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“My dad.” I cleared my throat when my voice rasped, wishing Daniel Indigo were alive now more than I’d ever wished it before. If he were still here, Barry never would’ve married my mom, and I wouldn’t be suffering through any of this.
“Your dad,” Ryder’s voice prompted softly. “It was your dad’s coat?”
Though he couldn’t see me, I nodded. “Yeah. Mom said it was his favorite. So I wear to…I don’t know…I guess I wear it to honor him.”
When Ryder didn’t respond, I reached up and wiped at a silent tear on my cheek tracking down toward my ear. I couldn’t help but wonder how close I’d be to my dad if he were alive.
“That’s the first thing I ever noticed about you.”
I sniffed and wiped at my nose. “Huh?”
“Your coat,” Ryder clarified. “At the ballgame against Hillsburg. When I saw a girl—you—wearing that coat, it…” He paused before continuing in a bashful tone. “Well, it reminded me of a movie, that’s all.”
I frowned, not catching on to what he meant at all. “What movie?” I asked, hoping he’d clear up a few answers.
He sighed. “Okay, fine. I’ll explain. My mom is a fanatic for old movies, right?”
Umm….okay.
“And one of her favorites is On the Waterfront with Marlon Brando. Have you ever seen it?”
I shook my head. “No.”
“Well, it’s about this ex-prize fighter who helps out the mob and ends up getting some guy killed. The dead guy was going to rat out the mob to the authorities, so they picked him off, see. And he had this jacket. Looked just like the jacket you wear everywhere. Well, it was a black and white movie, but I always imagined it was red and black like yours.”
“Okay,” I said. His explanation meant nothing to me.
“It was a very significant jacket in the movie,” Ryder persisted. “When one person who tried to stand up to the mob wore it, they ended up dead. So the jacket would pass on to someone else and suddenly that person was standing up to the mob. These good characters kept dying until finally the jacket came to Marlon Brando. He didn’t want to stand up for what was right because his brother worked for the mob, but the girl he liked needed him to be the hero and he just couldn’t live with being a coward anymore. So finally, he stood up to them too.”
“Did he die?” I asked, suddenly intrigued by the movie’s plot.
“Marlon Brando?” Ryder asked, his voice filled with surprise. “Heck, no. He gets beat up a little but he finally encourages the rest of the town, or whatever, to support him. And he triumphs. That’s why I love that jacket so much. I always have this weird sense that whoever is wearing it is the good guy, you know. Someone who isn’t afraid to stand up for what’s right, no matter how frightening it is.”
I didn’t answer, but his explanation stuck with me. I smiled in the dark. The coat had passed from my father to me, just as they had passed it along in the movie. Made me think my father must’ve been the first good guy out there. I liked that. But I didn’t feel like any kind of heroine who stood up for what I knew was right. I was a coward, unworthy of my dad’s jacket.
“Guess I sound pretty stupid huh?” Ryder mumbled, making me realize I’d never responded to his story.
“No. I…I actually really like that explanation.” After another moment of silence, I quietly added, “Thank you for telling me.”
“Thank you for telling me about the glove in the snow.”
I smiled, surprised he even remembered that picture I’d taken. It had only been a few weeks ago, but it felt like years, centuries had passed since my first day at Southeast.
“That’s why I told you I didn’t think you belonged with my group, you know. It wasn’t because I didn’t think you were good enough to hang with that crew. It was because of the glove. If you had told anyone else in the group about what you saw from the glove picture, they would’ve just made fun of you. They totally wouldn’t have understood that your answer is the most amazing thing about you. They would’ve ended up ruining you.”
My chest felt tight. I couldn’t believe Ryder Yates had just called me amazing. Tears pooled around my eyes and I tried to blink them back, but they kept flooding my lashes.
“Grace?” His voice was raw and uncertain. “Please say something.”
I wiped at my cheeks and sniffed. “If you understood my glove picture then that means you probably don’t belong with that group of people either.”
He sounded sad as he answered, “Yeah. Maybe.”
“Then why do you hang out with them?”
“No idea.”
I gave a loud snort.
