Broken (4 page)

So my gut said I'd probably see Dimitri in the evening if I went to that party. How fortunate I was to have a full day of Dimitri.

“Would you like to taste mine?” Merek asked.

“Sure,” I smiled. He passed me his oversize mug. “Should I guess?”

“Smell,” he said.

“Pumpkin.”

“An acute sense of smell …” he said.

“Yum.” I turned his mug around to the side, opposite of where he had taken a sip. I took a slow, cautious sip. Judging by the steam coming out of the mug, it was piping hot. “Pumpkin and toffee?” I asked and took a second sip. “Marvelous! Was that off menu?”

“No need for menu. I create flavors at home for fun. My sisters love espresso. So our mother has taught us how to make it sweet,” he said.

“Wow!”

“I can make you one, one time?” he asked.

“Absolutely! I'm going to this party tonight at Cara's house. Do you know her?” Maybe he could tell me something more about her than I knew—which was nothing.

“No, but I would like to take you if I could,” he said.

“Yeah!” It just came out. I mean, was this okay? Why had I just agreed to go with this guy?

“What's your number?” he asked.

My friend, Winter, was always so cool and put-together around guys. She had a mystery about her, and she never said too much of anything. I wished I could be like that. I was always confused about how I should be. Myself was a good start, but then was that the right thing? “646-222-6666,” I said.

“I'll text you. So now you have my number. Save me.”

“I'll be sure to throw you a life raft,” I said. He smiled. I was tempted to put him in my phone as Jughead. “How do you spell your name?”

“M-E-R-E-K,” he said.

“Milan and Merek”—it went pretty well together. Unlike Noel, I would never be able to tell him my secret. There was something about the way he looked at me.

“Is it ‘Milan,' like the city?” he asked.

“It is.”

“How ironic we met. Milan is one of my favorite cities in Europe,” he said. Though I couldn't hear him, his mannerisms and the slight smirk across his face made me feel like he was speaking sweetly. He seemed like the kind of guy that sent a girl letters in curly cursive just because.

A girl walked through the Saloon doors. Her style was sort of plain, but her long, erect back and the way she walked with calm determination through the crowd made you look. Her large-framed black Urkel-like glasses skewed things a bit. They were probably Haan, but still not cute.

I watched keenly as she approached Sierra. This girl must have been interesting. Sierra never invited anybody out. “So check you later?” I asked.

“I'm going to dip. I'll hit you up around 7,” he said.

“Text me.”

“Worship you.” He laughed. Yikes. “You know you are the kind of the girl who should be worshipped,” he added.

“We'll see about that,” I laughed. He slowly backed away from me. I turned around while he was still watching. Mystery—I had to remind myself.

“What are you shaking your head about?” Sierra asked.

“Nothing.” Had I been shaking my head?

“This is Cece,” she said.

“Hey, I'm Milan.”

“Yes, I've seen you … in Times Square. Everyone in this room probably knows your name,” Cece said.

“Probably not,” I said.

“C'mon, Milan. Stop being so modest,” Sierra said.

“Oh, gosh!” I said. Frenchy jerked me by the shoulder and spun me around to face her.

“Who was the sexy foreign exchange [SFX]? I caught an eyeful of you and him swapping digits,” Frenchy said.

“Merek. What, now live video feed for Tracebook?” I said.

“I would never,” Frenchy said.

“I know,” I said.

“I'm Frenchy, by the way. My sister invited you?” she said.

“Yes. I'm Cece. We had art together last semester.” Cece shook Frenchy's hand. But not without staring first.

“Oh, stop being such a wretch, French,” Sierra said. Frenchy winced. Sierra brushed her hair off her shoulder and brushed her shoulder off. I smirked. Never a dull moment. “So what the dealeo with you and the SFX, M?” Sierra asked.

“Ewu, are you permanently stuck on bad '90s slang?” Frenchy asked.

“Shut up, snob,” Sierra said.

“He asked to take me to Cara's party,” I said.

“That's what's up,” Frenchy said.

“Ewu, are you going?” Sierra said.

Cece looked away. “I'm going to get a drink,” she said.

“You coming to Cara's party, Cece?” Sierra asked.

“Um … well … no,” Cece said.

“Were you even invited?” Frenchy asked.

