Beautifully Broken

My best guy friend, Wesley, came to check in on me. I said nothing. That didn't bother him - he met me when I was practically mute, so he can deal with me not talking. I can tell it bothers him when I can't even talk to him. His forehead crinkles and he frowns for a second but then it's replaced by a toothy grin and next thing I know, he's going through my underwear drawer just to snap me out of it. I hate that it works on me.

"You need cuter bras." He said, tossing a plain black one to the floor.
"You need to stay out of my underwear drawer."
"Hey, I'm just looking out for you. If you started wearing lacy bras with that see-through shirt I'm gonna get you for your birthday, then maybe you would have more self-confidence."
"I would die from embarrassment and hypothermia."
"You're gorgeous, chica. How many times do I have to say it to you before it starts to make sense to you?"

I ignored him. He rolled his eyes and took out my cutest bra - a pink one with pandas on it, and tried to put it on himself.

"Okay, one - that bra will not fit you. You're at least an AA-cup. Two, it's totally not your style."
"Ha and ha." He ignored my sarcasm and kept trying to hook it.
"God, if you're gonna embrace your inner woman, at least act like you've put on a bra before."
"Why do you assume that I would have any idea how to put on a bra?"
"I dunno. Ever taken one off?"
That hurt him. He scowled and tossed my bra to the floor then went downstairs. He was going to the kitchen. He needed his favorite snack food to get him out of a funk: popcorn.

"Why do you have to stink up my house with that disgusting fake butter popcorn smell?" I made a face once I got to the kitchen.
"I don't know what your problem is. This is like crack for me: you know it's bad for you, but damn it you're too addicted to care." He tossed a bag into the microwave.
"I repeat - it's disgusting."
"Ignoring you. Now, what are your plans for the rest of spring break?"
"Lock myself in my room and practice for the ACT."
He stared at me. "You might actually die of boredom. No way will I let my best friend commit suicide like that!"
"But-"
"Shut it. You're practice scores are kick-ass, and if your scores suck, you can retake it. And if that isn't enough, your grades have been great this year-"
"Except for my F in trig-"
"-Which I am helping you turn into at least a C and you aren't planning to take another math course next year so no worry about failing again, so you'll be like a delicious potential new student for a ton of colleges."
"Okay, but why am I delicious?"
"Because anything that falls under the categories of sweet, sometimes sour, and smoking hot has got to taste pretty damn good."
I rolled my eyes but blushed just the same. "You know I hate compliments."
"I still don't see how that's possible."
"Because they're exaggerations of the truth. It's like extreme lying."
He rolled his eyes and opened the microwave after the beep. I watched him go to pick up the steaming hot bag of popcorn with his bare hands, not bothering to warn him for the hundredth time that he was gonna burn his hands. And...

"SHIT!"

There we go.

"For the last time, Wesley - caution: this product will be very hot!"
"Shut it." He sucked on his thumb. I smiled, it reminded me my old thumb-sucking habit which he had no problem teasing me about. Why does sucking your thumb bring you such comfort as a kid?

My cell phone rang. My mom. She always calls when she's out shopping, usually to ask what we need to restock on (for some reason, she doesn't make a list) and then later she will call to ask me and my brother to come downstairs and help bring up groceries. I hate that part. She shops way too much.

"Hello?" I answered, biting back my attitude.
"Do we have any..."
I answered her numerous questions of 'do we have' and 'do we need'. She was no where near home so I didn't need to help with groceries yet. Wes was sitting on my couch, making a mess of popcorn and watching Doctor Who.
"Okay. I'll call you when I'm close to home."
"Alright mom. Bye."

I joined Wes on the couch. "What episode is this?"
"Rerun. Something about the Daleks - nothing special."
I sighed and lay my head on his shoulder. He grunted and kept shoveling popcorn into his mouth.
"You are such a pig."
He actually snorted, and I couldn't help but laugh so hard that I ended up snorting too.
"Who's the pig now?"
"Go suck a duck."
"Pigs don't eat ducks. Too many feathers."
"You don't have to eat it, just suck it."
"Same problem."
"Whatever."
"Hey, what time is it?"
"1:11 p.m."
"Crap, I've gotta head back to the foster home - I promised Jordan I'd help him with his school project over break. Catch you later?"
"You know where to find me."
"I'm kidnapping you tomorrow, so dress accordingly." He said while jumping off the couch, taking the bag of popcorn with him.
"How does one dress to be kidnapped?"
"Running shoes, pants that are hard to get off, and a knife strapped to your inner thigh."
"Why-" I didn't get to answer. He had already walked out the door. "Hmph."

