Breakable by Aimee L. Salter Read Free Book Online Page A

highlighting her cheekbones. I
didn’t know how she found them. But they looked perfect on her. Then again,
everything did.
    She
sat, rigid, at the dining table, staring at something.
    My
phone.
    My
heart dipped, bounced off my lower abdomen and returned to its rightful place
where it sped off, thumping painfully.
    “Mom,
what are you doing up?”
    “Who
is sending these, Stacy?” Mom held up the phone, screen bright with a text
message.
    “You
opened my messages?! Those were private!”
    Mom’s
face remained impassive. She turned the phone to herself and began to read. “Oh
em gee. You’re so fat and stupid. Stop throwing yourself at guys.
Everyone…h-eight…hates you.”
    Mortification
started at my hairline and cut through every nerve ending on its way to my
toes. “Mom–”
    “Bow
wow. Go home dog.”
    I
swallowed. But she wasn’t finished.
    “Hey,
Fugly. If you really want some, you can have this.” Her eyes finally lifted to
meet mine. “There’s a picture attached of a boy’s penis. At least, I think
that’s what it is. He isn’t the best photographer. And frankly, in a year or
two, he’ll realize what he’s got there isn’t really anything to be proud of.”
    I
knew I should laugh. She was mocking whoever had sent it. But she didn’t smile
and I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t find any thought except, tell
me they’re wrong. She was my mother. She should look at stuff like that and
reassure me. Right?
    “What
is this, Stacy?” Her voice was cold. Any hope I’d had that she would make this
easier curled up its toes and died.
    “I…uh…it’s
just. It’s joking stuff. I tripped at the dance and a guy fell on top of me.
They’re…they’re just teasing me about it.”
    One
of her eyebrows slid higher. “Do teenagers routinely send photos of their genitals
to each other? I thought that was just a Dateline special?”
    I
shook my head. I couldn’t answer that. My cheeks flamed. I’d learned a long time
ago to set my phone not to automatically download images, and not to open any
attachments.
    Mom
dropped the phone to the tabletop and sat back, chewing the inside of her lip.
She sighed. “This is so…”
    Awful.
Undeserved. Unfair. Wrong.
    “…disappointing.
You have to learn to stand up for yourself, Stacy! I mean, life isn’t going to
get easier out of high school. You know that right?”
    I
swallowed new tears and nodded.
    “No
one’s going to hand you respect. You have to earn it. Demand it! You can’t walk
into a room of teenagers looking like last year’s leftovers and expect them to
admire you.” She flipped a hand at my now bedraggled appearance. “It starts
with how you look, then you tell them what to think of you, then you act like
you own the world. That’s the only way to get through this life without being a
loser. Do you want to be a loser? Like your father?”
    I
closed my eyes. “No.” I couldn’t make it sound strong.
    Mom
dropped her face into her hands. “It seems like everything I say goes in one
ear and out the other. You think I just want to hear myself talk?”
    Sometimes. “No.”
    “So
why do these kids feel like they can do this? Why aren’t you on that phone
giving as good as you get? Why do they feel like it’s okay to do this to you?
What did you do?” She indicated the phone and my jaw dropped.
    “Me?!
What did I do?” She thought I wanted this?
    Her
stubborn, questioning face didn’t change.
    I
couldn’t handle any more. I stormed over to the table, grabbed the phone and
made for my room.
    “Stacy,
I’m not finished!”
    “Well,
I am.”
    I
slammed the door into the hallway over her frustrated growl and ran to my room.
Throwing the door closed behind me with a satisfying bang, I threw the phone as
hard as I could, so hard I grunted with the effort.
    It
smacked against the wall and tumbled to the floor, the screen a starburst of
cracks. But the stupid cover stopped it from falling apart. It just lay on the
carpet,