Breaking Bailey Read online

  So when I ask him how it’s possible that he does all that he does, I guess I know how. He doesn’t really see any other choice.

  We were quiet for a while on the way home. I kept replaying the things he’d said over and over in my head, trying to grasp the scope of it all, how shaped Warren was by his brother’s choices and by his family. But as I was sitting there, trying to comprehend everything Warren had to go through and everything he’s still dealing with, Warren started asking me about Mom. Not asking me about her death or how much I missed her or anything, but just MOM in general. What she was like. What was my favorite thing about her. And I found myself smiling, remembering things I hadn’t let myself think about in a while and telling Warren all about them. He was smiling too, laughing along with me at my stories, and I realized: I’d never felt so close to him. Our pasts tied us together somehow, two scarred people just trying to keep going. I admire him so much for that ability to go on, and my heart breaks for him, for how hard he works to be noticed. He’s really amazing, and I think . . . I think I’m in love with him.

  At that moment I decided I didn’t want to wait any longer. I squeezed his hand and told him so.

  Warren: You mean . . . ?

  Me: Yes.

  Warren: You’re sure?

  Me: I’m sure.

  Warren: Because if you’re not . . .

  Me: Warren. I’m sure. I know you’re all about finding that perfect moment. I think this is it.

  So we went back to his dorm.

  That’s all I can write right now. I’m finally back in my room, and . . . well, I need to get some sleep. More to come . . .

  December 23

  Okay, back to it. I’m not supposed to meet Warren at the lab for a half hour, so I have time to write. It’s sort of embarrassing to write all this down, but I want to remember, later. I want to remember everything about last night. Honestly, I might veer into a sappy romance-novel kind of thing, but that’s what it felt like, so it’s just the truth. Last night could not have been any more perfect. Warren was perfect.

  After I told him I was ready, we both kind of sat there in dumb silence for a moment and I almost started to panic, like maybe he was going to change his mind, then I looked over at him and he was grinning like an absolute idiot and I started to giggle. Then he started to laugh and it was like we couldn’t stop laughing. I think it was just nerves or something but whatever it was, it totally relaxed me.

  We parked and checked for the dorm mom when we sneaked in the front door. She was nowhere in sight, and it was late enough that maybe she wouldn’t do rounds again. When we got to Warren’s room . . .

  Okay, so I won’t lie. At first it was like this totally intense making out. Greedy and needy and hot. The kind of thing you see on TV where it’s out of control and clothes get torn. But it was like Warren came to his senses at some point, or at least had the decency to step back and, like he promised, be patient enough to make it right.

  So he lit some candles and everything got a lot gentler and slower and he was so sweet. Intense, but focused on me totally, and it was amazing to feel like the center of his universe.

  I can’t even believe I’m going to write this down but here it is: It didn’t hurt like I thought it would, just kind of foreign feeling and new. And . . . good. Very good. He looked in my eyes and kept mumbling my name in my ear and afterward he made sure I was okay and held me like I was something really precious to him. Then we talked all night, getting to know each other even more. Things we remembered from our childhoods, before things got hard, dreams for the future, the pressures we’re facing now at Prescott. We just . . . we just click. He’s wonderful in so many ways.

  I am seriously the luckiest girl in the whole world that I got to lose my virginity to Warren Clark.

  We have a full day ahead of us at the lab, and we’re going to try to get homework done today.

  You know, if we don’t lose our focus. ;)

  January 2

  I feel bad that I haven’t written in a while, but I’m not really sure why. I guess because Dad got this diary for me, so I feel like it’s an obligation to him, even though he’ll never read it. It’s not like he feels any obligation to me.

  I shouldn’t have written that. It’s just that I’ve barely heard from him at all. I spoke to him on Christmas, but I have to wonder if it’s only because I called him. If I hadn’t picked up the phone to call, would he have?

