Murdered at 17 Page 2

  Brooke took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down, trying to remember what her therapist told her. Then she ran after Maddie again.

  “Do you really think I’d want anything to do with that loser? I’ve been telling you for months to dump him!” The more Maddie ignored her, the more pissed off she became.

  Brooke caught up to Maddie in the bar area. “Maddie! I’m talking to you!” She grabbed for Maddie’s arm again, and this time, Maddie spun around to face her.

  “Don’t touch me,” Maddie warned, teeth clenched. “You obviously were telling me to cut him loose so you could have him for yourself!” Brooke was stunned by the look of betrayal on Maddie’s face. She’d never seen that before.

  “That’s not true!”

  “How could you? You’re supposed to be my best friend!”

  I am your best friend, Brooke wanted to say but those weren’t the words that came out. The voice in her head telling her to say something rational and meaningful was being drowned out by the rage that she was feeling. The rage that had been eating away at her ever since the accident. The rage that was now telling her that Maddie’s accusations were completely unwarranted. That Maddie couldn’t get away with saying such awful things about her.

  “Stop accusing me of something I didn’t do!” Brooke was yelling now, and even though she wanted to stop herself, she couldn’t.

  Maddie shook her head and started toward the exit again. The sudden anger and humiliation Brooke felt from being ignored shot through her like a rocket. Before she realized what she was doing, she’d shoved Maddie hard from behind.

  “Don’t you walk away from me, you stupid bitch! I’m talking to you!” Brooke screamed.

  Maddie pitched forward, grabbing on to a table where two men in jeans and Eagles sweatshirts were sitting. One of them instinctively reached up to steady her. Embarrassed, Maddie whipped around with fire in her eyes. “You’re a psycho!”

  Brooke stared at her friend, teeth clenched. I’m not a psycho! How dare you say that! You know I have a rage disorder! she thought, wanting to say the words but they simply wouldn’t come out. Instead, consumed by anger and desperate to point out that Maddie was wrong about everything, Brooke screamed, “You’re the psycho! You’re the one who jumps to conclusions that aren’t even true! Who said you could look at my phone anyway?!”

  “You know I was in love with him!”

  “He doesn’t love you, you dumb bitch!” Brooke yelled into Maddie’s face. “That’s why he’s texting me!”

  “Whoa, girls . . .” The man who had steadied Maddie stood up and stepped between them.

  “Take a pill, Brooke!” Maddie shouted and raced out of the bar.

  Brooke could feel her hands tighten into fists, her nails digging into her palms. I’m going to hit her! she thought. I’m going to knock her ass down! Before she could follow her out, Brooke felt someone grab and pull her backward.

  Brooke writhed against his thick arms but Riley wouldn’t let go.

  “Brooke, stop it!” he ordered.

  “She’s accusing me of something I didn’t even do!” Brooke struggled harder, but he was too strong for her to break free. This idea that Maddie—who knew her better than anyone—would believe that Brooke would steal her ex, cut through Brooke deeply. She’d lost so much after the accident—her ability to control her emotions and actions, but one thing she’d always held on to was her integrity. She would never backstab a friend. Ever.

  “Let it go.” His voice was firm. “Just relax.”

  “Crazy bitch,” she heard someone at another table say. She watched the guy who’d almost intervened turn to see who said it.

  “What’s going on?” Keisha asked, finally making it to them.

  Stop making such a scene. Just stop! Brooke tried to tell herself, but the anger and anxiety that had erupted from her still boiled just below the surface. As usual, it was taking a long time to calm down. Eventually this rage is going to go away, she told herself, and you’re going to feel embarrassed and guilty. But knowing that didn’t help. All Brooke wanted to do was tear this entire room apart.

  “Stay with Brooke,” Riley said. “I’m gonna check on Maddie.”

  Brooke watched Riley push through the patrons and rush out. She could feel everyone’s eyes on her. Turning her head to the right, she saw that a few people over there were staring too. Some were even smirking.