Wesley just recently became my best friend. We knew each other from school but we didn't talk much. We actually had lockers right next to each other.

One day, he overheard me talking to my locker partner about how my mom had most recently pissed me off. He scoffed, so we looked at him and he said I sound just like this girl who used to live at the foster home. I don't know why, but we bonded after that by complaining about parents. He kind of figured out for himself how upset I really was and that my mom wasn't always to blame for it, and he really stuck to my side after that.

He was pretty quiet at school. I honestly don't think anyone had heard him talk before. He must have been smart because the teachers never called on him but he still passed, and we always saw him hanging with "the nerds", and he always has his laptop. That's all anyone else knows about him, but I have the privilege of being his friend now.

He's brilliant and definitely the type of friend to always cheer you up. I don't know a lot about his personal life, and I don't hear much about his home life unless he's walking out the door to go home. I had heard rumors about why he was in a foster home, but I have yet to ask if they're true. I don't want to offend him.

Mom came home later. She yelled at me while I put away the groceries. I tuned her out so I don't know what she was saying. I later retreated to my room and then fell asleep reading Evil Genius by Catherine Jinks - funny book (first in the 3-book series).

I woke up the next day to my cell phone ringing... for the fifth time. When I sleep, I fall into a coma. It's nice :) I decided to get up and go to the bathroom before calling Wesley back since he can talk forever. Coming back to my room, I went and opened the windows since I need to feel cool air on me at all times.

It was a sickeningly bright and sunny day.

I was going to be squinting and frowning all day.

Sighing, I picked up my phone and returned Wesley's calls.

"It's about time you answered! I called you-"
"Five times, I know."
"Ugh. I'm changing your name from Sleeping Beauty to Dead Chick."
"Cool, now I can be a zombie."
I laughed while he groaned. Apparently he wasn't in the mood for my humor.
"Are you at least out of bed?"
"Yep."
"Good. Now go take a shower. I'm coming over in twenty minutes. Don't put on any fancy clothes cause I'm gonna make you change them anyway."
"So then what should I wear?"
"I don't know. Does it matter as long as you aren't..."
"What?"
"...Nothing, just put on a t-shirt and shorts or something. Twenty minutes."
He hung up.

Well, someone's being huffy today. Zak probably pissed in his cereal... literally. Zak is one of the many teens at the foster home, and from what I've heard, he's the devil. I won't say that he is since I've never actually met him, but he's probably the one person who can ultimately piss off Wes so bad that he can't even pay attention to anything else around him - he goes into a zone where all he sees is anger, and then he'll just snap out of it at random and act like nothing happened. It's really weird.

I figured I might as well obey Wesley's demand and take a shower and allow myself to become his dress-up doll. It's easier not to fight him - we both know he's gonna win anyway since I have no real argument as to why I can't hang out with him today.

I took a long shower. He came in just as I was putting on my t-shirt. He blushed and left the room.

"I gave you twenty minutes. Why aren't you dressed?" He said through the door.
"I took a long shower." I pulled the shirt over my head.
He didn't answer. I put on denim shorts and went to open the door. He came in without giving me eye contact. I normally don't show a lot of skin: jeans, jackets, etc. This was the most he's ever seen of me.
"Did you see me-"
"Where's your closet?"
I ignored the fact that he knew exactly where it was and pointed to it. Great, start the day off awkward.
"My mom yelled at me yesterday. I think it had something to do with all the popcorn you left on the couch."
"Sorry."
"Sorry nothing. You are cleaning it up before she wakes up."
He looked at me. "No way!"
"Yes way! You did it!"
"You're the one who wouldn't feed me! If you had, then I wouldn't have been forced to do it myself."
"I'm not even gonna respond to your weird logic."
"Because you know that it is irrefutable."
"No, because I know that it'll only make my brain hurt to have it try working down on your level."

He laughed and started looking through my closet. I sat on my bed and waited for further instruction. I still had no idea what he planned for today, but I am way too apathetic to fight him right now.

Next thing I knew, I was being shoved into the bathroom to put on what he had picked out for me. I emerged in a white graphic shirt, jeans, panda socks and converse shoes.

"Really? You own Converse?" You're so mainstream." He chuckled.
"Shut up." I threw a comb at his head, which he caught with his freakishly fast reflexes.

He came to my side and made me sit on my bed. After attacking my hair with comb, brush, and flat-iron, he swiped some eyeliner and gloss on my face (despite my protest) and gave me some random rubber bracelets to put on. He looked at my neck and smiled. I was wearing the necklaces he gave me. Even though I yelled at him to return them because I knew they were expensive, I am in love with them and am happy that he refused to take them back.