  He said he and Isa had a wonderful Christmas. They visited her parents and spent a weekend at a cozy bed-and-breakfast. He inquired about my Christmas and I told him it had been great (it had, even if it was just me and Warren and Chinese takeout, which I did not mention), and he asked how school was. I kept that brief too. He asked if I’d received his presents and told me he enjoyed the ones I’d sent to him and Isa (gold cuff links for him, now that he has to attend fancy events with her all the time, and emerald earrings for her. No one seemed to notice that emerald was Mom’s birthstone). He did not ask how I’d afforded them. I hung up the phone feeling like we hadn’t really spoken at all.

  I don’t know what I’d expected or hoped for. Maybe an “I missed you so much, Bailey!” or an “I feel terrible that we didn’t get to spend Christmas together.” And of course he made no mention of Mom.

  And I don’t really know why I’m complaining. I did talk to Bex on Christmas and she has decided she was basically meant to ski. She said she was a natural on the slopes, which I don’t doubt. And it was a great Christmas. Warren loved his presents. He got me a cashmere sweater in forest green (to match my eyes, he said), a sapphire necklace (his birthstone), and a pair of really good safety goggles, which we both had a good laugh over. He told me they were for Princeton, not our “work,” and I was touched.

  He got a little fake tree with lights on it and we sat in the glow of the lights and ate the takeout and laughed and he held me all night again.

  I don’t know what I’m going to do when everyone else gets back tomorrow, and the dorm mothers are going to be patrolling regularly again. For a while it was just me and Warren, and no stress or worries other than making sure the process was still going smoothly. I wish we could go on forever like this.

  January 3

  Well, I think Emily is back to hating me, or whatever it is she called it. She came in and dumped her suitcase on her bed and asked how break was. I told her it was fine. Quiet. Hardly anyone around. I guess from there she must have deduced that I spent most of the time with Warren and went silent. When I asked about her break she was completely bitchy. Like me talking to her was irritating. Thank God I got a text from Katy that she was back and so I ran out the door to meet her.

  Katy got her hair cut! I can’t believe it. There’s no way, if I had her hair, I’d have chopped it off, but of course, this haircut just makes her look more sophisticated and fashionable. It’s a shoulder-length bob now. I swear she needs a beret or a cigarette holder or something and the look would be complete. Très chic.

  Drew and Warren met us for dinner but afterward we sneaked off again for girl time. Warren promised he’d handle the lab, so Katy and I got ice cream and I dished about my break with Warren. She faked tears and put her hand over her heart and said she was a proud mama. I swear, we went over every detail, and she properly reacted to it all, giving me more advice when necessary and beaming proudly at other times. I also told her about Emily being kind of awful.

  Katy: Yeah, well, that’s Emily. I’m surprised she hasn’t made a voodoo doll of you or drawn some kind of curse symbol under your bed. Even now she still follows Warren around.

  Me: Wait, what? She follows him around?

  Katy, licking her spoon: Yeah. Sometimes she talks to him. Sometimes she just trails him. It’s creepy.

  Me: So Warren knows?

  Katy: Yeah, of course, but Warren’s too nice of a person to do anything about it. Every time he talks to her I can tell he just feels sorry for her.

  Like, I don’t know why it bothers me that
Warren hasn’t told me about Emily, but it does. It’s not like I suspect there’s anything going on between them, but that seems like something I should know. What if she’s watching us? Following us around? It’s creepy. I feel like I should start carrying Mace but . . . I live with her. It’s not like I can protect myself too much. Thank goodness she’s not there most of the time.

  Katy had continued talking but I only noticed when I heard her say:

  Katy: . . . but Warren’s a fantastic kisser, so I’m sure he’s good at everything else, too, right?

  Me: How do you know he’s a fantastic kisser???

  Katy, laughing: Don’t worry! It was a long time ago. Eighth grade. We made out at a party at Campbell. I think we were dared to, actually. But I had braces so he probably thought I sucked. I don’t know. I’ve never had the courage to ask him.

