The Way Back from Broken Read Online Free PDF Page B

at the far end of the basement. Molly was already there, curled around her sketchbook. She didn’t need Keri handing out assignments. She was always drawing.
    â€œHey you,” she said, sweeping her hair out of her face and leaving a gray smudge of charcoal on her forehead. “How’s tricks?”
    â€œTricky, I guess.” He sat beside her and caught a whiff of strawberries. “Whatchya drawing?”
    She held out the sketch pad.
    A warped network of metal bars sprang directly from a meadow. Rakmen could practically feel the breeze whispering through the blades of tall grass. They rolled in gray-shaded waves across the paper. Amid all that rustling and growing, the cage Molly had drawn was fixed and immobile. He leaned closer, charcoal dust tickling his nose. The wind had pinned a moth inside the cage, pressing its tiny body against the bars.
    â€œWhoa,” he said. “It’s really good but kinda scary.”
    Molly ducked her head, smiling. “I knew you’d get it, but don’t tell my mom.”
    â€œYour secret’s safe,” said Rakmen, giving his shirt collar a tug, “but I don’t think this is exactly what Keri had in mind with her little assignment.”
    â€œTell me about it,” Molly groaned. “I started with the meadow because I was thinking about how when I’m sad I like to walk in the arboretum near my house. But my parents won’t let me go alone and then—poof—before I knew it I was drawing bars. Freud would have a field day with me.”
    Rakmen raised an eyebrow, stroked a pretend goatee, and in a wretched German accent said, “Tell me about your mother.”
    He’d meant to make her laugh, but instead her face fell, and she touched the scar on her temple. Her lower lip trembled, and scent of strawberry lip gloss wafted over him. Juan and the guys would ride him hard about that lip.
    â€œThere’s this new girl at school who I’ve gotten to know,” said Molly. “She’s really nice.” Rakmen watched her darken the shadows of the cage. “She was at my house yesterday, and we were talking about going to the Rose Festival Fun Center. My mom totally butted in and started going on about some girl who got decapitated on a roller coaster and another who was raped by a carnie and how the Rose Festival brings in all the meth heads from the east side . . . ”
    Molly’s drawing pencil dug into the soft paper.
    Rakmen laid his hand over hers. “You’re going to ruin it.”
    She shrugged. “It’s already ruined.”
    Rakmen wanted to say I’m sorry and you’re right and that sucks all at the same time. He tried to smile in a way that said those things but probably looked like he had gas. He suddenly wanted to kiss the center of the scar that was not her fault. Instead, he pulled his hand away.
    â€œShe said we could go to the movies,” said Molly, “as long as she drove and sat in the back of the theater. I could tell my friend thought she was totally creepy. I mean, who does that?”
    â€œDads afraid of boyfriends?”
    â€œI know.” Molly flopped back against the couch, face tilted to the ceiling.
    Rakmen stared at the pulse in her neck. He wanted to catch it and hold it in his cupped hands. It would flutter there like a moth. He tore his eyes away from Molly and pulled out his notebook. Cages. Carnies. One single moment is enough to change everything.
    â€œHey.” Jacey appeared in front of them, sucking furiously on a lock of hair. Without waiting for an invitation, she wormed her way between him and Molly on the couch. “Look at this,” she said, patting the scrapbook she held in her lap. “Keri says it’s a yearbook for dead babies.”
    Rakmen tried to prod her off the couch, but Molly scowled at him over Jacey’s head, and he edged over to make space.
    â€œIt’s a memory book, not a year book,”