Best Kind of Broken

39 Pixie

Pouring rain doesn’t make for a great fireworks show, but it sure as hell makes for a happy group of drunk people.

Some of them are even swimming in the lake. Morons.

I can’t believe I just snapped at Levi like that, but a part of me feels a little lighter because of it. I didn’t realize how truly angry I was with him until just now. And I’m pissed. And hurt. But mostly pissed.

Desperate to get away, far away, from Levi and all the rage and brokenness inside me, but not in the mood to get drenched or, you know, struck by lightning, I look around for shelter.

“Sarah!” Daren’s voice calls from where our friends are still gathered by the bonfire. “Where did you go? You missed the fireworks!”

I don’t know how he thinks I could have possibly “missed” the giant pyrotechnics show in the sky thirty seconds ago. Clearly, he’s not sober. But his voice reminds me that his car is parked nearby, so that’s where I head, careful to ignore his distant pleas for me to return to all the fireworks/lightning/rainstorm fun.

I let myself into the passenger side of his car and shut the door so rain isn’t pouring on me. Then I get out my phone to text Ellen to come pick me up.

Before I can press Send, Daren jumps into the driver’s seat with a giant smile on his face.

“Sarah!” He cheers. “I caught up with you!”

Yay.

“Whatcha doing in my car?”

“Temporary shelter,” I say. “I think I’m going to head home. I’m tired.”

“No!” His protest is very dramatic, and I know he’s wasted. “Stay with me a little while longer.”

I shake my head. “I’m tired. I want to go home.”

“Nope. You’re staying with me.” He smiles and closes his door, shutting himself inside with me.

The smell of liquor invades my nostrils, and now I’m annoyed. “I’m just not feeling it tonight, Daren. Sorry.”

He ignores me and starts to ramble. “It’s weird being here, right? I mean, last year I was here. And you were here. And so was Charity. We were all here. And now you and I are here again. But not Charity.” He stares out the windshield. “It’s weird being here.”

I exhale, feeling his pain. “Yeah. Charity being gone is tough, but it’ll… it’ll get easier. It has to.”

Right?

He nods.

I bite my lip, wanting to leave so I can be pissed at Levi in private. “So… I’m pretty spent. I think I’m just going to take off—”

“Old Man Turner died yesterday,” he says quietly, his glazed brown eyes still staring out the window.

I suck in a short breath.

Well, that explains all the excessive drinking and sadness rolling off Daren in waves. For a moment, I have no words as I watch Daren’s profile. I know Mr. Turner was like a father to him. Or at least like an uncle.

“Daren, I… I’m so sorry.” I press my lips together.

He blinks a few times and then turns to me with another forced smile. “No worries. I barely knew the guy.” His bloodshot eyes brighten. “You know what we need to do? Party. Yes.” He nods to himself. “We need to go party.” He pulls his car keys from the pocket of his board shorts, puts them in the ignition, and starts the engine.

My palms start to sweat. “What are you doing?”

The panic in my voice is evident and, yeah, maybe I’m a bit of a drama queen when it comes to the whole drunk-driving thing, but seriously?

“Calm down.” He gives me a lopsided grin. “We’re not going far. Just to Shannon’s house.”

Shannon… Shannon… Who’s Shannon?

“I don’t want to go to Shannon’s house,” I say and try to open the passenger door. Stupid childproof locks. “Let me out.”

“Why? We’re not there yet, silly.” He’s still smiling, and I realize he’s drunker than I thought. Drunk Daren—even super-drunk Daren—would never lock me in a car with him when he was drinking. He knows my story. Hell, he was in it.

But this isn’t run-of-the-mill-drunk Daren. This is mega-drunk Daren, and now I’m freaking out.

I play with the door handle again. “Open the damn door, Daren.”

He rolls down the driver’s side window and calls out to a group of people who are leaving the lake. “Sarah and I will meet you guys at Shannon’s, okay?”

“No, we won’t!” I yell out his window as droplets of rain splash into the car. Then I look at Daren. “There’s no way in hell I’m going to let you drive drunk. If we’re going anywhere, I’m driving.”

I shift out of my seat and try to take the keys from the ignition.

He covers them with his hand like this is some giant joke. “Um, I don’t think so? Do you know what kind of car this is? A Porsche. Which means it needs to be driven by a professional. And besides, we both know you can’t drive a stick.” He laughs. “At least not this kind of stick. Calm down,” he says as I swat at his freakishly strong grip on the keys. “I got this.”

“No. You got drunk.” My heart starts to pound. “Let me drive.”

“No.”

“Then let me out right now.”

He starts fumbling with the gears until we’re in reverse.

Oh God.

“Ellen is going to pick me up. Let me out!” With Daren’s window rolled down, people can hear me yelling and some of them are staring now.

He backs the car up. “Tell Ellen you’ll be at Shannon’s.” He puts the car in drive and slowly pulls forward.

“No! Stop the car.” The pounding in my chest grows violent. “Stop the car!”