  I laughed, amazed and surprised that Katy Ashton, of all people, didn’t have the courage to ask Warren about a kiss three years ago. And that she’d had braces! I assumed her straight teeth were a result of great genes, just like her hair and high cheekbones and body, magically toned even though I know she never sets foot in the gym.

  There is a weird part of me that is super glad Katy Ashton had flaws at some point. It makes me feel way more hopeful about the future.

  January 8

  Ugh. I don’t know what’s gotten into me, but I totally forgot that I should have been working on the Princeton science program application over break too, because it’s due next week. Luckily, Mr. Callahan already had a letter of recommendation drafted for me, so all I have to do is find another teacher to have my two. But there’s an essay due as well, plus my transcripts. So now I’m going to have to get those expedited to Prescott in some way. Maybe my old school can fax them? Are faxes still a thing?

  And don’t even get me started on the essay. Macbeth was bad enough. I should have been working on this for weeks. At least it’s only five pages, but I’m supposed to talk about how I want to use chemistry to achieve my goals. It SHOULD be easy but it’s not because, honestly, I don’t really know what my goals are. I just know I’m good at this, so I want to keep being good at this and get into a great school for it, but it’s not like Warren. He wants to find a way to cure addiction. Of course he does, after what he’s gone through with his brother. What can I say? I want to cure cancer? Embrace a cliché? Maybe I can say, “Hey, Princeton. I don’t really have any original goals on my own so I’m just going to say I want to help my boyfriend do all these amazing things,” because really, what else have I got?

  Ugh. I’ve got to get my shit together.

  January 9

  So, after thinking about it all through classes today, I think I’m going to write my essay about making drugs that will help people who are in pain but aren’t addictive. So it’s LIKE Warren’s idea, kind of piggybacking on it, but a different way to think about it. I’m happy with that, and it’s a good goal. Maybe I’ll actually adopt that as a goal.

  I was writing the essay tonight at the lab, thinking about Warren and his brother, and for some reason, I just couldn’t keep my mouth shut.

  Me: Warren? Can I ask you something?

  Warren, looking up from mixing a compound in a beaker, his goggles making him look like an owl: Anything, Bailey.

  Me: Does it ever bother you that you’re doing this? Making meth and selling it?

  Warren, pushing his goggles up on his head: Haven’t we talked about this before? I thought you were okay with this?

  Me: I am. I think. I was mainly trying to ask about you. Since . . . since your brother and everything.

  Warren set aside the chemicals and leaned on a stool, looking at me all seriously. Then he started talking, and although he seemed just as sincere as he had the other night when he told me about Mitchell dying, there was something almost robotic about it. Like he’d given this speech a hundred times before. So much that it was memorized.

  I had to wonder if it’s because it’s something he has to constantly tell himself.

  He said his brother is the whole reason why he does it. He went into more detail about Mitchell’s death, saying that the heroin he’d used the night he died was laced with fentanyl, which is a thousand times stronger than heroin. And that even though his brother was an addict, he’d still be here if he hadn’t gotten a product that was bad. If the product had been reliable and safe. So he wants to make sure that what’s available is good and pure.

  But he also told me that meth is different. He said a meth overdose is really rare and that usually, if it happens, it’s because the person was sick in some other way, in addition to being an addict. Not that I’d imagined people dying because of what we were doing (don’t get me wrong, I knew it was a possibility, but I keep that far from my mind because I know we make something safe), but I do feel better knowing it’s rare. Like Warren said, people are going to do drugs. We just need to make it safer for them.

  Maybe I can put something like that in my essay.

  January 15

  Okay, is it just me, or did the teachers literally double up the amount of homework now that everyone’s back from break? I have to read two chapters of Canterbury Tales tonight, solve about a bajillion calculus problems, and answer all the chapter review questions for three chapters in civics. Just tonight! Even Mr. Callahan assigned twice the equations to balance that he usually does. I don’t even know why I’m bothering to write in this diary right now. I have too much other stuff to do. I’m beginning to think maybe it’s my way of telling Dad what’s going on with me, even if he could just ask.

