Our Broken Pieces - M.E. Clayton Page 0,23

start acting like one. Just tell everyone to go get fucked. It’s me and you, Mystic. Me and you.”

“And when we graduate?”

“We still won’t be over,” I told her. “We’ll never be over.”

Little did I know she’d make a liar out of me.

Chapter 13

Mystic~

It lasted three months.

Granted, it was two months longer than I would have expected, but it still, inevitably, came to a crashing end only a few months away from freedom.

I hadn’t thought anything out of the ordinary when I was called into the counselor’s office because I still hadn’t given her a satisfactory answer to what my future plans were and Mrs. Berny had only been trying to wrap up her job with the few stragglers that still remained. However, I hadn’t expected to find Mrs. Berny, my parents, the gym teacher, Mrs. Lemas, and the principal, Mr. Grant, to all be in attendance when I walked in.

I glanced at everyone, bewildered, but it was when Mrs. Lemas averted her eyes that my heart sank, and I knew.

Mrs. Berny gave me a small, sad smile. “Mystic, honey, why don’t you take a seat,” she said softly.

Even though I knew, I had to ask anyway. “What’s going on?”

“That’s what we’d like for you to tell us,” my father snapped.

“Gene,” my mother murmured, trying to calm him down.

I sat down and immediately wish I hadn’t. I didn’t like that, with the exception of Mrs. Berny, everyone else was standing. It felt intimidating. However, I stayed seated, not saying a word. I wasn’t going to offer them a shred of evidence until I knew for certain what this was all about.

After a couple of moments of uncomfortable silence, Mrs. Berny finally spoke. “Mystic, uhm, Mrs. Lemas came to me with some concerns.” My eyes flashed towards Mrs. Lemas, but she was still avoiding my gaze. “There are some concerns over…uhm, some bruising that you may have.”

I closed my eyes, and I could feel my heart drop so far down, I wasn’t sure if I’d ever find it again. When I opened them, Mrs. Berny was looking at me like she knew everything. And maybe she did. She was, after all, trained to spot child abuse and neglect. Maybe she could see what no one else could.

I said the only thing I could. “I appreciate the concern, Mrs. Berny. However, I’m fine.”

“This is horseshit!”

“Gene,” my mother rushed out.

“Ms. Anderson, can you tell us where you got these bruises?” Mr. Grant asked.

I turned to face him. “I’m clumsy sometimes,” I lied.

“Those are not accidental bruises, Mystic,” Mrs. Lemas said, finally facing the shitstorm she kicked off. “I’ve seen bruises from accidents or playing sports. Those are not them, Mystic.”

I could feel myself snarling at her. “They’re none of your business, is what they are, Mrs. Lemas.”

“Mystic!” my mother exclaimed. “This is serious!”

I turned in my chair to face her. “What is? Why are you all here?”

“We’re here, so you can tell us who the hell is abusing you!” my father roared.

I stood up out of my chair. “No one is abusing me!” I yelled back.

“Mystic-”

My head was spinning with so many people in the room trying to speak to me. “What, Mr. Grant? What?!” My eyes searched their faces and I was panicked.

Fucking. Panicked.

“Mystic, we know it’s Gage Evans, honey,” Mrs. Berny spoke, nearly dropping me to my knees.

I whirled around on her. “You know it’s Gage Evans that what?”

“Oh, honey,” my mother cried. “Margot told us everything.”

I dropped in my chair, stunned.

Absolutely, positively stunned.

“Wh…what?”

“Once Mrs. Lemas brought her concerns to us, we called Margot in to shed some light on…what was going on, since she’s your best friend,” Mrs. Berny explained.

“Was.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Margot was my best friend, Mrs. Berny. As in, she isn’t anymore,” I clarified. Her betrayal felt like a ragged slice down my back. The morning after her birthday party, I had told her all about me and Gage. I hadn’t told her the deep, dark, damaging details, but I had let her know that our sex got rough sometimes. She had accepted my explanation and apology, but when the bruises and bite marks started making their appearances more frequently, I had noticed Margot beginning to judge.

A part of me had wondered if she was jealous, but I hadn’t wanted to taint our friendship with those negative thoughts because Margot was a good person. However, whenever Gage was near, I could see her disdain for his possessiveness. Once we’d gone public, Gage had gone all out in letting everyone know