AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Is shenice?” This girl isfullof surprises. And admittedly, I’d kind of suspected what went on. The breakup, followed by Dean and Jamie’s reaction to each other,and then the secrets that followed… it wasn’t hard to put two and two together. But now she’s asking about Bethany, and I have to wonder what role she’s played through it all. Dean—he’s not the kind of guy to cheat just for cheating’s sake. He’s hadplentyof opportunities, especially when I’ve been around, and not once has he even stoked the flames.
So, it comes down to two things: lies and deceit. And I don’t want to add to the lies, so I give her the truth. “Yeah, she is,” I admit, watching her reaction closely. “I mean, she’s a girl with zero drama who just happens to be the most popular girl at school and the head cheerleader—not that any of that matters. But, she started and championed an anti-bullying campaign that’s now enforced in multiple schools, so…” I trail off, feeling a slight twinge of pity when I see the way Jamie nods slowly as if she knows all this already. I add, just so I don’t have to end there, “Truthfully, she’s a little too straight-edge for me, but hey, I wasn’t the one dating her.”
“So… she’s perfect,” Jamie mumbles. “Awesome.” She flops back in the seat, her shoulders slumped. And then she looks up, her sad, solemn eyes on mine. “I didn’t know about her,” she says, and now I’m all ears. “I wouldn’t have started anything if I did. And I’m not naïve enough not to realize how it must look from the outside.” She chews the corner of her lip, adding, “It was never just sex, at least not for me.” I don’t know why my stomach turns at that last piece of information, but it does. “I guess I just want you to know that I’m not that person. I would never knowingly do something that would hurt someone else.” She pauses a beat. “Especially not to someone like Bethany.” Half turning, she focuses out the window. She doesn’t say anything else, and I’m too busy trying to piece it all together.
“It doesn’t make sense,” I mumble, more to myself than anyone else.
Slowly, she faces me, and it’s clear she’s on the verge of tears. “What doesn’t?”
“Why isn’t it all over school? You’d think Bethany would’ve told her friends, and they’d tell everyone else.”
Jamie blinks once. Twice. “Isn’t it obvious?”
I shake my head. “No.”
“Because… it would be different if he cheated on her with someone worthy, you know? I’m trailer trash who washes dishes at a truck stop.” She laughs, but it’s filled with so much sadness it creates a sudden, forceful ache in my chest. I stare at her, right into her eyes, and I can see all the broken fragments of a girl who refuses to see her worth. I’ve stared into similar eyes my entire life: my mom and Mia. “I can’t even imagine her shame,” she says, her words uneven. I don’t look away, and neither does she, not even when I can see her discomfort set in. “I mean, just look at her… and look at me.”
“I am.” And then I clear my throat, steady my voice, filling it with enough clarity, so she never has to question what I say next. “And there’s not a single piece of me that sees you the way you see yourself.”
8
Holden
When I got homelast night, I stripped out of my clothes, and—for the first time in my entire life—I emptied my pockets.
My mom would be proud.
After we ate, Jamie excused herself to the restroom, and I took the opportunity to collect the balled-up napkins she’d turned intoart.
The first one she drew was a closeup of the blackberry bushes we’d tended to that afternoon. It was of a single branch with leaves, berries, flowers, and even the thorns. It was, and I don’t use this word lightly,beautiful.
I don’t know how she did it in such a short time or from memory alone, but it deserved to be hung somewhere, displayed and appreciated—not balled-up and trashed.
The second one was just sharp lines with no conclusive image, but she obviously created it from whatever she was feeling emotionally: Anger. Hurt. Despair.Shame.
It made me question what she felt when she drew the blackberries.
I laid them both out and slid them in my desk drawer.
Why?
I don’t know.
And I refuse to question it.
“So, you went out to dinner?” Dean asks, running on the track beside me during after-school practice. Every opportunity he’s had to ask about Jamie, or specifically, meandJamie, he’s used it. It’s been question after question, and it’s pissing me off. Obviously, I don’t have a lot to say, just like him prior to yesterday. I never pushed him for more, and I wish he’d give me the same in return.
“It wasn’t dinner. It was just… we finished the work, and I was hungry, and she offered to buy me a meal for driving her home.”
He almost trips over his own feet. “You drove herhome?”
I nod, too busy trying to keep oxygen in my lungs to respond verbally.
“I’m surprised she let you see where she lives.”
“Why? Because it’s in a trailer park?” If he answers yes, I might have to re-evaluate our friendship. As much of an asshole as I can be, even I wouldn’t stoop that low. Or maybe that’ll be my excuse, because honestly? I’m finding it really fucking hard to look at him without wanting to knock out his teeth, and I don’t know if I’d be doing it for Jamie or Bethany or just because he was such a dick to them both. But, I have to remind myself that who he fucks is his business, not mine. And besides, he’s never once criticized my—as Jamie puts it—dick activity.
“No,” he answers through a strained exhale. “Because she’s weird about people knowing she lives alone.”
