Page 77 of Pieces Of You

“That soundsfun,” he says, the sarcasm in his voice unmistakable.

“Shut up,” I laugh out, throwing a grape at his head. The picnic basket’s filled with fruits and cheese and crackers, along with some bottles of apple cider and a couple of wine glasses. I’m sure if he’d brought any other girl here—one who doesn’t have a shitty history with alcohol—there’d beactualwine.

He hasn’t told me who packed the basket, and I don’t ask, but I have a feeling his mother was involved.

“Is that where you get your grandma clothes from?” he asks.

“Some,” I answer. “Mostly, they’re hand-me-downs from Gina.”

“Ah. The infamous Gina,” he almost sings, kicking his legs out in front of him. “Tell me more about this Gina of yours.”

It’s getting colder out, the autumn chill just enough to float across my arms, to prickle along my flesh. I move closer to him, and he must notice the goose bumps, because he removes his Townsend HS Athletics hoody. “You don’t have to—” I break off when he gets to his knees, holding the garment just above my head. He slides it over me, making sure not to ruin my hair, and it’s such a sweet, affectionate move that when I finally push my arms through the sleeves, I’m… speechless. I don’t know what to say or how to act. I’ve become so accustomed to taking care of myself, or others, that the mere act of someone else doing it for me has my chest aching. There’s a burn behind my eyes that has me taking a breath, trying to hide my reaction.

“So Gina?” he asks, watching me, one eyebrow raised.

I clear my throat, speak through the knot in my throat. “Gina…” And then I exhale, releasing all my emotions out with it. “Gina found me at the bus stop when I was in second grade. I was filthy and unkempt and she… she took me into her home. The first time, it was to bathe me, but the next morning, she was there again, and I was in clothes that hadn’t been washed in forever, and so…” I shrug. “She brought me back to her house and found some clothes for me to wear. I was still so little, so they were all too big, but she’d hem the skirts in a way that I could undo and alter the older I got.” I run a hand along my skirt. “This is one of hers,” I tell him.

We’re both looking out at the field and not each other when he says, “So you just started dressing in her clothes every day?”

I nod. “I used to get teased a lot, but when I came to school in clean clothes, the teasing stopped being about the state of my wardrobe and switched to the style of it. And that? That I could handle because I felt like… I don’t know… like I had something to be proud of.”

“And now?”

“Now what?” I ask, turning to look up at him. He’s already watching me.

“Why do you still wear them now?”

Another shrug. “Just because I grew up, it doesn’t mean those insecurities go away. Especially as a senior starting at a new school. I’d rather have people talk about my shitty fashion choices than to be the poor, little orphan girl who scrubs dishes and lives in a trailer park.”

After a beat of silence, he asks, “Where’s your dad?”

I laugh once. “The only thing my mom knew about him was his name. And I’m not even sure if she got that right, which could be a disaster since she named me after him.”

Holden says nothing.

“James,” I tell him. “If you were curious.”

He nods once. “Do you ever think that you’re the only one who might see you that way? As the poor, little orphan girl who scrubs dishes and lives in a trailer park…”

“Maybe,” I answer truthfully. “But it doesn’t take the insecurities away.”

He picks up a strawberry and inspects it a few moments before asking, “When was the last time you saw or spoke to Gina?”

“When we left. I was thirteen.”

“And you haven’t gone back to see her?”

“I can’t,” I reply, my heart suddenly heavy. “It’s too dangerous.”

His entire body stiffens against mine. “Why?”

“She only lives two doors down from Beaker, my mom’s ex—and we didn’t exactly leave on good terms, so…”

“Sucks,” is all he says. And then he’s quiet. Too quiet. And for far too long.

“What are you thinking?” I ask, even though I'm afraid of the answer.

“Nothing really.” He throws a slight smile my way. “Just that… this suits you, being out here.”

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