Shattered by Sarah N. Harvey

Chapter One
    It was close to midnight by the time I got to the end-of-the-year party at Brad Bingham’s place. I had to work late. And then Mom and I argued about me using her car. I won, but barely. She wanted me to promise not to drink. I negotiated her down to a single beer. Like she’d ever know. From down the block I could see the multicolored Christmas lights the Binghams leave up year-round to light up the backyard and deck. A mindless techno dance mix was blasting out of huge speakers balanced on the living-room windowsills. It was warm for June—hurray for global warming. Most of the guys, and some of the girls, would no doubt already be topless. Brad’s parents weren’t home. If they had been, they would have been out with the dancers on the lawn. Forming a conga line and passing around a doobie. All of us envy Brad his parents.
    I slipped in the side gate and onto the back deck, where the hot tub is. Tyler loves the hot tub. So do I. I had my bikini on under my sundress. I pulled the dress over my head, kicked off my flip-flops and stepped into the light. That’s when I saw a slutty tenth grader named Kayla writhing on my boyfriend’s lap in the hot tub. She was naked and so was he. His red board shorts were in a damp heap on the deck, next to her string bikini and an empty vodka bottle. The lights—red, green, yellow, blue—shone on their wet skin. Tyler’s eyes were closed, his neck arched. A small moan escaped his parted lips. Kayla’s back was to me. I always thought it was bullshit when people said they got weak in the knees. I was wrong. I wasn’t just weak in the knees. It felt as if every joint in my body had turned to water. I put a hand out and steadied myself against the fence. I considered picking up the bottle and smacking Kayla upside the head with it. Instead, I took a deep breath, perched on the edge of the hot tub and said, “Hey, guys. Having fun?”
    Tyler’s eyes flew open, and he shoved Kayla off his lap. She disappeared for a moment under the hot tub’s foaming bubbles. For a second, I thought about holding her under. Not long enough to kill her. I’m not insane. When she surfaced, she tried, without success, to cover her breasts and hairless crotch with her small hands. Her nail polish was silver. Tyler, ever the gentleman, tossed her a towel. As she wrapped it around herself, she turned to me and snarled, “So much for your perfect life, bitch,” before she ran, dripping, toward the house. She cheats with my boyfriend and I’m the bitch? I picked up the bottle and threw it after her, but she was already inside. The bottle exploded when it hit the back door.
    Tyler made a grab for his shorts, but I was way ahead of him. I picked them up and tossed them over the fence into the next yard.
    â€œNot cool,” I said. My hands were shaking and my feet felt numb. “Not cool at all. We’re done, Tyler. Don’t call. Don’t text. Don’t come to my house.”
    Tyler crouched in the hot tub, begging. “Don’t go, March, baby. Let’s talk about it.”
    I shook my head. I wanted to leave, but I couldn’t move. Tyler climbed out of the hot tub and wrapped a towel around his waist. I noticed that his nipples were erect. I thought about how the last tongue on those nipples had not been mine. The sushi I had snacked on at work rose in my throat. I swallowed hard as he took a step toward me, whining, “She brought vodka. You know what vodka does to me, babe. It didn’t mean anything.”
    I kept shaking my head. Tyler and I had been friends since third grade and going out since we were thirteen. Four years. Neither of us has had sex with anyone else. Or so I thought. Now our relationship was as shattered as the bottle I had thrown at Kayla.
    I put my hands up in front of me as Tyler approached. Isn’t raising your hands, palms out, the universal symbol for “back