Pieces That Fit Together

Valerie

After dropping Jess off at her house, I arrived home to the warm, sugary scent of cookies wafting through the air. It hit me when I walked through the door, making my stomach rumble despite the pasta I'd already planned to reheat.

I headed toward the kitchen and found my younger brother standing by the oven, wearing oversized oven mitts that looked comically out of place on his lanky arms. He was peering intently through the oven door as if watching whatever was inside rise to perfection.

"What are you making?" I asked, heading straight to the fridge to grab my leftovers.

"Mint chocolate chip cookies," he replied without looking away from his creation, his tone casual, like this was a completely normal hobby for a fourteen-year-old boy.

"Save me two," I said as I popped my pasta into the microwave and took a seat at the glass dining table. "Where's Mom and Dad?"

"They went to the store about fifteen minutes ago. Why?" He finally looked up, his eyebrows raised in mild curiosity.

"Mr. Leon and Mrs. Daniels are throwing an after-party for Damon's hockey game in two weeks. They invited us," I said, watching his reaction.

His face scrunched up in disbelief. "And we're going? Didn't he, I don't know, break up with you?"

"We're on a temporary break," I corrected him, keeping my tone even. "And I doubt Mom would decline just because of something so petty." Besides, it's not like I had exactly told my parents the truth About the breakup.

The oven timer went off with a cheerful beep, cutting through the conversation.

"Well, if it were me, I wouldn't go," he said, slipping on his mitts again to pull the tray of cookies out of the oven.

"You're fourteen. You wouldn't understand," I replied, taking a bite of my now-heated pasta.

"Now, grab your cookies before they burn."

"Uh-huh," he said with a shrug, pulling the tray out of the oven.

He transferred a few cookies onto a paper towel. The rich, minty aroma filled the room.

"They're done," he announced, setting the tray on the stovetop to cool. "Make sure you save some for Mom and Dad. I'll be in my room if you need me."

"Alright," I said, watching as he disappeared down the hall with his paper towel full of cookies.

Left alone in the quiet kitchen, I tapped my fork against the edge of my plate, my mind already spinning with ideas for how I'd make the most of that party. If Damon thought I was going to sit back and let him off easy, he clearly didn't know me well enough.

***

I sat cross-legged on my bed, lazily snacking on cookies as my phone screen lit up with notifications I wasn't in the mood to read. The faint sound of the front door opening echoed through the house, signaling my parents had finally returned. I stayed where I was, scrolling aimlessly until a knock at the door broke the quiet.

"Come in," I said, barely glancing up.

It was Mom. She peeked in, her hair slightly tousled and her purse still slung over her shoulder. "Hey, I'm making dinner. Any requests?"

"Tacos sound fine," I replied, setting my phone down for a moment.

"Got it." She was about to leave when I casually added, "Oh, by the way, the Blackwells invited us over in two weeks. Some party after a hockey game or whatever." I played it off like it was no big deal, though I was well aware of the details.

Her face lit up. "Did they? Perfect. Let them know we'll be there."

"Sure thing."

She left, shutting the door softly behind her. I exhaled, leaning back against the headboard for a moment before pushing myself off the bed.

I wandered over to my vanity and sat down, the sleek white chair creaking faintly beneath me. My reflection stared back, tired and unimpressed. My black hair framed my face, falling just past my shoulders, and my grayish eyes—usually sharp—seemed a little duller from lack of sleep. The faint bags under my eyes told their own story, but nothing a little concealer wouldn't fix.

I opened a drawer, pulled out a tube of lip gloss, and swiped it across my lips with practiced ease. Once satisfied, I tossed it back and stood, grabbing my phone and keys off the bed. I needed to get out for a bit and clear my head.

***

A Few Days Later

School dragged on like it always did, but the upcoming party consumed my thoughts. I'd spent the last few days plotting, running through options.

Option A: Sabotage Damon's game. Sure, it wouldn't win him back, but it'd feel satisfying.

Option B: Blackmail him into getting back together. It would get the job done but I'd save it for a last resort.

Option C: Be nice to him... Yeah, no. That was humiliating and beneath me.

Option D: Use someone he hates to my advantage. Damon had plenty of enemies, and luckily for me, I wasn't above exploiting that.

I had my outfit planned down to the last detail. All that was left was putting the pieces of my plan into place. I continued walking, heading for the library.

***

The library was quiet, the kind of peaceful atmosphere I needed to focus on. I settled at a table near the back, pulling out my laptop and notebook. For a while, I lost myself in my notes, the sound of my pen scratching against the paper almost soothing.

Until it wasn't.

The chair across from me scraped loudly against the floor, yanking me out of my concentration. I glanced up to see Rachel sitting down, her perfectly straightened blonde hair shining under the fluorescent lights. Her brown eyes fixed on me with a mix of curiosity and amusement.

"Hm," she said, a smirk tugging at her lips. "Didn't expect to see you here."

I leaned back in my chair, arching a brow. "What do you want, Chelsea?" I asked, purposefully using the wrong name.

She bristled, her smirk faltering for just a second. "It's Rachel," she snapped, before quickly recovering. "And I just wanted to check in on you. Damon mentioned what happened between you two. Must be tough, getting dumped like that."

My jaw clenched, but I kept my expression neutral. "We're on a break," I said smoothly, picking up my pen again. "So don't feel too bad for me."

She chuckled softly, clearly enjoying herself. "That's cute. Really. Well, I was just saying that he's moved on and maybe you did the same. If you ever need to talk, you know where to find me." Her voice dripped with fake sympathy, and it was infuriating.

"Feel free to fall in a ditch," I replied, not bothering to look up.

Her laughter followed her as she stood and walked away, leaving me alone with my notes and my simmering irritation.

Rachel was a nuisance, plain and simple. I didn't trust people who hid behind fake smiles. I preferred the ones who were upfront about their disdain—it was easier to deal with. At least they didn't pretend to care.