Free Queen of Broken Hearts by Jennifer Recchio

escaped my mouth before I thought them through.
    Had I really lost everything? I thought of Annabelle, saying she’d missed me. My mother holding my hand. Pak, trying to help me after everything I’d done to him. Sam, trying to love me with all my broken bits making a mess of things. I blinked tears out of my eyes.
    “Birdie?” Mrs. Larue whispered, waving a hand at the cameras.
    “I’m an idiot,” I told the entire population of Hollywood Hills High School. Skittle made a choking sound beside me. “I’ve made mistake after mistake while everyone who mattered stood beside me, and I was too preoccupied to notice.” I stood up. “I’m sorry. For everything. I’m sorry. I have somewhere to be.”
    I walked out of the studio, peace settling over me for the first time… ever. I knew exactly where I needed to be.
    “Birdie!” Skittle’s shrill voice called after me. “What was that? Some sort of power play? It won’t work. No one is going to vote for you.”
    I turned around. Skittle wasn’t wearing her dress as much as it was wearing her. She’d gotten scary thin since I’d taken her under my not-so-nurturing wing, and I hadn’t even noticed. Her eyes belonged to a frightened animal.
    “I really am sorry,” I whispered, just loud enough for her to hear.
    Her face went red. “You bitch . Do you think you can just get away with this?”
    “No.” I smiled. Maybe this was what going mad felt like. “I really don’t.” I walked away.

    It took me five minutes of aimless walking to realize I had no idea where Sam’s school was. Or if the game was even at the school. I ended up sitting on a park bench with no real idea what to do next. I pulled out my phone. This was silly. I’d just call Sam and ask him where his stupid game was.
    The phone rang three times before it was cut off. He’d hung up on me. Well. It wasn’t like I didn’t deserve it. My finger found number four on my speed dial. I held my breath as the phone rang once, twice. Click.
    “What?”
    “Pak?”
    “ Birdie ?”
    “What, am I not in your contacts anymore?” I said, only half joking.
    His silence was answer enough.
    “I need help.” I didn’t let myself think about the words. If I started thinking, it would all fall apart.
    “True. And?”
    I licked my lips. “I need your help. Finding out where the Abernathy High School mathletes’ competition is.”
    Pak’s breath crackled over the phone. “That… has got to be the weirdest series of words I’ve ever heard come out of your mouth.”
    I couldn’t help it. I laughed. I laughed until my sides ached and I started to sob right there in the middle of Boulevard Park.
    “Hey,” he said. I clutched my phone like it was the end of a very short rope. “I’ll figure it out and call you back. How do you spell that school name?”
    I spelled it out for him, then hung up. People were staring at me. I gave them a small wave. I could see the headlines now: Birdie Anders arrested for public display of emotion . My mother would kill me.
    My mother. I squeezed my eyes shut against the thought. One mess at a time.
    Pak called back to tell me it was being held at the library on Fifth. “Have you ever been to a library?” he asked.
    “Maybe. Once.”
    “Uh huh. Remember, books are for read -ing. Not kindling. They won’t like that much.”
    “Wait. Pak?” The lion might eat you for pulling the thorn out of its paw, but that doesn’t mean the thing isn’t worth doing. Right? I gathered up my pride and let it go. “Thank you.”
    “Well, you know how it is. Damsel in distress, knight in shining armor.” He paused. “And Birdie? Good luck. With whatever it is you think you’re doing.”
    I stared at my phone for a minute after he hung up. I’d be the first to admit I’m better at burning bridges then mending them, but the feeling rising in my chest felt vaguely like hope.

    The library on Fifth wasn’t anything like what I imagined libraries were supposed to look like. It