Broken Pieces Chap. 2

This is the second chapter of Broken Pieces. A dual P.O.V. romance novel. Angela Hickory struggles to navigate her family relationships while battling anxiety. She tends to hide her emotions behind a mask, but soon someone begins to peel that mask back.

Blake Dawson, a stunning basketball star, deals with his own trauma and difficult family dynamic. Angela is his chosen target to take his teasing out on.

But when new emotions start to blossom, how will Angela and Blake overcome them?

Hello! This is my first try at writing a novel and these chapters are just rough drafts. I welcome all criticism and thoughts on my writing style, possible grammar mistakes, and the story itself.

When did you start skimming over parts while reading?

Are you invested enough to read another chapter?

What should I add or take away?

How were my new character introductions?

I also welcome any ideas for possible scenes later in the book or ways to further develop these characters. Thank you, and enjoy reading!

Chapter 2
Blake

I’m just finishing up my lunch and Angela still hasn’t come over yet. A quiet voice in my head keeps telling me that she’s not going to show. She doesn’t really want to give me her phone number and I overstepped.
“What’s your deal man?” Elliot, my best friend, asks me from across the lunch table. “You’ve been zoning out all lunch. Practically ignoring these guys’ idiotic behavior. That’s not like you. Is everything okay?”
Asher and Jack nod along with El. Was I that obvious? I’ve known these guys since preschool and we always looked out for each other. Elliot was the most reasonable of the group, always raining on our parade and preventing us from doing stupid shit. Also the most handsome, with his good looking brown hair, bright blue eyes, and nice, toned body.
Jack was definitely the worst influence on us all. He comes from a rough background; his dad is in jail and his mom works 24/7. He’s not too hard on the eyes himself; very muscular, messy dark brown hair and unique coppery-gold eyes.
Asher and I are sort of in the middle. Always willing to go along with Jack’s plans and get into a little trouble. But we also don’t throw a fit (like someone does) when El shuts us down.
Asher’s blonde with grey eyes that changed colors depending on what he was wearing. He’s on the basketball team with me, sharing my height of around six-foot-two.
“Yah, sorry guys.” I shake my head to clear my thoughts. “I guess I’m just out of it today. But everything is fine.”
All three of them send me skeptical glances, but I just shrug them off. Sometimes it feels like they care a little too much. But who can blame them, with everything I’ve been through in the past. And my sometimes unpredictable waves of grief that can send me into depressive episodes.
Just as we’re about to clear our table and get ready to head to our next classes, Lucas walks over to me. He’s one of those guys who could be gay and could be straight. You can never really tell. He hangs out with guys and girls. He can really turn up his feminism and get super peppy at times, and then at others he was chill and sort of just blended in. His perfect blond hair and blue eyes could be infuriating at times though. Especially when he was hanging out with Angela.
“Hey Lucas. What’s up?” I stride towards him, meeting him half way over. Asher and Jack send me backwards glances as they head to the trashcan without me. I give them a nod, telling them to go ahead, before turning my attention back to Lucas.
“Angela wanted me to give this to you.” He hands me a small slip of paper. Odd. “And she told me to tell you that if you give this to anyone else,” he paused, hesitating for a moment. “Let’s just say you would regret it.”
I press my lips together, accepting the piece of paper. “Got it. Thanks man.”
He nods. “Anytime.” And then just like that, he was gone again.
Elliot, Asher, and Jack come up behind me with curious looks on their faces. “What was that about?” Asher questions, staring at the paper in my hand as I turn around to face them.
“Lucas was just delivering this to me. It’s nothing important.” I unfold it, attempting to tilt it away from the guys, and my heart skips a beat when I see a phone number inside. And then it starts in my chest for a completely different reason.
Below the phone number, Angela wrote:

“In case Lucas didn’t send the message, if you give this to anyone else, I will end you. Be scared, Blake. Be very scared.
– A. H.”