He stared at me, as if admiring his masterpiece. His nose was practically touching mine and it had been a while since he blinked. I rolled my eyes and stood up from the bed, making him blink and back up. I picked up the mirror off of my dresser and stared at my reflection.

My self-esteem is too low. I don't know how I look. I just see that same boring face that I always see. (Why do I even still have a mirror?)

"Tell me how I look." I point the mirror at him. He blinks and smiles.
"You look beau- uh you look cute- uh... damn it, how the hell can I tell you how you look if you hate every compliment I can think of?" He groaned.
I laughed. "Just tell me your honest opinion."
"Honest?" He scratched his head. "Uh... well... you look-" His phone rang. "Hold on."
I sighed.

That happens a lot. It's like whenever he knows that he has the possibility of saying something embarrassing or offensive, his phone just so happens to ring or beep. Saved by the cell. And of course, he ignores the previous issue after he's done with his phone.

He told whoever he was talking to that he'd be there tonight. I have a feeling. I'm being dragged there, too.

"Alright," he said after he hung up. "So, how do you want to kill the time for about two hours?"
"What's happening tonight?"
He grinned. "You'll see."
"Where the hell are you taking me?"
"Relax. You'll have fun. Besides, I told you I was kidnapping you today. Kidnappers don't usually tell you their plans, now do they?"
My response: "Mreh."

He laughed and put his phone in his pocket. "Come on, I'll take you out for ice cream."
"Trying to fatten me up, eh?"
"I- I can't even answer that. It's like asking me if those pants make your butt look big - it's a trap."
"Now that you mention it, do these-"
"LA LA LA! IT'S A TRAP IT'S A TRAP! LA LA LA!" He stuck his fingers in his ears and sang all the way downstairs. I laughed and ran to catch up with him.

He went to the kitchen and grabbed the broom and dustpan.

"Wow, you're actually gonna clean up the popcorn?" I asked while leaning against the wall.
He didn't answer, just threw a couch pillow at me and started sweeping up. The sun was still shining strong into the living room. Light hit his already golden hair and made it practically glow. His lip ring gleamed, drawing my attention to his lips.

It's weird. I mean, I know Wesley's attractive, but I still don't know if I would ever see him as someone I have a crush on.

His eyes were slightly closed. His lashes fluttered and a smile formed from his lips.

"Okay, mistress. Am I done with my tasks for today?"
"Nope, you still have to fool around with me in the toolshed before my husband gets back. And you did promise me ice cream."
"Is there any way to have sex while eating ice cream?"
"Why would I know that? Why would anyone know that?"
"Just because you've never done it doesn't mean no one else has tried."
"I'm picturing a fat chick doing it with the ice cream man in the back of his truck. Now I don't want ice cream anymore."
He cracked up laughing and dropped the broom to the floor. "You are nasty, chica." He was still chuckling as he put the broom and dustpan back in the kitchen.
"Blame my brain. I didn't tell it to think that."
"Well, no, our brains usually tell us what to do, not the other way around."
"True. So, since I've lost my appetite, what else do you want to do?"
He shrugged, then smiled slightly. "Wanna go to the home?"
I was surprised. He'd never invited me to the foster home before. "What for?"
"I don't know. Just to kill some time. I can give you a tour and we can hang out in my room."
"Well, okay, why not."

He smiled and grabbed my hand to pull me out the door. I grabbed a hoodie off the coat-rack at the last second, which thankfully already had my house-keys in it. I locked the door and followed him to his car.

His parents, well his foster parents, were extremely rich. His dad (Quintin) has his own company and his mom (Nadine) is an interior decorator. They have another son - their biological son - Rueben. He is twelve, and apparently a failure at life. At least that's what Wesley says. They are still technically Wesley's foster parents and they do give him an allowance that goes directly into a bank account that he can access, but besides that and occasionally going to church, they don't really acknowledge each others existence. Apparently, Wesley had a falling out with Quintin and Nadine, so they arranged for him to go back to the foster home until everyone was ready to work things out. He still hasn't explained the whole story to me yet.

I really don't know much else than that about Wesley. He isn't very open about his personal life, which is why I'm still surprised that he wants to show me his foster home all of a sudden.

He pointed at the radio knob, indicating that I was supposed to turn it on, and that he did not feel like talking right now. Actually no, his nervous habits told me that: his fingers tapping the steering wheel constantly, his gaze shifting from the road to me and back, his hands itching to mess up his hair as always. I didn't say anything. He only gets more nervous when he knows that I notice this.

