All the Little Secrets (English Prep 2)

The line had started to pitter out again, so I placed the spoon down. I dropped my head and counted the worn tiles beneath my feet. My chest stopped rising when I felt a small palm slide into mine. My eyes moved to Piper’s hand clasping mine, and that was when I let the vile memory spill.

“I remembered the alley—the one we walked down to get to the side door.” I swallowed back another rough lump before continuing, focusing on her palm against mine. “I remembered seeing my mom down the alley once, soon after she dropped Christian and me off inside to pass out whatever it was, and I’m almost certain she was getting drugs.” A sarcastic chuckle left my mouth. “She brought us here once a month under the impression that we were giving to the needy, when really she was here to meet her drug dealer.”

A light gasp sounded from beside me, and I instantly regretted telling her. I hated pity, but didn’t everyone?

And there was no denying the amount of hate filling my head at the memory resurfacing. I fought the urge to rip off my hairnet and turn around, leaving Piper alone so I could be away from this place, but her hand in mine tightened, reminding me that she was here, and I wasn’t alone…not really.

I hadn’t thought about it until now, but Piper and I had something in common. Maybe it was why we were so drawn to one another. She loved someone who had an addiction, and I did, too. It was hard loving someone, knowing they didn’t love you the same. An addict would always choose you second…and their vice first. I learned that the hard way.

Piper’s hand tightened in mine again, and I glanced up, ready to swallow that pity whole, but she wasn’t looking at me.

“Oh my G

od,” she whispered, finally letting go of my hand.

“What?” I asked, confused.

Her head turned to mine for a second before she angled it toward the door. “It’s Sky.”

I followed her line of sight to a girl who looked as if she hadn’t brushed her hair in weeks. “Sky?”

Piper turned to me with a hushed voice. “Sky, as in Tank’s girlfriend. The one who—”

My voice turned steely. “The one who came to the school the other day?”

“Yes!” she whisper-shouted.

A woman who reeked of cigarettes stood in front of Piper and me, thrusting her Styrofoam container in our faces. Piper scooped up a bundle and placed it down, hearing the container crack under the weight.

“Don’t even think about it!” Piper urged, giving me a side-eye.

“What?” I asked innocently.

She rolled her eyes. “You’ve already threatened Cole. Leave this one to me. The last thing we need is you threatening the drug dealer's girlfriend.”

I cracked my neck, watching the girl in the far corner grab a Styrofoam container and climb into line for free food. Piper was right. Threatening a chick wasn’t really on my list of things to do. I’d never even had the thought before, but if Sky wanted to throw bows at Piper, a little word wouldn’t hurt.

“Trust me, Ollie,” Piper said, dragging me out of my thoughts. “Being on this side of the table versus the side she’s on is enough to put her in her place.”

I scoffed. “I doubt that.”

She shrugged. “I’m all about giving people a break. She’s mean, but what good is going to come of it from me telling her so or you threatening her? She knows that she’s mean. It’s because she’s unhappy. I mean, she is dating Tank.”

I chuckled. “Touche, Piper. Touche.”

She smiled at me before dipping the spoon back in the mashed potatoes as another person came up.

I felt a strange string in my chest, pulling at the muscle inside, as her smile lingered.

Piper was definitely the type of girl you brought home at the end of the day. There was no question about it.

And it was really hard to believe that she had a drug addict for a brother and parents who didn’t seem to give two fucks about her.

This girl deserved more.

After I left the food bank, reiterating to Piper—again—that I didn’t want her at the races, I went home and, basically, sat and watched the clock. With each slow and painful tick forward, the anticipation grew. Soon, the sun would be setting, and I’d be on my way to flying down a dirt road with a couple hundred people gathered around, all with wide eyes, hoping they had bet on the right person.

The right person = me.