Grandpa worked at an auto shop during the day and stocked shelves at a hardware store two evenings a week to make sure I had everything I needed.
Never once did he complain.
***
At school, prom season had turned the cafeteria into a runway of glossy catalogs.
“This one is $1,200,” Lorraine, one of my bullies, announced, spinning her phone around so everyone at her table could see. “Mom said if I want the beading, we have to order this week.”
Never once did he complain.
Her friend Jenna leaned in.
“Get the champagne one. It’ll match your shoes.”
I sat two tables away, pretending to read. I had already been scrolling through thrift-store listings on my phone all week, saving screenshots of anything under $30.
Lorraine glanced my way and smirked.
“Tina, are you even going? Or are we doing the shoe thing again?”
I had already been scrolling through thrift-store listings.
***
I remembered freshman year, when she pointed at my sneakers and made the whole hallway laugh.
***
I didn’t answer. I just closed my phone.
Glenn walked past our row, then, his gym bag over his shoulder, gave me a small nod. He was the kind of guy who somehow stayed popular in our school without being mean. He’d done that same quiet nod a hundred times over the years.
I never understood why.
