Broken Pieces Chap. 3

Hi! This is the third chapter of Broken Pieces, my first try at writing a novel! I’m going to skip the introduction this time, but if you’re new and interested in reading the description of this story, you can look at the first two chapters on my profile. I apologize in advance for the format, any spelling mistakes and any words that need to be italicized. Hope you all enjoy this chapter!

Chapter 3
Angela

I’m on FaceTime with Charlie when Blake responds to my text. His message pops up on the top of my screen, and my face contorts with distaste as I read his condescending yes ma’am. When I look back to Charlie, she’s giving me an odd look, like she’s trying to read me.
“What was that? Why did your face just do that?”
“Do what?” I asked her, fixing my face and acting like I have no idea what she’s talking about.
We had been FaceTiming since we got home from school, because we’re practically inseparable. And I really needed to vent to her today. And after I was done venting, I really needed to get my mind off of what I had been venting about. Charlie is a great listener, but she can also tell when I want to be done talking and does an excellent job at changing the subject for me.
Charlie is lying on her bed and I have my phone propped up against a water glass facing my easel as I work on my painting. We had been talking about everything and nothing at all. She’s one of my friends that I’ve had since before I started public school and ever since I had switched, our relationship had been stronger than ever. And she already knows about all the drama that happened with my dad and why I had to switch to public school. I don’t have to pretend around her.
She’s basically the only person I can talk to about my home life. The only person that I didn’t pull away from. Well, she was more like the only person who didn’t let me pull away. But I will be forever grateful that she stuck by my side.
Charlie gasps dramatically and shoots up in her bed like she was just informed that she got invited to the president’s birthday party. Her fiery curls spring out in every direction, making her look a little crazy as she says, “You made the face you always make when you see Blake from across the hall! Did he just text you?!?!”
I had already told her about the group project (what I needed to rant about) and she had been there at lunch when I’d told Lucas to give Blake my note. Unlike her, I am not overwhelmingly beautiful, so I do not have guys lining up for a turn with me. But that means whenever I get involved with a guy, Charlie gets overly excited for me.
I sigh, a defeated look crossing my face. “Yes, Blake texted me.”
Charlie squeals and practically spasms with happiness. I thought she was going to fall off of her bed for a second. “I knew it! Tell me what he said. What you said.”
Her striking blue eyes sparkle like this is the highlight of her month and I read her our three text long conversation.
She flops back down on her bed and puts a hand on her forehead dreamily. I laugh softly at her, turning back to my painting and adding some light green highlights to my trees.
“Brownie.” Charlie says daintily, like she’s fantasizing about it. “I’ve always loved that nickname for you. When are you going to let me call you that? It’s so cute!”
I huff. “It’s not cute. It’s infuriating. So you can’t call me that.” I pause, thinking for a moment before saying, “That’s like if I called you Carrots because your hair is orange.”
For some reason that just makes her more excited. “I would love that! Can you tell my next boyfriend to call me that? We would be like Gilbert Blythe and Anne Shirley.” She sighs and looks off into the distance, clutching her chest dramatically.
“Like who?” I shake my head. She was so weird sometimes.
Her head whips back to her phone to look at me through the screen and this time her gasp is in disbelief. “Please tell me you’re kidding.”
I lift a brow, confused, and gesture to my face. “Not kidding.”
“Oh my God! You’ve never seen Anne of Green Gables?” She sat up again, determination in her eyes. “That’s it. You’re coming over to my house during break and we’re having a movie marathon.”
I smile and shake my head lightly. “Okay, I’ll come over and we can have a whole day of movies.”
“Yesss!” She squeals again and does a little happy dance in her bed, shaking the phone.
That makes me really laugh. And then she started laughing and then we were both laughing uncontrollably together through our phones. This is one of the reasons why I love Charlie so much. She always seems to make me laugh when I need to the most. And I was glad we had moved off the topic of Blake so quickly. I didn’t feel like engaging with him right now, but I did need to text him back and give him my address (not that I want him to know where I live).
Charlie and I recover after a few minutes, both wiping our eyes and trying to catch our breaths. Then Charlie’s mom hollers something at her that I can’t understand and she calls back, “Be right there Mom!” She turns back to me with an apologetic smile. “I have to go now, but I’ll see you tomorrow okay?”
“Okay, see you tomorrow Charlie.”
“Love you girl!” She waves and smiles brightly at me. I thought she was going to hang up, but instead she leans a little closer to her phone camera and her face turns serious. “And don’t think I forgot about that nickname and your texts. You’re not off the hook yet.” Before I can respond, my phone lights up with the ‘Call ended’ screen.
I scoff. Of course she hadn’t forgotten, I shouldn’t have gotten my hopes up.
I pick up my phone and then drop my paintbrush into the water glass I was using to prop it up. I open Blake’s message and roll my eyes as I read it again. He’s so annoying. I send him my address and nothing else, not wanting to encourage this text thread.
Just as I’m setting my phone back onto my side table, Ezra comes barreling into my room, brown curls bouncing and eyes sparkling with mischief. My five year old brother has all of my features, and they make him absolutely adorable.