“Ewu, don't be rude!” Sierra said. “You should come. I'm going. My sister. You're going too, Milan, right?”

“Yeah, I guess.” I wasn't as enthusiastic about it as Sierra was.

“Come, Cece. It will be fun, especially since we're going. Do you know Cara?” Sierra asked.

“Oh, no. Not really,” Cece just kept shaking her head no.

My guess was she did know Cara. “Have you heard of her?” I asked.

“I might have seen her around. Does anyone want anything?” Cece said.

“I'm good,” Sierra said.

“Me too,” I said.

“A banana café would be amazing,” Frenchy said.

Sierra rolled her eyes. “Why bother?” she asked Frenchy.

Cece walked off. She also had something about her that reminded me of Winter. The calm air of confidence. It was obvious Frenchy was trying to annoy her and yet she couldn't care less. Winter was someone I would trust with my life. I was beginning to think I might like Cece.

“Catch Cara mackin' on your brother?” Sierra texted me.

“A little painful to watch,” I texted.

“Even more painful when she finds out he's a total jerk who would never ditch Tai for her,” Sierra texted. Had she noticed the showdown as well? My vote was on Tai, though it would've been good for Dimitri if he ended up alone!

Cara was busy talking to a sophomore by the door. A young girl dressed equally as scandalous. I guess they understood each other. From one-size-medium-squeezed-into-an-extra-small to another. The gray jersey knit dress was so tight you could see her hot pink bra through the top. She even had on hot pink earrings to match. She had smoky eyes, peach blush, nude lips, and fresh flat-iron. Her long caramel, brown locks—possibly extensions—graced her waist. She laughed on command at Cara's every word. Maybe Cara was that funny. It was possible that Caramel Locks over there knew Cara's
deal. Maybe I could bump into her at the party. Or was that too obvious? Definitely not as obvious as Cara's interest in Dimitri.

Dimitri got up from his table. I looked back at Cara. Her eyes followed him.

“Hey!” Cece returned with a large cup of coffee and Frenchy's drink. Sierra checked her watch. I looked at mine.

“Still riding at 3?” she asked.

“You know it. Let's go. You want to come with?” Sierra asked Cece.

“Sure,” Cece said.

Frenchy shook her head. “My stock is plummeting off the charts. Before you know it, we'll be in the negative on cool points,” Frenchy texted me.

“No worries. I got you,” I texted.

She laughed. “Wow. Am I at the point of an S.O.S.?”

“We have a new crew so the jury is still out.” I liked to play along with Frenchy's dramatizations.

“Check Philicia, nine o'clock,” Frenchy texted.

“Be easy,” I texted.

“I got you,” Frenchy texted.

We both laughed. Philicia and Frenchy were age-old frenemies. Philicia was somewhat geeky. It wasn't the way she dressed. She dressed average—for example, today she had on a khaki skirt and a polo tee. She was just into some obscure things like the Students Against Social Media club. This was an obvious travesty of magnificent proportions since it warranted an after-school commitment. Whatever happened to good ole animal rights or feeding the hungry? Philicia was also part of the marching band. Her
instrument? Cymbals. I'm sure she was very friendly. She had that curly mop-top sort of hair. That was cool. Either way, Frenchy was never going to forget Philicia stealing her first boyfriend in the ninth grade. I really didn't think Philicia still cared. She was always trying to say hi to Frenchy.

“Is she texting you?” Sierra texted.

Oh, gosh. Sierra was always so personal. She always acted like I liked Frenchy more than I liked her. I wondered if the constant competition had something to do with being a twin.

We walked out of the Saloon with an air of excitement. I was actually terrified of riding. But in a good way. It was challenging. I gave the horse commands but I had to feel him through the ride. I felt like it was one thing where I wasn't handicapped. It was all about feeling.

“Hey, Frenchy. Um, we're doing a pool thing at my house tomorrow. Maybe you and Sierra want to come?” Philicia said to Frenchy.

Had she rushed out of the Saloon to catch us? This was not good. I just shook my head. While Philicia was nice, Frenchy always held a grudge.

“You know I sleep better knowing you are dead to me.” Frenchy walked right past Philicia to the valet booth.

“Sorry. She has no manners,” Sierra said as she followed behind Frenchy with the valet ticket in hand. I just smiled at Philicia. I didn't really know her.

