Fractured ( Fractured #1) Read online

  Fractured

  By: Holleigh James

  Fractured

  Copyright © 2013 by Holleigh James. All rights reserved.

  First Print Edition: December 2013

  Limitless Publishing, LLC

  Kailua, HI 96734

  www.limitlesspublishing.com

  Formatting: Limitless Publishing

  ISBN-13: 978-1494238285

  ISBN-10: 1494238284

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.

  Dedication

  I’d like to dedicate this story to the muse who sits on my shoulder and whispers slowly enough that I can write what she shares.

  Table of Contents:

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter One

  Although I had seventeen years to figure out what I wanted, it wasn’t until my mother sent me to the supermarket that I found it.

  She’d start drinking the minute she woke up in the morning, if she woke up, and just continued throughout the day. Most of the time I’d drop my books at the front door and help her up the stairs to her bedroom. That way my little brother, Dillon, wouldn’t see her in a drunken stupor when he came home from school a half hour after I did.

  It had only been one hour and ten minutes into my summer vacation, and already, I wished it were over. I would have loved to have had a summer job, but my dad’s double standards ruled. He’d joke and say, “Someone needs to take care of us, Mandy.” He never seemed to put the same restrictions on my twin, Bryan, who had two jobs: flipping burgers at Burger Hut and working on cars at my dad’s garage.

  With no friends to hang out with and no job, because of my father’s double standards, the only excitement I could look forward to would be spending time at my favorite nature spot to draw.

  As I walked through the living room, I picked up Bryan’s dirty clothes. He arrived home before I did because he has a car; I had to walk everywhere. Another of Dad’s double standards. Once I put them in the washer, I tackled the dishes that were piled in the sink. The window gave a nice view of the yard, which was green and spotted with flowered bushes. I thought back to the conversation I had with Ms. Olsen, my art teacher.

  “Any special plans for the summer break, Mandy?” Ms. Olsen asked.

  I thought about it and hoped there would be, but I already knew that my vacation would consist of reading trashy romance novels, sketching hundreds of trees and squirrels, and finding new hiding places for my mother’s half-emptied bottles. “No. Not really.”

  “Oh, I thought you might be one of the girls who tried out for the lifeguard positions at the beach.” With a frown, I shook my head. “Well, enjoy the two months off,” she said, before walking out the door.

  I smiled. “You have a nice summer, too, Ms. Olsen.” But she was already gone.

  Juggling the remains of my things in my arms, I walked down the hall, ending my junior year. That’s when the Beauty Apocalypse walked past me; the perfect and popular Jennifer Sutton, flanked by her three shadows: Tanya, Liz, and Courtney. Next to their sparkly white teeth and flowing manes of fabulous hair, my simple tee shirts and strawberry-blonde ponytail looked dull and frumpy. And where Jennifer and her friends were very confident and outgoing, I was quiet and withdrawn. They commanded attention with their designer clothes and matching accessories; I disappeared into the architecture. It helped that they had perfect figures and flirtatious chuckles that captivated boys. Unlike shy, introverted me, who only spoke when spoken to, and barely looked anyone in the eye as I hid under my oversized wardrobe. I really needed to be more assertive.

  “I’m so excited that today is the last day of school, aren’t you, Tanya?” Jennifer asked, as she flipped her blonde curls behind her shoulder.

  “Yeah. I can’t wait to lay on the beach as tons of hot guys come check us out in our lifeguard uniforms,” Tanya’s voice lilted.

  Jennifer stopped at her locker and turned toward her disciples. “Next year, we’ll be seniors.” A smile filled her face. The other three giggled. Jennifer collected her things and the four traipsed out through the front doors.

  How could I ever amount to anything with those four living in the same town as me?

  A small bird chirped in the tree just outside of the window. It reminded me that I had to finish the dishes. When all of the cups and silverware were stacked on the dryer, I walked back into the living room. My mother was still sprawled out on the couch. Passed out, empty wine glass in her hand. How typical. A giant arrow punctured my balloon of hope.

  I heard the bus matron say goodbye to Dillon. He was a mini version of Bryan, with the same curly brown hair and toast-colored eyes. He dropped his backpack just under the coat hooks and headed for the kitchen. He positioned himself at the table and waited for me to present his Spider-Man plate with four chocolate chip cookies and milk in his favorite matching cup. We did this every day. Dillon was autistic and didn’t like to break routine.

  From the kitchen, I looked at my mother. It bothered me to see her so dysfunctional. Dillon didn’t seem to care. Despite the many approaches I used to try to get her to stop drinking—suggestions to attend Alcoholics Anonymous and rehabilitation therapy were ignored daily—I kept trying. I spilled the contents of every bottle I found down the drain, but she always had another. It was a losing battle. It didn’t help that she was nasty most of the time. “Leave me alone. I’m a grown-up, Mandy. You just worry about your silly little life.”

  My life? I didn’t have a life. No friends. No job. No social interactions. No boyfriend. The only thing I could do was take care of the rest of the family as best as I could. Instead of something fun and exciting, I knew that my summer was going to be just like all of my past summers.