We pulled up to the foster home. There was no formal driveway, so he parked near the front door, gravel crunching under the tires. It was a big red-brick house. There was no grass anywhere near it though, just dusty, gravelly dirt that was the color of sand. There was still a giant tree right by the side of the house though, which totally contradicted itself in this desert-like earth.

He turned off the car and unbuckled his seat belt. Then he looked at me with a look of total serious.

"Stay here." He even the hand motion, as if I was a dog.
"What?"
"Just stay here. I have to do some stuff first - I'll come back to get you."
"I am not staying in this hot car."
"Fine." He started the car, rolled down my windows, and turned the car back off. "Happy?"
"No."
He ignored me. "Stay. Please. Stay." He jumped out and ran inside.

Well, that was pointless. He knew I wouldn't listen to him.

I unbuckled my seatbelt and went inside. I didn't see where he went, but I did see a ton of kids and teens running through the halls. There were explosions sounds coming from a what I guess was the living room on my right. After hearing a bunch of male cheering, I figured someone was playing a video game. Two girls dressed like goths walked passed me and scoffed after looking at my clothes. Whatever bitches. Wesley wouldn't make me look like a fool. (Would he?)

I heard a crash and a thud upstairs, then footsteps running down the stairs. A black-haired boy whizzed past me and nearly knocked me down. Wesley followed close behind him but stopped when he saw me.

Wide-eyed, he ran his hands through his hair and groaned. "Damn it, I thought I told you to stay in the car-"
"What's the matter, Wesley? Scared you girlfriend'll dump you now that she sees the dump you live in?" The dark-haired boy teased in the most nonchalant manner.
Wesley growled and continued his chase after him. "Shut the fuck up, Zak! She's not even my girlfriend!" His voice trailed off as he rounded the corner.

Bewildered, I shook my head and decided to give myself a tour of the house. I ignored the noisy living room and looked around the rest of the first floor. First, when you come inside the house, the first thing you see is a sitting area with a circular couch under the windows and a coffee table covered with magazines. Then to the left are a few bedrooms and a bathroom and a closet, then further left is the kitchen. Once inside this huge kitchen, you can see a ginormous dining room connecting to it on the right.

Turning around to see the rest of the house, I ran into a slightly plump and rosy woman wearing an apron. She smiled at me, but she still seemed confused to see me.

"I don't recognize you, hon. Are you new here?"
How could she possibly remember all of the kids that live here? I've been here ten minutes and I've already lost count - and that's just on the first floor! "I-I'm not new. I mean, I don't live here. I came here with-"
"She's with me, Momma Trish." Wesley came up behind her, completely out of breath and bent over to his knees.
"I see. Did you ask permission to bring a guest?"
"No, ma'am. Sorry ma'am." He said between deep breaths.
"Child, why are you so out of breath? You're not that out of shape, are you?" She joked.
He smiled and shook his head. "No. Chasing Zak again."
"Oh, did you at least smack him this time?"
I looked at her with shock while Wesley just shook his head and stood up. "No. Request to kill him later?"
"Request denied. You should've got him before. I've got to make dinner for you kids, and I'm not letting food go to waste just because somebody died."

I was speechless. Wesley saw my expression and grinned. He came by my side and put an arm around me.

"This is Trisha Stewart, but everyone calls her Momma Trish. She runs the place."
"That's right." She wiped her hands on her apron and shook my hand. "Nice to meet you, hon. It's about time Wesley brought a girl home."
I looked at Wesley, who was glaring at Momma Trish. "Nice to meet you, Ms.-"
"Ah ah," She stopped me. "The boy told you what everyone calls me."
"Everyone?"
"Everyone."
"Um, nice to meet you, Momma Trish."
"That's better." She smiled. "Now, I still haven't learned your name, hon."
"Isalie."
"That is a gorgeous name, hon. Don't ever change it."
"Thank you." I smiled.
"Wesley, what is wrong with you, boy? Offer the girl some food."
"What? Oh I'm not-"
"Hon, I would be most offended if you did not at least taste my food. These kids here - they don't care about taste. They scarf down this food like it was their first meal in months. You'll give me your honest opinion though, right hon?"
I looked over at Wesley, who was already getting a plate out of the cabinet. Damn him. I was trapped. I nodded my head and Momma Trish squealed.
"Thank you, hon." Suddenly, shouting came from the living room. "Goddamnit. 'Cuse my language, hon. Gabriel, Duncan, if y'all don't stop fighting right this instant..." her voice drifted down the hallway.