  “Are you all right?” Keisha asked. Brooke looked down, realizing she had a grip on Keisha’s shirt and immediately let go.

  “Just leave me alone, okay!” Scared to look around and see more people gawking at her, she glanced up into Keisha’s face and could tell her friend was at a loss. It was always like that. No one ever knew quite how to react after one of her episodes.

  She whipped around and headed toward the bathrooms. With tears stinging her eyes, Brooke tried to focus straight ahead, but as she marched past the last row of barstools, she heard some guy whistle at her and say, “Kick her ass, baby!” His friends were still laughing when she opened the door to the ladies’ room and went inside.

  Three

  Rising Waters, Untamed Brooke

  Brooke slammed the door and twisted the lock. Thank god she was finally alone. She didn’t want to see or talk to anyone. Fury still burned inside her. Not just because of the false accusation but because none of this was fair. Thirteen months ago, she would’ve laughed this off and told Maddie she was being ridiculous. She would’ve responded the way normal people respond. But she wasn’t normal anymore. She felt like an alien that even she didn’t recognize most of the time. How could anyone understand her if she couldn’t understand herself? Her emotions no longer made sense. That threshold she used to sense she was crossing when someone upset her had completely dissolved. And it was all because of one stupid mess-up that wasn’t even her fault.

  Brooke wrapped her fingers around the edge of the ceramic sink and stared at her reflection in the mirror. She leaned forward in the greenish tungsten light and studied her brown eyes. I want to be Brooke again, she thought. I want to be the girl everyone liked, not the one I am now.

  Most of what she knew about the accident was what she had pieced together from her friends’ accounts.

  “We were almost done with the routine when you came down from the basket toss,” Riley had told her when he came to see her in the hospital the next day. “I don’t know why but Maddie’s arm buckled and you hit the floor pretty hard. It wasn’t Maddie’s fault, though. Her grip was right, everything was right. I think you might’ve rotated back or something.”

  “It knocked me out?” Brooke asked, trying to imagine herself lying there on the gym floor in front of all those people.

  “Instantly. Coach came running over and yelled for someone to dial 9-1-1 and a bunch of people did.”

  Brooke looked up in the scratched bathroom mirror and pulled her hair to the side. Knowing exactly where to touch, she delicately placed her fingertips on her scar. Just a small, raised bump less than an inch long. It was hard to believe something so little, so seemingly insignificant, could cover so much damage.

  I hate myself, Brooke thought. She detested the mean, aggressive, angry Brooke that lived inside her now and erupted out of her control. Brooke had suspected that there was something wrong with her almost as soon as she had gotten home from the hospital, however it was two months after her accident that her fears were confirmed.

  “Have you gotten into any fights at school since the fall?” her neurologist, Dr. Lee, had asked at her follow-up appointment. His demeanor seemed different than all the times he’d seen her before. Brooke’s mother looked over at her, curious. Brooke had been in three—two with Maddie and one with her chemistry teacher, but she hadn’t mentioned them to her mom.

  “A few,” she admitted. “Nothing major.”

  She knew she was downplaying them all, but she didn’t want to admit how many there’d been. Despite everyone feeling sorry for her after the accident, she couldn’t
seem to get along with anyone.

  The doctor intimated that she wasn’t being completely honest, though. “When we checked serotonin levels, yours are low.”

  “What’s that mean?” her mother asked, clutching her purse tightly in her lap. Brooke could hear the panic in her voice.

  A sudden sharp knock brought Brooke out of her thoughts. She hastily wiped the smeared mascara from her face and dabbed the tears from her eyes with a paper towel. She was sure it was the bouncer on the other side of the door, waiting to kick her out.

  “Just a minute,” she called, trying to make her voice sound normal. When no one answered back, she hastily washed her hands and smoothed out her hair. Her heart rate was coming back down. The pills must be working, she thought. Usually, it would take at least fifteen or twenty minutes to calm down. Deciding she could handle going back out long enough to rush past all the snide remarks and curious looks, she opened the door. To her surprise, an attractive guy in a brown leather jacket was standing there.