“Is she sprawled all over your brother's Ferrari?”

Mama's Ferrari? The speed of my turn probably attracted more attention than I wanted. I was flaming mad when I saw Cara lying on the front of the Ferrari with Dimitri
standing there like an idiot making googly eyes at her. She sat up, turned to him, then wrapped her legs around him. She put a white piece of paper in his pocket. Then she climbed over him and walked away. She slid her fingers along the side of the car as she walked away.

Then she turned around to him and said, “Will you give me a ride in your Batmobile later?”

Sierra grabbed me by the arm. “The car's here.” I looked back. Dimitri had pulled away. Cara ducked into the back of a Rolls-Royce.

“We're like celebrities. Everyone on the block is watching us,” Sierra said.

“Yeah, right!” I said.

“Please, you know you love it!” Sierra said.

We were certainly A-list. But not by my design. It just happened that we were friends with all the A-list people in our class. I'd always sat in the A section at lunch. Sierra and Frenchy liked to think of us as famous. I garnered enough stares in public. I'd like to think the people at school were used to seeing me. Take, for example, Apple. We said hi to each other. Her father was the producer of three of the top five action films last year. Her mother was an Oscar-nominated actress who was on an HBO pilot this year. And her sister had her own cable reality show. Apple was the quiet type, though. She'd been taking fashion design classes at night since the 10th grade. We weren't really associated except through gym. We sat next to each other during roll call. Then, next
thing I heard, she had a recurring role on some soap opera. Now she would qualify as a star. Magazines were different from TV. I had no need for fame. It'd be that much harder to keep a secret.

I walked over to the black BMW. The twins' parents had bought them both black BMWs for their 16th birthday. “Mine's in the shop,” Frenchy said. Sierra walked up to a blue Prius.

“Is your car in the shop too?” I asked.

“No, I decided to trade mine in,” Sierra said.

“This is so cool. My mom keeps saying she's going to trade the Merc for a Smart car,” Cece said.

“Yeah, I'd like to see someone try that on for size—a Mercedes for a Smart car. Just dumb!” Frenchy said.

“Stop throwing shade,” Sierra said.

“M, you know, I drive past your billboard every day. My mom made me intern this past year at one of her stores. She says I need to learn how money is made,” Cece said.

“Yeah, I'm peddling fragrance now.” I laughed. Sierra laughed. Cece look bewildered. “I'm just being silly. The fragrance is totally me. I love Undercover Starlet.”

“Milan, enough shop talk,” Sierra said. We all piled into Sierra's Prius. I sat in the front seat. Cece and Frenchy sat in the back. “You're riding right. Don't leave me alone with Frenchy,” Sierra said as she pulled away. I caught a glimpse of Frenchy in the rearview mirror. She was busy texting.

“By the way, Cara's going to meet us in half,” Frenchy said.

“Frenchy, I don't know why you think Cara's cool. She almost had her tongue down Dimitri's throat. That doesn't tell you something?” Sierra said.

“You're just mad because you used to have a crush on him!” Frenchy said.

“I did not!” Sierra returned.

“Whatev. When we first met him, you said he was hot enough to melt a snowman in the dead of winter,” Frenchy said.

“I did not!”

“I could never make up something so cheesy!” Frenchy said.

Sierra's face turned beet red. “I hope she's giving you a ride home!”

“I sleep in the house with you,” Frenchy said, raising her eyebrow.

“You're taking this all very well, Milan,” Sierra said.

“I'm well adjusted,” I said. Sierra and I looked at each other and laughed. “Cece, do you like riding?” I asked. We needed a change of subject.

“Yes, but I haven't ridden since I was little,” she said.

“It's like riding a bike,” Sierra said.

“Cool. I'm going to do some riding too!” I said.

“Yeah, last time Milan almost got thrown from the horse, head first!” Frenchy said.

“That wasn't funny!” I said. “And it wasn't last time. That was like three months ago. Get your facts straight! Guys, are you trying to scare Cece? It wasn't that bad.” I kept my fingers crossed as I said that. It was pretty alarming. The horse they gave me was some young stallion. As soon as I got on him, he took off. I could barely control him. I
was so nervous. The trainer said the horse knew when you were nervous. If I was in control of myself, then I could control the horse. Who was going to control Frenchy?