  I stared at my mother. Talking to her would be a waste of time. I knew that losing my sister Cassandra shortly after birth affected her. I was sure it was devastating, but why’d she have to drown herself in alcohol? And when was she going to get that I had nothing to do with it? Or did I? Did she blame Bryan and me for Cassandra’s death? I stomped up the stairs to my room and flung my books onto my baby blue comforter. I thought about new ways to help my mother. Why did depression and drinking have to rule her life? And ruin mine?

  My mother wasn’t quiet
as she staggered up the stairs. I guess she wasn’t completely out of it after all. In her slightly slurred speech, she said, “Mandy, you have to go to the store.”

  “For what?” I asked.

  Her blank stare told me that she was trying hard to remember what she needed. It took a few moments. “Rolls!” she said, as if she had just discovered gold. “We need rolls.” She moved her tongue across her upper teeth, as if to scrape off something sticky.

  “I thought we had some. I’ll call Bryan and ask him to pick some up on his way home from work.” Dad had no problem with him coming and going as he pleased, yet he needed to know where I was all the time. It would take him only a few minutes to get the rolls, where I’d have to walk. It would take at least a half hour to get to the supermarket and back.

  “Your brother’s not…” her voice trailed off. She couldn’t remember. “He’s not home.” She leaned against my doorframe.

  “I know, Mom. He’s at the garage, but maybe he could stop by the store after he gets off work.”

  “He’s with your father.” My father’s automotive shop wasn’t far from the house. Bryan usually worked there on Wednesdays and Fridays after school, when he didn’t have hours at Burger Hut, or when he wasn’t out with the latest hottie, or his best friend, Jimmy.

  “Mom, I know he isn’t home. I’ll call and tell him to… never mind.” I shook my head. I knew I wasn’t going to get through to her. Besides, maybe a little time away from the house would be good for me. “Fine, I’ll go.”

  My mother left my room. I heard her clomp down the stairs and into the kitchen. The clinking sound told me that she was refilling her glass.

  I grabbed the phone and dialed Dad’s shop.

  “Stewart’s Garage, Bryan speaking.”

  “Hey, Bry, it’s Mandy. I’m going to the store to get the rolls for our stupid year-end barbecue. Want anything in particular?”

  “Maybe just potato salad.”

  “Does Dad want anything?”

  “Um, dunno. He’s not here.”

  “Not there? Where is he?”

  “Dunno. Al said he’s been gone since one. Joe called in sick and Al is working on two cars at once. I can’t leave until he’s done.”

  “Okay. Never mind. You’ll be home for dinner, right? Mom is insisting on the barbecue.”

  “Yeah. Al should be finished by six. I’m gonna make the bank deposit after I close up the office.”

  “Okay. See ya at seven.”

  “Later.” He hung up.

  After transferring my wallet, brush, aloe vera lipstick, and some mints from my backpack to my imitation designer purse, I walked down the stairs.

  Mom was slouched in the recliner and had the television on the Weather Channel. She cradled a drinking glass in her hand. Although a dark color, there was no doubt in my mind it was filled with some sort of alcoholic beverage. Her face was washed in that somber look she wore when she’d had a few too many. Any reason would cause her to down another gulp, including a cloud briefly passing over the sun, or having chipped nail polish, or some other trivial thing. The excuses were usually a minute apart. Her tear-filled, hazel eyes were fixed on the television weatherman, who promised sun for the next few days. I couldn’t be sure if she was upset about the forecast, some fractured memory, or that her beverage would soon be gone.

  With a tilt of her glass, the last drop rolled down the inside and into her mouth. When she was sure she couldn’t drain it any further, she looked at me, but said nothing. There was a twenty-dollar bill in her hand, the one that wasn’t protecting the glass. “Get some coleslaw,” she said. “What’s an end-of-the-school-year barbecue without potato coleslaw? Oh, and take Dillon with you.” She stared down at the empty glass.

  I bent my body to look into the kitchen. “He’s coloring. You know how upset he gets when you take him away from something without advanced warning.” Any sudden change would result in a huge Dillon meltdown.

  His tongue was sandwiched between his tight lips, which told me he was working hard to stay within the lines. It was probably best that I not disturb him. It would take more time to get him to calm down from the break in his rhythm than it would to just go to the store and come back without him. I knew he’d be in the same place when I came back.

  Mom didn’t answer; she was mesmerized by whatever the weatherman was forecasting. I grabbed the money from her hand and gave myself a glance in the mirror across from the coat closet. With a quick rake of my fingers, I tried to fluff my unruly reddish-golden ponytail into some kind of order before I walked out the front door and down the seven blocks to the supermarket.

  The sun was warm. It was a nice change after all the weeks of unusual June rain. During my brief walk to the supermarket, I reviewed my previous summers and compared them to what was in store for me this year. Is it sad that I wished it was September already?

  Trying to focus on my newest quest, I grabbed a shopper’s basket. In the bread aisle, I picked up two packages of rolls. Then I headed for the deli counter and was ready to order the cold salads… and that’s when it happened.

