Broken Pieces

This is the first 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?

This is my first try at writing a novel. 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?

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 1
Angela

Once upon a time, there was a young, innocent girl. She had the perfect life: a little sister, a little brother, a mom, a dad, and a dog. She went to pottery class every week with her sister. She had lots of friends. She was sheltered, homeschooled with her siblings by their mom. She had everything she could have hoped for in life. Then, everything exploded. Her dad was packing his bags, her mom was yelling, her sister was slamming a door, locking herself in her room, and her brother was breaking down in tears. It felt like she was in the middle of a hurricane. That girl was me. Angela Hickory.
Let me back up for a second. My life is chaotic and messy. It’s gotten somewhat better since that day, a bit more normal, but my dad is still wreaking havoc on our family. Yes, my mom saved their marriage, and he moved back in. But that’s a story for another time. I’m currently a junior in high school. I still have lots of friends, but I’m no longer homeschooled. The whole dad moving out thing kind of messed that up. But that’s okay, because I like public school; it’s a sort of escape from my crazy home life. I still go to dance, but I’ve advanced to teaching the elementary class, along with my personal classes, which means three classes a week. But I’m not complaining. I love my little potters, and again, it’s just another excuse to be out of the house.
On the outside, our family looks whole again; it looks perfect. I do a good job pretending to be fine at school and around my friends. It’s easier to pretend. But recently, my life has been starting to turn into a blur again, and my friends are getting worried. I’m constantly zoning out in class, losing myself in books more frequently, and going through the motions of life without actually living it. And there’s only one person who somehow always manages to break through my spell. Blake Dawson.
Me and Blake have an odd relationship. We’ve had an unspoken rivalry since I started public school in eighth grade. We had math class together. He was obnoxious and I didn’t know anybody, so obviously I was an easy target. Blake was the cool guy who played basketball and I was the nerdy new girl. He would tease me, I would defend myself and throw some punches of my own, and the cycle would repeat. But that was the year my dad moved out, and I was going through a lot of shit. In a way, I was grateful for Blake. He was a needed distraction. I don’t know if he realizes it or not, but he’s the reason why I’m still sane to this day.
At this point, everyone in our grade knows about the rivalry between us. Some people have even chosen sides. Team Angela and Team Blake. I think it’s very amusing and I love to rub it in Blake’s face when someone new joins my side. But Blake on the other hand, gets so pissed when someone passes him in the hall whispering about what team they’re on. He’ll come ranting to me about it and when he’s done I just get to laugh at him.
Today is starting out like every other day. Struggling to get out of bed. Check. Barely putting together a decent outfit. Check. Hair is a mess and has only been passed through with a brush five times. Check.
After I drop my brother, Ezra, off at the elementary school and my sister, Cecelia, off at the middle school, I drive myself over to the high school. As usual, I get the absolute worst parking spot, but today is a pretty nice day, the weather still not too frigged in Colorado, so I don’t mind the walk to the school doors.
I pop my earbuds in and turn on my music, hoping nobody walks up to me as I walk to my first class. I usually get there early and read for about ten minutes before the bell rings and the classroom is flooded with obnoxious high schoolers. My teacher knows my schedule by now, since it’s almost Thanksgiving break, and he knows that I like to be left alone with my thoughts and my book in the mornings.
I give Mr. Ledger a polite wave as I walk into his classroom and take my seat. I have English first hour, which, if you couldn’t tell already, is one of my favorite subjects. Mr. Ledger is a great teacher. He’s very expressive and passionate about what he teaches, which is why I respect him so much. He doesn’t teach literature because it was his strongest subject when he was in school, but because he loves teaching others about it and he loves having conversations about it. Mr. Ledger’s classroom is homey and comforting, it doesn’t feel like a classroom, it feels like a welcoming living room that I could spend all day in. He has a cute little bookshelf in the corner, windows covering one side of his room that he keeps open most of the time, and lots of lamps because the bog lights are “too mundane and bright”. This classroom gives me peace, it’s like a home away from home, and I’m glad that it’s where I start my day every morning.
Mr. Ledger waves back, but doesn’t bother to say anything because he knows I can’t hear him with my earbuds in. I settle into my seat and dive into my book. I’m reading an intense romantasy with dragons and an enemies to lovers trope. It’s one of my favorite kinds of books to read. On really bad days I imagine that I’m in one of my books, living a completely different life, with a perfect family by the end of the novel and a perfect love story. These are just dreams, and I know they’ll never be my reality, but one can hope, right?
After what feels like no time at all, the bell rings and students come filing in and surrounding my bubble. I close my book and take out my earbuds, readying myself for social interactions. Everyone stands for the pledge of allegiance and then Mr. Ledger launches into his lesson.
