Page 71 of Trusting Easton

“She asked me something. I didn’t give her an answer. I wanted to tell you first.”

“Tell me what?”

“Jenna said people at your school were talking about me, about how I went to an alternative high school and spent time in juvie.”

“Yeah, and I told them to shut the fuck up.”

“Easton, it’s true. All of it.”

“Yeah? So? I already knew you went to Larkmont. I went there when I was looking for you.”

“But you don’t know how I ended up there.”

I keep quiet and wait for her to tell me.

“I got arrested for shoplifting. More than once.”

“A lot of people shoplift. Jenna stole lip gloss a few years ago. My mom made her go back to the store and pay for it. She was too young to get in trouble for it.”

“I didn’t take lip gloss.” She tries to pull away, but I keep her in my arms.

“What’d you take?”

“The first time it was jeans. I wore a really baggy sweatshirt, went in the dressing room with three pairs of jeans, and stuffed them in my shirt. They were expensive, like $80 each. I didn’t even look at the price when I did it. I just grabbed whatever I found in my size. I outgrew my old ones and Ted wouldn’t get me new ones and I didn’t know what else to do.”

“Nova, that’s Ted’s fault, not yours. He should’ve bought you clothes, and whatever else you needed. You were a kid. You didn’t know what else to do.”

“I was 15. I was old enough to know it was wrong.”

“So what happened?”

“They took me to jail and Ted had to come pick me up. Then a few months later, I stole a phone. It was $600. I shouldn’t have done it, but I was so angry that everyone had one and I didn’t. And I needed it for my job. They put your schedule online for when you’re supposed to work. I got fired for not showing up one day because I didn’t see that they’d scheduled me. When I told Ted I needed a phone, he told me I’d have to save up for it and buy it myself, but I couldn’t take a job without the stupid phone to check my work schedule. So I stole one and got arrested again. I had to spend a weekend in juvenile detention. And then I got transferred to Larkmont, where all the fuckups go.”

“Hey!” I move so I’m facing her. “You are not a fuckup. You took that stuff because you needed it. Because you didn’t have an adult in your life who would get it for you. That’s not your fault. People do what they have to do to survive. I don’t remember much from when I lived with my biological parents, but I do remember my mom taking shit from stores. Hiding it under her shirt or in her purse. She took it because she was desperate, not because she wanted to do it.” I hold Nova’s shoulders, my eyes on hers. “You are not a bad person because you took a phone or some pairs of jeans. If Ted, or anyone else, told you that, they’re wrong.”

“I didn’t want you to know,” she says, slumping back on the couch, “and now everyone at your school does.”

“Who gives a shit? You don’t even know those people. And like they haven’t done anything? Everyone makes mistakes, but only some of us get caught. And you only took that stuff because Ted was an ass and didn’t take care of you. This isn’t your fault. You shouldn’t be ashamed of this.”

She’s looking at me like she doesn’t believe me, like I’m only saying it to try to make her feel better.

I put my arm around her and pull her to my side. “Stop being ashamed of something that’s not your fault.”

“You want to watch a movie with me?” she asks, changing the subject.

“Yeah, but I need to change out of these jeans.” I kiss her forehead. “I’ll be back in a minute.” I stand up.

“You really shouldn’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Kiss me.” She smiles a little. “That’s something a boyfriend would do.”

“I was checking to see if your forehead was hot.”

“That’s not what you were doing. That was a boyfriend kiss.”

“Or a friend kiss.”

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