The corner of my lip turns upward as I finish reading and tuck the note in my pocket. I look back up and find three smirking faces staring at me. I guess my attempt at keeping that private failed miserably. The small grin that had taken over my face falls flat.
“What?” I say defensively. “Why are you all looking at me like that?”
“Did someone finally shoot their shot with a certain girl whose initials are A. H.? A.K.A. Angela Hickory?” Jack wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.
“Took you long enough!” Elliot shakes his head and slaps my shoulder playfully while Asher just stands there with the same stupid grin on his face.
I am completely mortified. I am never going to hear the end of this. Why did I have to open that in front of them? I run a hand down my face, groaning.
“I didn’t ‘shoot my shot’. We have to do the group project in Physics together.” I defend myself, but I know they aren’t going to buy it. Stupidly, I had told them about how cute I think Angela is and how I can never seem to get her out of my head a few weeks ago. Clearly that was a mistake.
“You keep telling yourself that.” Asher says, finally joining in on the Mortify Blake Party.
I’m saved by the bell as it rings and the guys disperse to their next classes. For the first time I actually feel relieved to go back to class. It will be a good distraction from the burning piece of paper in my back pocket. And the girl who sent it to me.
I shake my head and grip the straps of my backpack a little harder than necessary as I turn to leave the cafeteria. My eyes immediately catch onto a short brunette, laughing with her friends at the other end of the room, making their way out.
As if she felt my gaze on her, Angela turns her head and her hazel eyes meet mine. I send her a soft smile, but I guess she doesn’t appreciate it because she just narrows her eyes and does a gesture with her hand like she’s watching me. Then she turns back to her friends, back to her smiley self like she didn’t just threaten me with her eyes. Well, now I know how she feels about having me as her project partner.

The bell rings, dismissing all of the students for the day. I take my time cleaning my desk and putting my things back in my bag, not in the mood to get caught up in the hallway traffic. I grab my phone from my backpack before I hoist it over my shoulder and reach into my back pocket to grab Angela’s note. I smile to myself as I reread her words, taking in her clumsy handwriting and her terrifying, yet endearing threat.
I type her number into my phone and save her contact as Brownie🍫 as I walk out of class and head toward the locker room. I have basketball practice after school and I can’t risk being distracted by the fact that I can text Angela whenever I want now, but I can’t stop myself from shooting her a short message.

Unknown Number: Hey, Brownie. It’s Blake. Thank you so much for your kind message.