Wesley was spooning out whatever was in the pot on the stove onto my plate. I sat at the counter. He put the plate in front of me and grabbed a fork out of the drawer in front of him and handed it to me. Honestly, the food didn't look bad - I just wasn't sure what it was. Wesley gave me no hints. He just watched me put a forkful of the steaming chunky concoction in my mouth.

"Okay, please tell me this is chicken. Because if it's something that tastes like chicken but isn't chicken, you know I'll be suspicious."
He chuckled. "It's jambalaya, and yes that's chicken. There's also sausage, tomato, green peppers, onion, and rice. Do you like it?"
"It's delicious! You had me scared - you didn't say anything!"
"The food speaks for itself. Now hush - she won't be happy until your plate is clean." He put another forkful into my mouth. I was too overcome with the foodgasm happening in my mouth to comment about him feeding me.

He laughed at my satisfied reaction as I welcomed my new favorite food. He watched me intently, not even having to look down at the plate. I closed my eyes and savored the food (I know I sound ridiculous obsessing over this, but you haven't tried this woman's cooking).

"You aren't gonna kiss her with food in her mouth, are you?"
I opened my eyes and saw Wesley leaning over the counter, nearly inches from my face. We both jumped back, and I almost fell off the chair.
"I'm gonna fucking KILL YOU, ZAK!!!" Wesley shouted.

I turned around and saw the black-haired boy from earlier. He had a weird smile - it wasn't a grin or a smirk, but it was definitely out of amusement. His hands were in his pockets as he strode over to my side.

"Hello, gorgeous. As you may have heard, the name's Zak, and yours?"
"Isalie. And yeah, I've heard a lot about you. No one seems to like you."
"I'm not surprised. They shouldn't like me. I'm really not a nice person."
"R-Really?"
He grinned. "I'd sell my own mother if she wasn't already doing it herself."
"Oh my god, are you-"
"Dude, what's with the chick? I mean really, if you aren't gonna bang her, then why'd you tell me to leave our room?"
"You share a room with him?" I asked Wesley.
"Unfortunately." He sighed.
"Hey now, don't get all upset. You love having me as your roommate!" Zak put an arm around him.
"You kick me out of the room almost every week so you can fool around with some girl, and when you aren't doing that, you're plotting ways to annoy me."
"Life's a dull bitch, man. You gotta liven it up somehow." He winked at me. I'm not sure how to respond to that. "Anyway, I guess I'm done pissing you off for today. If you really want the room then you can have it."
"What's the catch?" Wes raised an eyebrow.
"No catch. You stay on your side of the room, I stay on mine."
"Oh no. We can NOT all be in the same room at the same time!"
"But it's my room, little Lee-Lee-"
"Don't call me that-"
"-And you know Trish isn't gonna like you hogging the room-"
"But you do that all the time!-"
"I'm trying to be nice here. I won't bother you - you won't even know I'm there. And you guys are leaving in almost two hours anyway, right? See, little interaction today. Everyone is happy."
"I... I don't know. I don't trust you." Wes frowned.
"Oh just relax, Wes. It's not like we have to be alone."
He blushed. "I know that. I just can't stand being around him."
"This is as nice as I get, Lee-Lee. I'm only doing it because you have such a beautiful guest with you - so this offer won't come often."
I frowned at the obviously fake compliment. Wesley rolled his eyes and nodded. Zak grinned. "Alright then." And he winked at me again before heading to the stairs.

I bit my lip and shook my head. "Your enemy keeps hitting on me. It's creeping me out."
"That's why I didn't want you guys in the same room. I know he's hitting on you - he hits on every girl."
"But-"
"And it doesn't matter if you think you aren't a hot-enough target. Hot girls with low self-esteem is like taking candy from a baby in his eyes."
"But I'm not-"
"Isalie. If I didn't think that you were hot, then I wouldn't admit that Zak is actually skilled at something and say that he is good at picking up hot girls. You look good, and the outfit I picked out for you has nothing to do with it. Now since I know you'll fight me on any major compliment I give you, I am sticking with the phrase 'You look good', so from now on if you ask me that, I'll just say you look good and we can move on."
"But-"
He groaned and put my empty plate in the dishwasher before grabbing my hand and pulling me upstairs.
"We are gonna sit in my room and play cards and totally ignore Zak, then we're gonna go out tonight where I planned to take you and you are gonna enjoy yourself or else I swear I'll keep saying you look fucking gorgeous every time I look at you."
"Gah! Wesley, shut up!"

The sad part was that was an actual threat, and it really did have me nervous.

"Fine. We'll do things your way tonight." I sighed.
He looked at me, probably disappointed that I was so upset by all of this, but turned his gaze away from me as he brought me upstairs.

This is gonna be a long two hours.