I’m only half listening, my mind everywhere but school. I stare off into space as I daydream about the characters in my book, my dad and what I long for him to be, and the six-foot-two, dark haired man in my next hour. Maybe Blake will give me some mercy today. Maybe he’ll be civil and we can get along for once. But all those hopes get crushed and blow away when the bell rings at the end of the hour and I walk into Physics. Blake is sitting in his seat, smirking at me, a clear sign that he’s going to be relentless today.
I take my assigned seat next to him, because of course we were told to sit together, and don’t give him a second glance as I set my bag on the floor and get out my textbook. “Morning Brownie,” Blake says with a smug look on his face. He’s now turned to face me fully, resting his head in his hand.
Blake has been calling me ‘Brownie’ since the day we met. It’s fitting because of my rich brown hair and hazel eyes, but annoying none the less. I used to hate it when he called me the nickname, but I don’t mind it as much now. In a weird way it’s sort of comforting. To have someone call you a pet name, even if it’s teasing. My dad has never had a pet name for me. But that’s besides the point.
I put my hands down on my desk and turn towards him, staring into his piercing green eyes. I give him my fakest smile and in the sweetest voice I can muster I say, “Good morning, Blake.”
This seems to humor him because his smug smile turns into a grin. “You’re not playing this morning, are you?” His tone is teasing, like he doesn’t care whether or not I’m playing, because he’s still going to.
“No, I’m not in the mood for your shinanagains today. So can we just get through this hour without bickering? Please.” I add the last word as an afterthought, not sure if Blake will care or not.
To my surprise, Blake’s face softens at my words. I guess he can tell that I’m actually not in the mood today and not just faking it like I sometimes am.
“Alright, I’ll let you off the hook. For now.” His smirk has turned mischievous now.
The bell rings and I let out a sigh of relief, not letting Blake hear me. Class starts and per usual it’s boring enough to make me fall asleep. After a while I notice that Blake hasn’t left his position facing me. “You’re staring. And it’s not cute,” I mutter.
When he still doesn’t look away, I turn my gaze towards his and see a strange emotion in his eyes. Excitement, maybe? Fondness? Both?
“Did you hear what the teacher just said?”
“No.” Now I’m confused.
“She said we’re doing a group project before break. And we’re partners.” He whispers this so smugly that it’s a bit frightening.
I groan, but not loud enough for the teacher to hear, and plop my head down on my desk. I hear Blake chuckling softly next to me, but I can’t bring myself to care. We have a week before Thanksgiving break and we’re getting assigned a group project? And I have to work with Blake?
A hand on my shoulder pulls me from my spiralling thoughts and I stiffen. I turn my head and see Blake looking at me with a surprisingly empathetic expression. He gives my shoulder a little squeeze before pulling away and offering an encouraging smile. I squint my eyes at him. He’s being awfully nice today and I’m not sure what his motive is.
“It won’t be that bad, Angela. It’s not like the world is ending,” Blake whispers, only loud enough for me to hear.
There it is. The teasing about my dramatics. I roll my eyes and turn my head back down.
The rest of the class goes by in a blur of my overthinking thoughts and the teacher’s gibberish about the group project and sound and materials. I hoped Blake was paying attention to her, because I sure wasn’t.
Eventually, I lift my head and rest it in my hand, looking towards the front of the class. I’m painfully aware of Blake’s burning gaze on the side of my head as I try to catch at least some of the words coming out of the teacher’s mouth. I manage to keep myself from glancing over at him, but just barely. The bell rings out and I turn to grab my bag off the floor and wait for the river of students to filter out of the room before standing.
I turn to leave and realize Blake has stayed behind with me. I raise a brow at him in question.
He stands slowly, sighing and pointing his gaze down. It’s odd, considering he’s usually the definition of confident. Blake raises his green eyes back up to my hazel ones, an emotion in them that I can’t quite place.
“Blake?” I ask. “What is it?” I don’t like the hint of anxiety that slips through my voice as I question him, but I can’t help it. His behavior is making me antsy and I don’t like it.
“Let’s walk and talk.” He suggests, gesturing for me to follow him out of the classroom.
Hesitantly, I follow behind him until we’re out of the room and surrounded by students in the hallway. I look up at him expectantly as we walk.
He finally lets out one final breath before turning to me.
“Do you think we could exchange numbers? For the group project, I mean. So that we can plan work times outside of school and stuff.”
That’s what he needed to ask me? God, he’s such an idiot. He didn’t need to work himself up about it that much.
“Sure. I’ll find you at lunch.”
He looks relieved at my answer, like he was expecting me to reject him or something. I might act like I hate him, but I’m not a total asshole. Okay, sometimes I’m an asshole. But he should know me better than that, to assume I wouldn’t want to communicate with him about this project outside of school. Maybe I would regret it later, but I didn’t have time to talk myself out of it right now.
Blake nods, a silent agreement of my plan, and then he turns and walks into his next class, leaving me alone in the hallway. I mean, not alone. I was still floating in a sea of other students. But sometimes the loneliest moments were when you were surrounded by people.