Broken Beautiful Hearts(18)
From the moment the gossip junkies at school heard about what happened at the party, I’ve been inundated with emails, social media messages, and—the latest—prank calls and texts. The fact that I haven’t been to school, or anywhere else except the doctor’s office, for the last three weeks hasn’t deterred the haters.
Team Reed—his friends, girls who want to hook up with him, other athletes who think I’m trying to destroy his future in MMA, and the bandwagon haters—instantly branded me as a bitter ex-girlfriend or “a girl trying to get attention.”
Reed’s clean drug test will give them another excuse to rally.
A handful of supportive messages also showed up in my inbox. Most of those were from anonymous senders or girls I don’t know very well who had been physically attacked by someone they knew—school bullies, a family member, or someone they were dating. People hadn’t believed them, either.
My phone pings again. Reed will probably keep texting me all night. I glance at the message and I suck in a sharp breath. I don’t think this one is from Reed.
watch your back bitch
Another text appears on the screen.
you can’t stay home forever
The house phone rings again.
“Where’s the cordless?” Mom calls from the hallway.
“In here.”
She pokes her head in my room, and I point at Dad’s chair. “Under Dad’s jacket.”
Mom digs through the clothes and finds the phone.
“Hello?” She tucks it under her chin, picks up one of the T-shirts piled on the chair, and starts folding. “What did you say?”
The color drains from her face and she drops the shirt.
“Who is it?”
Mom hangs up and stares at the phone. “I don’t know. But he was threatening you.”
“Are you sure it wasn’t Reed?”
“Positive. I would recognize his voice.”
“What did he say?”
The phone rings again, startling me. Mom’s finger hovers over the buttons on the cordless. “Don’t answer it, Mom!”
She ignores me and stabs one of the buttons.
A few seconds pass.
“I’m calling the police.” She hangs up and hurls the phone into the hallway, watching it roll across the carpet.
“Mom? Was it the same person? Tell me what he said.”
“I don’t want to repeat it.” She twists her wedding ring, her hands shaking. “It will upset you.”
“The way it’s upsetting you right now?” Seeing her so rattled makes me nervous.
Mom touches a framed photo of Dad on my dresser. He’s not wearing his Marine Corps uniform or cammies. He’s dressed in his red-and-white league soccer uniform, with a ball tucked in the crook of his arm. “If your father were here, he would know exactly how to handle this.”
“We can deal with it. Just tell me what the guy said.”
She takes a calming breath. “He said, ‘Watch your back, bitch. You can’t stay home forever.’”
The same thing someone texted me.
A prickling sensation spreads up the back of my neck, like dozens of tiny spiders crawling over my skin.
“Who calls someone’s home and says that kind of thing?” Mom paces in front of the bed. “I hope the people who have been harassing you feel terrible when they finally find out the truth about Reed.”
“That’s not going to happen.” My throat feels like it’s closing up. “Tess called. Reed passed the drug test. No one will believe me now.”
Mom stares at me in shock. “How could he have passed?”
“I was online trying to figure that out. It’s easier than you think.”
The phone rings again.
“Don’t answer it this time, or he’ll keep calling,” I tell her.
“Fine.” Mom presses her fingers against her temples. Her nerves are frayed. “I’m going to get a glass of water and take something for my headache. Do you want a snack? You haven’t eaten much all day.”
“No thanks.”
She rubs her neck and walks into the hallway.
The phone rings again.
“Unplug it,” I yell, but the doorbell rings and drowns out my voice.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Mom yells.
I stand up slowly. The RoboCop brace throws off my center of gravity and I’m not used to it yet. As I walk into the hall to unplug the landline, the doorbell rings again.
“I’m coming!” Mom shouts.
The phone is still ringing and I yank the cord out of the wall.
“What in the hell are you doing here?” I hear Mom ask.
“I want to see Peyton, if that’s okay.” The sound of Reed’s voice knocks the wind out of me, and I reach for the wall to steady myself.
“Is this a joke?”
I peek around the corner.
“No. I took my drug test this morning, and it came back clean.” Reed sounds excited, like a kid. “Didn’t Peyton tell you?”
“She stopped caring about your life when you pushed her down the stairs. But I’m thrilled to hear that you found a way to cheat on the test.”
“I didn’t—”
Mom points at him. “Don’t you dare show up here and lie to me. Now, get your ass off my property or I’ll have you arrested and you can spend some time in jail, where you belong.”