Breaking Glass by Lisa Amowitz Page B

hours.
    But there’s no answer.
    Just the faintest wisp of vanilla perfume.

C H A P T E R
t e n
    Now
    I clump back to Dad’s study, fling myself onto the bed, and drop into sleep…
    …and wake, the windowpanes framing solid squares of ink-black night. The bedside light is on, and all too quickly I realize what woke me.
    Pain spirals up my phantom shin, coils around my absent thigh, and explodes at the stump. I reach for the Vicodin, pop three in my mouth, and settle back on the pillow. Gradually, my body cools. The pain ebbs. I drift, barely registering the feather-light touch that brushes my cheek.
    Jeremy .
    “Dad?” I murmur, peering through slitted lids.
    My eyes snap open and I sit up. There’s a static charge pulsing in the room like the air right before lightning touches ground. My scalp tingles, but there’s nothing to see.
    I search the room’s shadows for some kind of a sign, unsure of what I’m looking for—or if I want to find out.
    “Suze?”
    The room prickles with silence. I want to run. My heart skips as the dark waters close in. I struggle to breathe.
    If Susannah really is here then my worst fear is true.
    She’s dead.
    And I’ve called her back.

    “Jeremy? You okay?” It’s my dad. “I thought I heard you call out.”
    I swallow hard, my eyes squeezed shut. “Yeah,” I grunt.
    I hear his light step. I feel his gaze on me. “You sure? The doctors said the healing process would be tough.”
    “I took some meds. I’ll be okay.” I manage to pry my eyes open.
    He’s looking at me doubtfully. “Try to get some rest. And I hope you’re being careful with the Vicodin. You seem to be going through them a little too quickly. I have Marisa coming to see you in the morning, after your physical therapy session.”
    He turns to leave. I almost call out and ask him to stay, but with the pain pleasantly snuffed I settle under the blankets, finally comfortable.
    Then
    The second time Susannah ran away was in the third week of sophomore year, after a very public fight between her and Ryan.
    It was right outside the school building. Ryan held Susannah while she flailed wildly. Sobbing, she broke free and smacked him hard in the face, then ran away like a madwoman. Ryan gave chase and, overcoming her easily, tackled her to the grass. With everyone watching, they lay that way for about fifteen minutes until Susannah stopped struggling. Finally, Ryan got up and walked away, leaving Susannah lying face-down on the schoolyard lawn.
    I considered approaching her, but decided against it. The temptation to drape myself on top of her and cover her with gentle kisses was too strong.
    That time, Susannah was gone for an entire week. After two days of sulking around, Ryan showed up on my doorstep at one in the morning, totally out of his mind drunk.
    I was drunk, too, like I was pretty much was every night, but that was easy enough to hide from someone who was more dead drunk than me. Ryan never held his liquor as well. Especially at fifteen.
    I ushered him into the living room and plopped him on my couch.
    “She’s too good for me,” he blubbered, his face in his hands. “It’s my fault she’s gone. Last week I ended up backstage with Tania Davis.”
    My hands curled into fists, but I kept my tone even. How could he steal her out from under me, and then just throw her away? “Whoa, dude. Why and how?”
    “I don’t know. I swear. Things got carried away after rehearsal. Tania came on strong. I guess she caught me at a vulnerable moment. It just happened. We were talking, and then we were all over each other. I felt so bad I told Suze. She didn’t take it so well.”
    “So I noticed.”
    Ryan looked up, eyes glistening on his tear-streaked face, the soul of misery. Even if his wound was self-inflicted, I couldn’t help but feel his pain. There was no way she was going to run into my arms.
    “Will you talk to her?” Ryan asked.
    “Why? You think I can hypnotize her into forgiving you?”
    Ryan