I stuff my phone into my pocket and imagine all of Angela’s snarky comebacks she probably has prepared. I don’t know why I find it so fun to mess with her. Maybe it’s just because I need an outlet for my blunt remarks. But, then again, that’s what Asher and Jack are for. Maybe it’s the fact that every other time I see Angela, she’s smiling. When she’s with her friends, she’s smiling. Talking to a teacher? Smiling. Even when she’s reading her books, there’s a soft, barely there smile on her face. I’m the only person who gets to see her other side. Her dark, sharp, lethal side. And I don’t know why I like being the person who brings out that side of her. But part of me thinks it’s because she needs an outlet for her dark side just as much as I do. And I feel honored to be that outlet for her.
I’m brought back to my surroundings as I step into the locker room and my ears are flooded with the sounds of my teammates. I head to my locker and drop my backpack onto the bench across from it. The voices around me fade into the background as I drop my phone into my bag and zip it back up.
Being on a basketball team with a bunch of rowdy, high school boys has its pros and cons. One of the pros? Being able to drown out everything happening around me and focus solely on the task in front of me. This has come in handy on multiple occasions, both during games when I can drown out the crowd and other times outside of school.
Opening my locker and pulling out my jersey, I prepare myself for the upcoming practice. Mentally and physically. I put my jersey on over my t-shirt and change into a pair of athletic shorts, taking some deep breaths and composing my thoughts. After doing some simple arm and leg warmups, I head out to the gym with the rest of my teammates to get some laps in before we start our drills.
All of my thoughts other than the practice flee from my mind as the rush and adrenaline take over. This is why I love basketball. I can make everything else in the world disappear, until all that’s left is me, my team, and the ball. As I race across the court, passing and shooting the ball, all my worries, my doubts, and my distractions get pushed to the back of my brain for the hour. And at one point in my life, this hour of practice was my savior. My only escape.
I jog off the court after another successful practice, grabbing my water bottle and taking a big gulp. Sweat drips from my forehead, down my neck, as I follow the team out of the gym, but Coach Vance comes up behind me. He claps a hand on my shoulder, beginning to walk beside me.
“You had a good practice today, Blake. Some really nice plays.” His tone is proud, but there’s also a sense of hesitation in it.
“Thanks.” I send him a sideways glance as we enter the hallway and he stops to face me outside of the locker room. “Why do I sense a ‘but’ coming?”
“No ‘but’. Just making sure you’ll keep up this energy and determination during the game after break.” Coach has been picking on me more than usual during practices recently, but I know it’s for my sake. I’m beginning to build a reputation for my skills, and I need to live up to it during every game. He’s just trying to make sure I’m prepared. “There will be a recruiter from Colorado College there. I want to give you the best shot at getting a scholarship. They’re specifically looking at you, and a few other guys on the team, but you’re going to be the star of the show. Can you handle that?”
I nod assuringly. “My determination will definitely not be lost. I’ll be giving my best, I can guarantee you that. And I’ll make sure to be extra prepared. Play my best.”
Coach gives me a firm nod of understanding and another shoulder pat. “Good man. Practice over break, will you?”
“Always.” Another nod and then Coach Vance heads back to the gym and I blow out a long breath as I step into the locker room.
I know Coach only wants what’s best for me; wants me to live up to my greatest potential. And I want that too, more than anything. I want to get a scholarship, continue basketball all the way through college, and then maybe even go professional if I keep succeeding at this rate. Getting into Colorado College would be the best way to achieve that goal. But that’s a lot of pressure, and it’s starting to weigh down on me. I love basketball more than anything, but I don’t want to disappoint anyone if my skills don’t match my passion anymore. I hope that doesn’t happen anytime soon.
Asher meets me by my locker as I take my jersey off. “What did the coach want?” He leans against the empty locker next to mine as I stuff my jersey in, not bothering to fold it.
“Nothing important. Just making sure I would keep practicing over break, and be prepared for the next game.” I shrug, shutting my locker and then turning to ruffle through my bag, avoiding eye contact so Asher won’t be able to tell exactly how much pressure I’m feeling to be perfect.
“Oh, alright. Well, you played well today. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Asher smacks the back of my head playfully as he leaves.
“See ya, Ash.” I backhand his bicep as he passes me to grab his bag on the other side of the locker room. He shoots me a look over his shoulder that says, ‘are you really okay?’, and I nod, convincing him that I was alright as much as I was convincing myself.
Snatching my phone out of my bag before slinging it over my shoulder, I make my way out to the parking lot. As I walk, I’m met with a happy surprise when I glance down at my phone. A text from Angela. My lips begin to tug up at the corners involuntarily as I look at the notification from Brownie🍫, picturing her reaction to my message.
A gust of pre-winter breeze rushes past me as I open my car and slide into the driver’s seat. Quickly shutting the door, I turn the car on and crank the heat up. This chill is making me regret staying in my shorts.

(P.S. there are certain words in this chapter that are meant to be italicized, but I was unable to copy and paste them like that.)
When I open my message app, I read Angela’s oddly curt message.

Brownie🍫: You, me, my house, tomorrow, after your basketball practice. And bring your part of the science project supplies. Got it?

Blake: Yes ma’am.

God, she was bossy today. I toss my phone back into my bag, which I had thrown into the passenger seat, and start driving home. My heart starts racing on its own accord and I turn the radio on in an attempt to distract myself. My grip on the steering wheel is still slightly too tight, but my heart rate slows slightly.
I’ve always been an anxious driver, and it’s a miracle that I had worked through enough of my trauma in therapy to be able to even get into the car. Right after the accident, when I was twelve, I wouldn’t even let my dad drive me anywhere. Insisting on walking to school, the park, and the store when I wanted to go with. Eventually, when I started high school, I had to start forcing myself to face my fears and just get in. It was a rocky start, but eventually I got to the point where I was now. Still anxious, but not frozen in terror anymore.
My eyes scan the road, all thoughts of Angela and basketball leaving my mind as I turn out of the school parking lot. The drive home was only about five to ten minutes depending on the traffic and today I could tell it would be a longer drive.
My phone buzzes as I come to a stop at a red light, probably Angela, but I don’t dare turn to look. I quickly come to the next traffic light, and this one is green, so I don’t hesitate to go straight through. The sooner I got home the better. But right as I drive up to the intersection, a car drives into the left turn lane across from me and it seems like they don’t even look at the light before they start turning way too fast. My eyes practically bulge out of my head as I slam on my brakes, holding my breath and violently jerking forward in my seat.