How He Broke My Heart

ay? What made me li

ful. All I have is a party full of strangers and a shortbread cookie shaped as a heart. Now not everyone is a stranger—my mother and father are upstairs monitoring by sound—but I go to school with

ed bottle of tequila and a half-drunken bottle of vodka with a large pack of beers sit in the garage, and if anyone wants a drink they have to go in there and sip quietly. Marissa drank half of the vodka and is now flirting with her boyf

nother one. The pool lights are on, but no one is outside. It's not like it's cold or anything, it's June and beautiful

the few people in my p

he died last week from cancer—I didn't even know dogs got cancer (okay, that's a lie)—and now I'm just realizing my life hasn't been great. It's not b

e, but the town is nice. It's far better than this cesspool of hormones and two-faced text messages, so I plan on laying on the beach until I roast. So what? I think I'm better than everyone bu

dn't care enough to do anything about it. I don't have

lf-hatred kind of way, but a this-is-real-life kind of way. My mother would probably die for me, and my father is caring, but besides them, no

ents if he fires me, my future ex-husband doesn't care what I do when he has a young piece of meat to screw, and

some reason, I act as if no one can see me anymore. There's crickets, cars in the

re. It's not easy being a pess

crumbs on my shirt and an ugly temporary tattoo of a bird on my thigh that I hop

ws. Marissa flocks to the glass and presses up against it. I hear her

ng when it's obvious. A person can't kill themselves on purpose in a pool by jumping in unless they purposely

pool like a normal person, well,

ool and nearly took me to the hospital. After convincing them that I'm fine, they found the alc

use, and the entire ride there I think about how stupid they are.

think that I died. Would I care if they thought I was dead? Is that a dark thought or just a whiny-teenage-girl thought? I wonder if our doorstep will be cluttered with dead flowers wh

ach the town. It's like some heaven on earth. No one is on their phones, everyone is enjoying their company and the scenery. The beach is close enough to chuck a rock into the wa

e guest bedroom at the beach house has shells everywhere from years of vacations here. My Aunt

der than me, so the fact that he liked me made me feel extra pretty. I didn't know much back then, nearly nothing about real romance and how much it sucks. The idea of having a boyfriend was sim

boys that make a girl want t

fifteen, it was my first time venturing to the boulders, and I had only gone because he said he was going to be there. Like its name, the place is just full of boulders, and no one really knows how they got there,

t summer, and there's a lot that came

d to my bedroom and forget about everyone. It smells the same. That salty, rustic, wooden smell that makes my heart feel light in my chest. I place my suitcase down by the door and wander in. There are the

to run into it. My parents and my Aunts voices play over and over again in the background as I walk to the window, getting

pen the door and fall to my knees, scanning the bottom of the wall for my carvi

, Milo Talker,

like they're born with the formula embedded in their brains. Girls are hopeless, though. It can't be all the boy's fault. It takes two to rui

forever alone.' Every girl has said it at least once, even if it was a joke or

e keep trying to get more. Girls have always been a generation of drug-addicts, and the drug is boys. The difference between girls and boys is that girls revolve their lives around one drug. They're completely sat

rought me to my lowest point and

in and finds me standing awkwardly in the middle of the room. "Oh, hi. I just wanted t

o to the shop

My mother believes I'm a good person deep down. She knows I've done stupid things,

p, and when I arrive, I take a minute to lean over the sea wall and look down. The tide is making its way back in, and by night the wa

ear container sitting on the counter beside the cash register. It's full of small keychains. Some are surfboards, some are flip flop

I'm glad y

he back room. "Yeah, I just stopped by t

sked to work here, right? Well, it's finally time. I won't have you on the heat press, but you'll help people find a shirt or hoodie they like and the transfer design they want. Just walk around, greet people as they come in, ask if they need help, grab the transf

What time shou

lly open later on weekdays. By n

ign on it. Sally thinks it's weird of me to only want the sunset design, but she began to like me for it. Even now when I look up at the wall—where all the designs ar

e at twelve then.

t," Sally calls a