Broken

Chapter 18

Chapter 18

I felt my stomach do handsprings as I walked inside the opera house. The week had flown by much faster than expected. Especially considering how slowly each individual day had dragged along. Most of my waking hours had been spent wondering if Saturday night was ever going to arrive.

My train of thought shattered as I got my first glimpse of the interior of what'd become my own personal mecca. The exterior of the building had been impressive, complete with statues and sculptures reminiscent of an eighteenth century opera house, but somehow I hadn't expected the illusion to hold once I passed through the enormous, gilded doors.

I'd been wrong. The floors were a gorgeous marble which somehow drew the eyes to the nearest golden-white wall, and up the elaborate gilded trim towards vaulted ceilings. It was like walking into a palace, complete with painted, spun-sugar clouds, and burgundy drapes made out of rich velvet.

If it wasn't for the press of people pushing me from behind, I probably would've stayed in the front entryway right up until the sound of the orchestra filtered down to me. As it was, I only got a few hurried looks before being rushed along with the rest of the students.

Seeing all of my classmates looking utterly bored as they allowed themselves to be herded through the most amazing building I'd ever seen, brought me back to my original train of thought.

I hadn't actually spent every waking moment thinking about Les Misérables. A fair amount of those seconds had been spent with Brandon. He'd already been picking me up from school every morning and dropping me off most days. We now spent every lunch together, and he'd started lingering when he dropped me off. It was still only on the days when mom wasn't home, and I hadn't quite mustered the guts to invite him in, but it'd still been really nice.

Of course it'd been the logical kind of thing to have start happening after someone asked you to the Ashure Day Dance. It was still so amazing someone like Brandon had asked me to go to a dance that half the time I forgot all about it. The other half of the time I had a hard time believing it'd really happened. But it had, and there were more than four-dozen roses scattered around our kitchen to prove it.

Predictably, Brandon didn't do anything halfway. I'd gone to school on Tuesday after receiving his amazing, 'anonymous' gift the day before, only to be ambushed at lunch. I'd been anxiously waiting for him at his normal table when a pair of employees from the local florist had walked in, their arms overflowing with roses. I'd been expecting them to stop in front of Jasmin. Instead they'd passed her up and then declined to make a beeline to Cassie either. When they'd started handing the flowers to me, I'd tried to convince them there'd been some kind of mistake.

The sound of 'One day more' playing on the cell phone nestled in the closest bouquet had been what finally convinced me it was all meant for me. Brandon's voice had been like silk caressing my face when I'd answered the phone.

One minute I was minding my own business trying to pretend like I didn't notice the nasty looks some of Brandon's friends were shooting my way when they thought I wasn't looking, the next I was going to the biggest dance of the year with the most popular guy in school. I'd half thought Cassie was going to rip out my throat.

I walked past a pair of gorgeous, gold-fringed drapes, handed my ticket to a distinguished-looking man in a uniform, and then smiled as he pointed me towards my door.

It was almost a relief to be around strangers again. He'd been polite, but hadn't tried to fawn on me. My being asked out had changed my treatment from almost every girl at school. Half the student body, the more sensible portion it seemed, had all decided that I was some kind of massively stuck-up slut. The other half had decided they needed to be my new best friend if they wanted to get invited to any of the 'cool' parties ever again.