Ezra tumbles onto my bed and starts rolling around in it, getting very comfortable in the unmade comforter.
“Umm, whatcha doin’ Ez?” I ask, slowly turning in my chair to watch him squish his face into my pillow. “Hey, you better not slobber on that!” He has a tendency to spit on things even though he‘s way too old for it.
Ezra giggles and then hops back out of the bed, running over to me. He’s very hyper today. When he comes to stand in front of my chair he takes one of my fingers in his small hand and tugs a little. “Come look at my race cars!”
He gives my arm another excited tug, looking up at me with a pleading look in his eyes that I can never say no too.
“What did you make this time?” I ask him as I stand and let him lead me to his room. Now that I had gotten all my negative energy out to Charlie, it was time to put on the big sister hat and forget all about my problems.
Ezra has always loved cars, and he’s recently gotten into making race car tracks/obstacle courses in his room with random things. I always sit on his bed and attempt to listen intently as he explains the logistics of the track. This also includes watching several test runs and races. Although sometimes he catches me losing focus and has to pull me back into the present.
Today is no different as I watch him excitedly point to all of the major spots on his race track. He sends car after car through the course and I get comfortable on his bed, ready to be in here for a while. Cece must have heard Ezra’s delighted squeals after every successful race, because the music coming from her room grows louder.
“Your race cars are so cool, Ezy!” I tell him, using my practiced excited voice, letting him know I’m still interested as I walk over and shut his door. He doesn’t need to listen to whatever trashy music Cece is playing, or the language in it. He can keep his innocence for a bit longer.
“Here, you try!” He grabs a car from his bin and hands it to me, taking the opportunity of me already standing up.
“Alright.” I humor him, playing with his toys and testing out new tracks until dinner is ready.
Ezra has a lot of friends at school, but at home he doesn’t have anyone except for me. Mom will come in and check on him every once in a while, but most of the time she’s all consumed by money, Dad, cleaning the house, and who knows what else.
And Cece has become even more reserved the past couple of months since she started eighth grade. I think she’s spiralling just like I am, she’s just not afraid to show it. I make sure to check on her every night and ensure that she hasn’t done something dangerous in her room. I would never forgive myself if I let our parents’ negligence affect her physical health as well as her mental health. I know that at one point she was harming herself, and there was a terrifying day that she attempted to end her life, but I convinced her to talk with the school counselor and I think she’s doing better in that department. But, because of her mental state, she doesn’t really make time for Ezra and me.
So, at home, I’m Ezra’s only companion. And I have to stay strong for him. Present. Available. He loves Charlie too, so I always take him when I go to her house. Him and Stan, Charlie’s dad, are buddies too and they hang out when we’re doing “boring girl things”, like painting nails and gossiping. It’s really good for Ezra to have a fatherly figure in his life, since ours is absent, and Stan is more than happy to be that person for him.
Ez is also only a year away from being able to join the pottery class I teach for 1st-5th graders. And he can’t wait to start this summer. Not only does he think pottery is awesome, but I also hate leaving him at the house when I’m gone. I’ve tried to get Cece to be my assistant teacher or join the high school class that I’m in this summer, but she refused multiple times. She used to love it just as much as me, but instead of seeing it as an escape, an outlet, when Dad moved out, she only saw it as an added burden. I think it would be really good for her to get out of the house more though.
Mom hollers at us that dinner is ready, pulling me out of my worries, and I give Ezra a piggy back ride into the kitchen. This sends him into a fit of giggles and causes Mom to give us a stern talking to about ‘not rough-housing in the kitchen’. I nod obediently and quietly thank her for making dinner. Cece still hasn’t joined us and I help Ezra get a slice of cooked frozen pizza while Mom yells even louder that dinner is ready. I flinch slightly at her yell, but not big enough for her or Ezra to notice. I’ve learned to suppress them, and my trembles, because I don’t want to worry anyone.
Cece calls back that she’s not hungry over her music and Mom lets out a tired sigh, her shoulders sagging a little. I’ve noticed the bags under her eyes growing darker the past couple of weeks, her patience lessening. And her late night whispered arguments with Dad. I can tell she’s burnt out and emotionally exhausted. Part of me resents her for taking her annoyance and anger towards Dad out on us kids, and part of me feels sorry for her that she has to be married to such an emotionally abusive man. That’s why I don’t comment on her tired demeanor, don’t talk back, and try to help out with Ezra and the house chores whenever I’m not at school or the pottery studio.
I plaster a reassuring smile onto my face as Mom turns back towards the kitchen table, seeing that me and Ezra have started eating. “I’ll bring her some food when I’m done eating.” I tell her, trying to soften my words, even though hers have been so harsh tonight.
“Thank you.” Mom gives me a weak smile in return. She lets out a long breath as she sinks down into the seat across from Ezra.
We fall into a comfortable silence, well, comfortable for Ezra at least, as we finish eating. It’s anything but comfortable for me and Mom as we occasionally shift uncomfortably in our seats, not sure if we should talk or not. Eventually, she lets out a small apology about her attitude tonight, and I can tell it’s genuine. Even though Mom is strict sometimes, she really does love us.