  “Hey,” he said casually.

  “Oh. This is the women’s.” Did he need to pee or something?

  “I know. I came to check on you. You were pretty upset.” His voice was soft, carrying the hint of an accent she couldn’t quite place. Brooke’s gaze dropped from his gorgeous eyes to his strong jaw. His lips were parted slightly, like he was about to say something more, but he didn’t.

  “Yeah, well, I guess I’m having a bad day. I’ve had a lot of those lately.” Normally, Brooke would be embarrassed by her public outburst and the fact that a total stranger felt the need to check on her, but tonight she just felt angry.

  “You and me both,” he said as he shifted his weight to his other leg and crossed his arms in front of him. “Can I make yours a little better by buying you a drink?” Now she was even more surprised. Who was this guy? Whoever he was, it was hard not to be drawn to him. He had a vibe that made her want to step closer.

  “I’m not twenty-one yet,” she said with regret. The last thing she needed tonight was to get caught drinking and get arrested.

  The attractive guy leaned closer to her. She could smell just a touch of his cologne mixed with the scent of leather. Glancing left and right, he smiled as his gaze returned to her. Cupping his hands around his full lips so no one else could hear, he whispered, “Neither am I.”

  Four

  From the Ashes, a Phoenix

  Brooke walked through the bar, aware that several patrons were still staring at her. She could feel the attractive guy close behind her.

  “How about here?” he said. Brooke stopped at the closest booth and looked back at him. He shrugged.

  “Sure,” she said and sat down. He slid in across from her. She had no idea how he was going to buy them drinks since he was underage too, but she figured he must have a fake ID or something. She suddenly felt awkward. She wasn’t sure where her friends had gone. They were probably still trying to calm Maddie down. A pang of guilt shot through her. She knew she should be the one trying to smooth things over with Maddie, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. There was a part of her that didn’t care, that just wanted to avoid the whole drama, and that made her feel guilty too.

  “So. What’s your name?”

  “Brooke.”

  “I’m Jake.”

  “Nice to meet you, I think,” she said, smiling. She felt a tiny thrill shoot through her when he grinned back at her.

  “So, Brooke, do you come here often?” As soon as he said it, he touched the bottom of his chin as if he had just caught himself doing something wrong. “That sounded like a line, didn’t it?”

  “A really bad one.” Brooke grinned. As he brought his hands together on the table, she noticed the expensive watch wrapped snugly around his wrist. She’d never seen one with a giant face like that before, but it suited him and his nerdy-chic style.

  “Well, help me out a little. Tell me about ‘Brooke.’ I already know she’s smoking hot,” he said and drummed his thick fingers against the tabletop. Most guys would probably be worried that giving a compliment like that would scare a girl off, but Jake was clearly very confident. She couldn’t help but wonder, though, if Jake would still find her quite so hot if he knew about her disorder. She decided to avoid discussing it for the time being.

  “Not much to tell. I’m a junior at Bellamy High. My grades are pretty good except for econ. I’m a cheerleader. Parents are divorced. Dad moved somewhere, not sure where. I live with my mom. She has a boyfriend named Alex. He—” Before she could say more, Keisha interrupted.

  “Hey . . .” Keisha was breathless. “I was looking for you.” Brooke could see that the last place Keisha expected to find Brooke after the scene with Maddie was sitting at a table with a hot stranger.

  “Oh. This is Jake,” Brooke explained. “We sort of just met. This is my friend from school. Keisha.” Jake smiled and extended his hand. Keisha shook it, distracted.

  “Everybody’s calling it a night,” Keisha said, turning back to Brooke. “Are you coming? I can give you a ride. Maddie left by herself.”

  As nice as the offer was, Brooke didn’t feel like going home yet. Especially with Keisha. The last thing she wanted to do was have another conversation about how she needed to stop drinking and take her condition seriously and how she was slowly but surely ruining her relationship with Maddie.

