“You work, too?”
“Yeah, I have a couple odd jobs,” he answers vaguely, picking up his book and opening up his backpack.
“I just work at the dollar store, trying to save up some money to be able to go to cosmetology school. Sooner than later. I’m notmeant for this eight to three school day. I want to learn a trade and be independent. As soon as I possibly can.”
Ty looks at me, his actions slowing down as he stares.
I follow him, moving to put my stuff away but notice he stalls and so again, I follow him.
“What?”
“Being independent isn’t all it’s cracked up to be,” he simply says.
“It’s got to be better than what I have now.” While the home I’m in now is good, I heard the mom say that they wanted a baby. Every single time a mom has gotten pregnant or found a baby to adopt, they’ve kicked me to the curb so I’m preparing myself.
“It’s harder than you’d think,” Ty says quietly, almost mumbling under his breath.
“And you know?” My tone is sharp, too sharp for someone that’s shown me kindness like he has today. But at the same time, what does he know about what I’ve gone through?
“I’ve been out on my own with Asher and his brother, helping provide for my family, for the past six months. I get no help from my mother and all she does is expect me to help pay for things. I’m fifteen years old. It’s a lot that I didn’t sign up for,” he snaps, zipping up his backpack aggressively.
And that’s when everything slots into place.
My hand darts out to grab his arm before he turns away.
“I’m sorry,” I say softly. “I’m not used to someone…understanding and not judging.”
“I don’t judge,” he grumbles before putting his hand on mine. “Not out loud at least.”
Damn him for his dry humor that makes me laugh.
His fingers play with the leather cord I have tied around my wrist.
“What’s this?”
“A string I got from my first house after my parents gave me up. I was only five, and the first house seemed…okay. Safe. They took care of me and they were actually nice. Until I got in trouble one too many times at school. Then they sent me off.” I look down, not willing to make eye contact with him. I don’t usually share these kinds of things with people…but there’s a connection here.
A bond.
An understanding.
Ty nods, twisting the string once around the tip of his finger before dropping his hand.
“And you wear it?”
“Every day. It’s a reminder not to get comfortable. Not to trust that everyone means what they say.” I drop my hand and pick up my backpack. I’m nothing if not honest. “Let’s go.”
Ty nods, and there’s a puzzled look on his face, but he slings his backpack on his shoulder before stopping suddenly.
“You know you can trust that I mean what I say,” he says lowly.
“I know I can trust that you’ll try.” I smile. That’s the best I can give him right now.
Ty and I push through the forest line just as the upperclassmen are rushing out for their lunch breaks. A bunch of seniors and juniors running to their cars to go buy cheap fast food in order to not have to endure the cafeteria.
“Lunch?” Ty asks, pointing towards the cafeteria with a smirk.
“Food!” I rave and we run inside, chuckling.