After dinner, I help get Ezra ready for bed and tuck him in. Then I head back to the kitchen and stack two slices of the leftover pizza onto a plate and pop it into the microwave since it’s been out for a while. When it’s warm again, I head out of the kitchen and down the hall to Cece’s room. She may not act like it, but she does care about us, and she turned off her music because she knows Ezra went to bed. Probably only switched to headphones though. She always has to drown out the background noise.
I knock softly on her door, which has a ‘Caution: Hormonal Teen’ sign permanently on it, even though I know she can’t hear me. Slowly, I creep her door open and peek my head in to make sure she’s awake. I find her in bed, under her black covers, red light from the LED’s around her ceiling illuminating her face. As I suspected, Cece has her headphones on and she has her computer open on her lap. Probably working on one of the collages she loves to make. She might have given up pottery, but at least she came up with some other hobby to keep her entertained.
She looks up from her screen when she notices the warm light spilling from the doorway, but looks back down when she sees me leaning in it. I sigh and step into her room, closing the door behind me. As I walk over to her bed I notice her room has changed a bit since last night. It’s cleaner, and her furniture has been rearranged. I guess she got bored.
Her guitar and amp are now on the opposite side of the room, in the corner by her closet. Her vanity is pressed against the wall by the door and her makeup is organized for the first time in a while. And she somehow moved her bed out of the middle of the room and into the corner, having pushed the nightstand with it.
I sit on the bed next to her and set the pizza on said nightstand that surprisingly isn’t covered in trash. Maybe she’s not spiralling like I thought. Maybe she’s just in an antisocial phase. I lean over and tap the side of her headphone so she’ll take it off. I don’t really care if it annoys her, I want her to use her voice at least once today, because I have a sneaking suspicion that she didn’t use it that much at school today.
Cece sighs exasperatedly and pulls her headphones to rest around her neck as she looks at me with eyes that say ‘let’s just get this over with’.
“There you are.” I smile softly at her, genuinely happy to see her face. Alive. Still young. Too young to have those worry creases between her brows and pain in her soft blue eyes. “I brought you pizza because I know you actually are hungry, and somebody needs to make sure you aren’t starving in here.” There’s a hint of teasing in my tone, but we both know I’m being completely serious.
“Thanks.” Cece mutters, and begins to put her headphones back on, but I stop her.
“Not so fast. How are you today?” I don’t want her to suffer in silence like I have to. It’s not healthy to keep her feelings and thoughts to herself, that’s when they start to build up and make her do scary things. “I like what you did with your room by the way.”
She’s unfazed by my complement, clearly wanting me to leave. “My day was fine.” She grumbles and her voice is a bit scratchy, unused.
“The truth, Cece.” From the way she’s acting I can tell it wasn’t fine. Most days she’ll at least come out of her room to grab a plate of food for dinner, even if she eats it in here.
“How many times do I have to tell you? I don’t want you to call me that, I’m not a little kid anymore.” Her tone is filled with irritation, because she’s asked quite a few times. “It’s just Cecelia.”
But at this point, calling her Cece is a habit, and I can’t just erase that nickname from my brain. I can tell she’s dodging my request though, and I’m not letting her off the hook that quickly.
“Cecelia, you don’t have to tell me what’s going on in your head if you don’t want to. But did you at least talk to the school counselor today?” I ask, concern evident in my voice and I hope she knows that I’m not going to leave until she reassures me that she’s gotten her negative thoughts out.
Cece finally relents and mumbles out, “No, I didn’t feel like talking about it. I wrote in my journal though.” She sighs again, as if I’m her biggest burden. “Happy?”
“Very.” I’m glad she’s trusting me enough to at least tell me that she has an outlet for her intrusive thoughts. After I called the police when she almost ended her life, it took a long time for her to open up to me again. This is progress. “Don’t stay up too late, okay? I love you.”
“I won’t.” Her words are barely audible as she dismisses me by putting her headphones back over her ears.
I pat Cece’s leg softly and then close the door behind me as I leave her room. From the hall, there’s a clear shot of the front door. The house has darkened since Ezra went to bed, nobody wants to wake him up. But the shadows that the remaining lights cast across the house are ominous as the front door slowly creaks open. My breath catches in my throat and my eyes widen in shock as my dad walks into the entryway, he’s home way earlier than he usually is. That can either be a good sign, or a really bad one.
He makes his way further into the house with confident strides, acting like he owns the place. Legally he does, but Mom is the one who maintains it, and he has no right to feel as comfortable here as he does. As he sets his briefcase down, slides his shoes off, and loosens his tie by the front door, I stand paralyzed in the hallway. It’s been days since I’ve seen him. His salt and pepper stubble has grown out, and similar to Mom, the bags under his eyes have deepened.
It’s been three years since he ripped this family apart. There’s no real reason that I should still be this affected by his presence. Other than the fact that I have to listen to him whisper fight with Mom every night as I fall asleep. But, despite the time I’ve had to process and come to terms with what he did to this family, I still haven’t forgiven him.
Once a cheater, always a cheater.