  Or maybe it’s my way of telling Mom. . . . I don’t know. I don’t have time to psychoanalyze myself tonight.

  I talked to Mr. Callahan a little after class about maybe backing off on the extra work for a little while. He said that adjusting to Prescott’s expectations can be difficult for a first-time student because the work definitely gets harder as you go, and there’s more of it. He said in a few weeks I’ll get the hang of it and know how to balance my time, and we could resume then. He didn’t seem angry or even disappointed, so I was relieved. He asked about the essay for the Princeton application and I told him it was done.

  It’s not. It’s not anywhere close. I have two more days. But I DID call my old school and they said they could scan and e-mail my transcripts to my adviser here. Thank goodness. I feel so behind and so unorganized, which is totally UN-Bailey, really, but . . . let’s be honest. A lot about this year has been pretty un-Bailey. I’m part of a pretty elite group, I have extra money to spend, I have a sexy boyfriend, not to mention my “side job.” It’s no wonder I’m a little behind, but who could blame me? And honestly, it’s worth it. I DO need to get more organized, though. I can do everything if I just focus and schedule myself better.

  I didn’t feel like I could skip out on Warren at the lab tonight, even though he said he’d be fine without my help. We’re still trying to meet a high demand. Almost everyone who, um, distributes for Drew is out of product, so we’re trying to build up a supply again.

  Warren was super sweet, though, and mostly handled everything while I did my civics and calculus. He looked over my calculus homework and I only missed one. He takes that class as well, just a different period than I do, so I told him just to copy my work and get a different question wrong. Hey, at least one of us won’t have to do it all tonight, and it was the least I could do since he handled the lab work. He said he’d do the work tomorrow, and that sounds like a good deal to me.

  By the time I got back, Emily was asleep, which is just fine because I’m in no mood to deal with another human being, even if she decided to be Nice Emily. Ha. Maybe that’s how I should refer to her from now on. She’s either Nice Emily or Scary Emily.

  Just a few more chemistry formulas to balance and I can go to bed. I swear I could sleep for days, that’s how tired I am. But there’s no way I can slack off now. In fact, I need to do more than usual to keep on top of things. If I don’t, I swear all this work
is just going to pile up and suffocate me, like a big giant stress monster swallowing me whole. Okay, that’s the weirdest sentence I’ve ever written, but also so true. I feel like I’m barely ahead of all of this, and if I don’t keep up or I falter in any way, it’s going to get me.

  January 16

  I wrote part of my essay in chemistry today. If there is any class I can afford to not pay attention in, it’s chemistry. Plus, it’s chemistry related, so I think it counts. It’s too bad Mr. Callahan can’t give me extra credit for all I do with Science Club. Ha! He didn’t notice that I wasn’t working on his stuff, I don’t think. We weren’t doing a lab today at all. He was lecturing about acids, stuff I know pretty well from my old school. I got the notes from Katy later anyway.

  Everyone was at the lab tonight, and it was funny because I guess Warren and I are kind of used to having it alone now. We were doing our dance, mind-meld thing as we worked and Katy and Drew thought it was sickeningly cute. And once, after we finished an incredible-looking batch, Warren picked me up and spun me and kissed me like no one was around. Drew started whistling and clapping. Honestly, it’s really cool that they’re so happy that we’re happy. And I really miss alone time with Warren. . . . I wonder when Drew will go home next. Ha.

  The only downside to having everyone there was that I didn’t get nearly as much homework done, so I had a lot to do when I got back to my room. Emily was still up, doing her own homework, and she smiled at me and we commiserated about how much we had to do before settling back into it. She finished before I did and crawled into bed. I should have worked on my essay more before writing in here, but I’m just too tired. Katy’s notes were good. Maybe I can write more in chemistry again tomorrow. I have another day. All I really have to do is type it up. The rest of the application is done.