  My senses went numb and my brain melted the moment I laid eyes on him. It was as if he was created by one of the Renaissance Masters. His angular chin was perfectly shaped, and his large, crystal blue eyes were a sharp contrast to his dark, wavy hair. Without a doubt, he was the most beautiful human being I had ever seen in my entire seventeen years of life.

  “What can I get you?” he asked. His teeth were two perfect rows of glistening white. There was one dimple to the right of his kissable, pink lips. Suddenly, I felt warm. My skin could have melted iron and my heart beat faster than a jackhammer.

  From what I could see from my side of the deli counter, he made the ugly green shirt with the supermarket logo look good. The fabric of the sleeves pulled, hinting at the contours of his hidden muscles. I had to make an effort to control my breathing.

  “Do you know what you want?” he asked. The small dimple on the right side of his amazing smile had me mesmerized.

  I do now, I thought. Straightening my posture, I looked up and smiled back. “Yes, I’d like…” Oh no! What was I supposed to get? My mind went blank. His deep blue eyes pierced into me. “I’ll have…” Think, Mandy. “…that.” And I pointed to some lumpy, tan mush in the deli case.

  With a raised eyebrow, he nodded. “Um, sure. How much?”

  “Uh, a half-a-pound, please.” A sudden blast of heat rushed to my face and the jackhammer pounded faster.

  Carefully, he spooned in a healthy amount into the small container and weighed it. “Is there anything else?”

  “Yes. I’d like…” Think. Think. Oh, right! “Potato salad,” I blurted out.

  “A half-a-pound?” he asked.

  I nodded. “And… and coleslaw.” What else could I ask for? Think, Mandy. My mind could only focus on him. I swallowed hard. I’d buy the whole store as long as he was the one serving me.

  “Is that it?”

  I couldn’t think of anything else. “Yes. Thank you.”

  “Here you go.” He reached over the counter and his hand brushed mine as he passed me the stacked salads, including the container with the odd tan mush. My body felt as if it were humming with electricity. “Have a nice day. Come back again soon.”

  I knew that was my cue to leave, but I wasn’t sure if my rubbery legs would let me walk away. The coolness of his eyes fixed on me, and I stared at his flawless lips.

  His left eyebrow dipped on his forehead. “You okay?”

  “Um, yeah. Fine. Thanks.” I took a last look at his one-dimpled smile before I forced myself to turn around and walk away.

  I didn’t remember walking home. Maybe I floated. My thoughts were consumed with the hot “deli-god”. And that’s when I knew what I wanted.

  Chapter Two

  “Hey, Mandy,” Dad greeted from the barbeque. I was surprised to see him. Where was he before when I called the shop?

  The aroma of burgers and hot dog
s wafted through the air.

  “Where’ve you been?” Mom asked from behind her glass.

  I held up the package and said, “You had me go to the store for rolls, remember?”

  “Oh, right,” she said, but I knew she didn’t have a clue. Then she took a sip from her newly filled glass and drifted off on one of her alcoholic clouds. Bryan seized the bag with the hamburger rolls and ripped it open for a couple of buns. I placed the salads on the table.

  “What’s that brown stuff?” He grabbed a couple of burgers as soon as Dad walked over to the table with the tray. Half of the first was gone with one bite.

  I shrugged and tried to hide my mistake. “It’s hummus. It looked interesting.”

  With every forkful of potato salad, I thought of the hot guy from the deli counter.

  “You okay, Mandy?” Dad asked, as he passed the plate with the burgers in my direction. Grease outlined his short fingernails, even though I knew he probably scrubbed them when he came home.

  “Yeah, Dad.”

  “Seems like you’re somewhere else. Somethin’ on your mind?”

  I took a burger and passed the tray to Bryan, who was on his third. I couldn’t tell him about the gorgeous guy at the supermarket. Another of my dad’s double standards; it was okay for Bryan to be with as many girls as possible, but if a guy even looked in my direction, I’d get the third degree about him: who he is, where I know him from, what his social security number is... “You know, it’s summer break. I’m making a mental list of all the books I want to read.”

  “Puh-leeze,” Bryan said.

  “What? It’s a great time to read what I want instead of what’s required,” I defended.

  “Yeah, right.” He rolled his eyes. “That extra two minutes head-start into the world really gave you an advantage, Sis.” He took another bite of his burger. “Maybe if Cassandra would have lived past a week, she’d be smarter than both of us because she came out last and had the longest to stew inside Mom’s belly.” We were triplets. Bryan was the second born. I was the oldest by two minutes and three seconds. Cassandra was born last, but didn’t live past the first week after birth. Aside from both Bryan and me having brown eyes, we didn’t look anything alike. He had brown wavy hair, like Mom, and I was a strawberry-blonde, like Dad. And I had a sprinkle of freckles across my nose. Oh, and Bryan had a car, and two jobs, and got to do whatever he wanted. And, I didn’t—thanks to Dad’s stone-age views of males and females. I often wondered what Cassandra would have looked like; maybe she’d have been a mix between Bryan and me. Maybe Dad would have let her do what she wanted too.