The car stops, but not because of my protests.

Levi is in front of us and has just thrown his hands on the hood, making an outrageously loud sound echo through the car.

“What the hell?” Daren puts the car in park and leans his head out the window. “Levi?” He smiles drunkenly. “I didn’t know you were here. Are you going to Shannon’s too?”

Levi looks pissed as he comes around to Daren’s window. He glances at me, then at Daren. “Why was Pixie just asking you to stop the car?”

He waves it off. “Ah, you know. She wants to drive the Porsche.” He rolls his eyes. “Girls always want to drive the Porsche.”

Levi leans back from his breath. “You’re drunk.”

“I am?” He laughs and slurs out, “Are you sure? Because sometimes my laid-back nature comes across as a lack of sobriety, but I assure you—assure you?” He laughs again. “That sounds funny in my mouth. Assure you. Assure—”

“Let Pixie out of the car.”

He points a wobbly finger at Levi and squints. “No, man. She’s not yours.”

“Well, she sure as hell isn’t yours.”

“I’m not anybody’s! God!” I say, angry and scared and just over the whole stupid thing. “Just let me out of the car, Daren.”

He turns to me. “Quit bitching, Sarah.”

And then Daren’s not in the car anymore.

Levi has him by the neck and has just dragged him out of the window and around the car.

Holy hell. Things are about to get real.

Daren’s body makes a hollow sound as Levi throws him against the hood and pins his throat.

Frozen in the passenger seat, I’m just staring through the rain-dotted windshield, while everyone in the parking lot waits for the whole Batman scene to unfold.

Daren tries to pry Levi’s hand from his throat, but Levi holds tight, his body rigid and giant. It’s been so long since I’ve seen Levi next to any guy who wasn’t a football player that I forgot just how big he is. Daren doesn’t stand a chance.

“Three things, asshole,” Levi says casually, like yanking a guy out of a car window is an everyday occurrence for him. “One.” He looks at Daren calmly. “Don’t drink and drive. That’s fucking retarded.”

Daren’s gasping.

“Two.” Levi stretches his neck. “When a girl says no—to anything—that means no.”

Daren smacks at Levi’s strong arm.

“And three.” Levi leans down and puts his face frighteningly close to Daren’s and lowers his voice. “Pixie’s. Not. Yours. And if I ever hear you speak to her like that again, I will yank the tongue out of your throat.”

With one last shove, Levi releases Daren and straightens his shoulders.

Daren starts coughing and hacking.

I’m speechless.

Without looking at me, Levi opens the driver’s door and waits. I scramble across the console and climb out, fully aware that everyone in the parking area is staring at us.

I’m still angry with him, but I follow him through the drizzle anyway. Because this is Levi. This is my hero. And you always follow your heroes, even when you’re mad, even when you’d rather punch them in the mouth. That’s how trust works. It’s blind and unconditional and it takes you places you can’t reach by yourself.

Just like love.

My heart squeezes and I drop my eyes to the wet pavement as we walk along. We don’t stay a word to each other as we cross the remainder of the parking lot and get in his truck.

I buckle my seat belt and stare at the dashboard.

“Where’s your friend Jenna?” he asks, putting on his own seat belt.

“She left already.” I clear my throat. “Where’s Zack?”

“He went home with Sierra Umbridge.”

I nod, and that’s the end of our conversation. He starts the engine and we pull away from the lake.

Rain beats down on the windshield, pattering in a peaceful way interrupted only by the rhythmic swiping of the wiper blades as we drive along.

Why does rain always look so sad but sound so peaceful?

I prop a foot up on his dashboard like I used to do when life was still good, and my paint-stained shoe reminds me of the first time I ever rode in this truck.

Levi picked me and Charity up from school, and we felt like rock stars, climbing into her big bro’s big truck. He was so proud of getting his license. So sure of himself and happy. It’s a beautiful thing, Levi happy.

My last class of the day was art, and I had paint on my shoes. When I climbed in, I accidentally left a blue shoe print on the floorboard of his new truck, and Levi was pissed.

I felt super bad, but I totally laughed at his attempt at anger. He was awful at staying mad at me. I took my shoes off and held them in my lap the whole ride home, my bare feet feeling oddly intimate against the soft floorboard beneath me.

It seems like a lifetime ago.

The wipers cut across the windshield again and I look down at my feet. The blue shoe print is still there. It’s a little faded by time and dirt, but I can still see it. A reminder of me.

I reach down and trace a finger across the brightest splotch of blue. It’s a gross floorboard and completely grimy, but I can’t help myself.

We stop at a red light, and I can feel Levi’s eyes on me as I stroke the blue stain. He probably thinks I’m crazy. Maybe I am.

Why didn’t he just get new floor mats?

I sit back up and chance a glance at him. The red stoplight glows into the cab as we stare at each other, listening to the sound of rain falling on the windshield. Constant. Steady.

Red turns to green and our eyes pull apart.