  “I think I’ll hang out here a little longer,” Brooke said. The truth was, Jake intrigued her. He was incredibly attractive with a square jaw and a mischievous smile, and even though he’d just witnessed her fight with Maddie, he was still interested in spending time getting to know her. Besides, he was going to help her get drunk. It’s what she’d wanted all day, to escape for a few hours into a drunken haze, and now that she could add Maddie to her list of problems, she wanted it more than ever.

  “Are you sure?” Keisha whispered as she turned away from Jake. “You don’t even know him. It’s better if I take you home.”

  “You’re sweet, but really, I’m fine. I’ll shoot you a text once I’m safely tucked into my bed.” Keisha just continued to stare at her, clearly hoping she’d change her mind. “I’m a big girl,” Brooke added, trying to convince her. Keisha sighed and glanced back at Jake.

  “Okay. Text me, though.”

  “I promise.”

  Keisha squeezed Brooke’s shoulder and walked away.

  “I think she’s worried about you,” Jake said as he watched Keisha leave.

  “Should she be?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “I’m a pretty decent guy. Consider myself a gentleman. Most guys from Kansas probably do, though.”

  “You’re from Kansas, huh?” The only thing she knew about it was that Dorothy liked it enough to want to leave Oz and go back there. “What brought you to Pennsylvania?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  Interesting, she thought. He doesn’t want to talk about himself either.

  “I have time,” she said. “I mean, if you want to tell it,” she added quickly. “If you don’t, that’s fine too.” She didn’t want to pressure him to talk about his past. Ever since her accident, those seemingly innocuous questions like “How have you been?” and “What’ve you been up to lately?” felt loaded. She couldn’t answer them truthfully with a “Well, I’m pretty awful at the moment. People talk shit about me behind my back because I flip out at things I shouldn’t, I’ve lost almost all my friends except a few, and I have to pop pills and see a therapist just to feel semi-normal. But enough about me. How are youuuuu?” Brooke knew what it was like to not want to talk about herself and she respected that now in other people.

  “Well . . . I bailed out of my parents’ house when I was seventeen. They lived on a farm. Was homeless for six months. Moved to Silicon Valley. Got sick of the vibe out there, so I came here a few months ago. Created an app two months before I graduated high school. Sold it. And now I have enough money to live on for the rest of my life.” He said it as if it weren’t a big deal.

/>   Brooke was stunned. Was that story true or was he making it up to impress her?

  “You created an app?”

  “Yep.”

  “What’s it do?”

  “It’s a geolocation app for people who travel.”

  “For hikers?”

  “No, no, not like that. Let’s say you put it on your phone and then you travel to Dubai for work. The app uses your existing preferences and search histories to find things you’ll like in Dubai—a Starbucks, radio stations that play your favorite kind of music . . . that stuff.”

  “Wow.” Brooke was genuinely impressed. Not only was this guy confident and cute, but also super smart.

  “So you travel a lot?”

  Jake nodded and impatiently looked around for a server. Brooke was caring less and less about getting that drink, though. She wanted to know more about this mysterious stranger.

  “Why’d you leave your parents’ house? Did it just suck living on a farm?” Brooke regretted the question as soon as she asked it. Now it sounds like I’m interviewing him.

  Before he could answer, a stocky bartender walked up to their table. Damn, Brooke thought, sure he was coming over to kick them out. The night had just taken a turn for the better. She didn’t want it to end so soon.

  “Here you go. A bottle of our best champagne and two glasses,” the bartender said as a server followed him and set up an ice bucket. Brooke looked to Jake, stunned.

  “Thanks, man. Add it to my tab. And make sure you get this beautiful girl anything else she wants.”

  “At your service,” the bartender said happily as he opened the bottle. With a loud pop, the cork came out and he poured them each a tall, skinny flute of fizzy champagne.

  “Your tab?” Brooke asked, her eyes still wide. Jake shrugged humbly.

  “I come here a lot and I tip well, so . . . enjoy.” Jake delicately clinked his glass against hers and she took a sip. The bubbles felt like they were dancing on her tongue. It tasted so clean and crisp, not like the cheap booze she was used to drinking.