Broken by C.J. Lyons Read Free Book Online

Jordan is serious or joking or making fun of her, he’s that good. I make a note to take lessons from him. A poker face like that could come in handy.
    “And Celina Price. Hmmm.” Mom makes that nursing noise of hers, the one that makes you want to start planning funerals. “When’s your next free period? You need to stop by my office.”
    Celina’s face grows so gray it blends into the gray wall behind her, like she’s trying to fade away, vanish. “Peer support takes up all my free periods,” she mumbles.
    Mom doesn’t miss a beat. “Okay, then I’ll be waiting before first period tomorrow. Seven forty-five a.m. Sharp.”
    Celina looks down, smushing her food around her plate in a death spiral.
    Finally, Mom hands me my lunch and focuses on me. She steps into the aisle so she can feel my cheeks and forehead.
    The guys at the next table laugh. They’re jocks, wearing Wildcats letterman jackets—the fluorescent orange snarling outline of the wildcat lunging off the white wool like a hyena stalking its prey. No matter where I move, those hyena eyes follow me.
    Mom doesn’t seem to notice. “Are you certain you’re feeling okay? Maybe you should go home?” She takes my pulse. Her eyes narrow, revealing her worry wrinkles. She really is concerned, doesn’t think I can make it all day, much less to the end of the week.
    “I’m fine.”
    She doesn’t believe me. “Hmm…okay. Well, take another vitamin, just to keep your strength up.” As if by magic, one of her horse pills appears in her hand. She dangles it above my mouth. “Open up.”
    My face burns as I feel every single person in the cafeteria suddenly stop eating, stop talking, and start staring. At me.
    I have no choice but to get this over with fast. I open my mouth and let my mom pop the pill in like feeding a baby bird who’s too weak to do anything for itself. Baby birds—quick snacks for hyenas. The vision pops in and out of my mind like a hiccup. And once there, it’s just as hard to get rid of.
    “Drink. Let me see you swallow it.” I obey. “Good girl.” She brushes her palms together as if finishing an arduous task and smiles at us. “Nice to see you all.” Then she kisses me on the forehead. I’m surprised she doesn’t feel how hot it is, burning with humiliation. “Love ya, bye now.”
    Mom leaves, everyone’s eyes following her through the maze of tables as she leaves. Silence reigns. Except for the pounding of my pulse in my temples, ringing out my embarrassment.
    My face buried in my hands, I tell myself that the worst is over, nothing else could possibly go wrong today.
    I hate being wrong.

15
    When I was thirteen, the Year of Nothing Good, I decided my mom was trying to kill me.
    It was April. I was feeling tired but okay, just out of the hospital. Another frustrating stay where the doctors did everything except cut me open, which they’d get around to later that summer, costing me a trip to the beach Make-a-Wish had organized—I still have never seen the ocean. Despite all their tests, they had no explanation for my symptoms, so they’d decided to monitor me off all meds, in case I was having an “idiosyncratic” reaction to one of them.
    Somehow the idea that maybe I didn’t need any of the medicine Mom gave me got warped into a suspicion that Mom was behind all my symptoms.
    After all, I’d pretty much been sick my entire life and she’d been around almost that long, pushing pills down my throat, hauling me from doctor to doctor. It just didn’t make sense, one little girl having so many symptoms that all those smart doctors couldn’t figure out. And, if Mom was the cause, then as soon as I proved it, for the first time ever, I’d have a chance at being a normal girl.
    Don’t get me wrong. I love my Mom. I really, really didn’t want her to be the one making me sick.
    After all, our entire family revolves around her taking care of me, Dad heading out on the road earning a living and keeping