Pipsqueak moved on to the freezer, which was fairly empty too. There was a bag of French fries, a packet of hot dogs, and some leftover chicken.
She found a bit more in the first cupboard next to the fridge. Peanut butter, bread, and approximately seven bags of chips, most of them opened.
I scratched my bicep absently. Which reminded me that I only had a wifebeater on, and some of the scars showed. On the other hand, Pipsqueak had seen them before. I could unclench.
I didn’t care about strangers when, for instance, I was in the sauna or I showered at the gym. Over the years, the Quinn family had somehow been included in the “safe” category. We’d gone together to the lakes that were all over the place up in the mountains, and we’d hit Silver Beach a few times too. No problem, possibly because Darius, Jake, and Ryan had their fair share of scars. But if I hooked up with someone or there was a field trip with students and any type of undressing was involved, I either kept a tee on or didn’t participate.
My scars were fucking ugly. Most of them had stretched wider as I’d grown up, leaving my back a canvas of blotchy marks, faded cuts, and a few angrier, uneven lines, like the one Darius had once mentioned. A parting gift from my aunt, who’d worked with cattle before she died. The time I’d called her for help, she’d brought a bullwhip. I’d received four lashes, and Finn had received two.
“How’s the inventory going?” I asked as a way to derail my thoughts.
“I’m trying to figure you out,” Pipsqueak muttered. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say it’s not weird that you rarely smile. There’s no sweetness in your life.”
Fuck. Go figure, she’d noticed I wasn’t a very happy person.
“But you know better?” I wondered.
“Yup.” She closed the cupboard and sighed. “Okay, I guess I found the one thing that makes me fret more than knowing I start school on Friday. This is fucked up.”
“Hey.” When the hell did she start cursing?
She ignored me completely. “Like, how do you celebrate a birthday without cake? How do you make yourself feel better after a crappy day without a cookie? These are human rules, Mister.”
The frustration and worry rolling off her tugged at a chord in me. She was genuinely at a loss.
As I poured a cup of coffee, I told her I’d explain outside.
No matter how tired I was, it seemed I woke up if Pipsqueak needed help understanding something about people.
Was this what it was like to have a sibling? It was difficult to remember what I’d had with my brother. Insignificant, everyday struggles hadn’t really existed, and we’d been separated once CPS got involved. Finn had been placed with a family in Tacoma, and I’d spent most of the following years in group homes. The only thing that’d made a couple families consider taking me in was the fact that I’d been a straight A student. I’d been religious about school, knowing from an early age that my one shot at making it was to qualify for scholarships and grants.
“Do you want anything to eat or drink, Pipsque—”
“Like what?” she snapped. “No thank you, I’m not in the mood for buffalo sauce and pickles.” With that said, she spun on her heel and stalked outside.
My eyebrows went up. “I have ranch too!” I hollered after her.
Here I was, thinking I’d gone overboard when I’d bought a total of four spices, not counting salt and pepper. An all-around barbecue rub and garlic powder were necessary for marinades, but I’d splurged and added oregano and chili powder.
On my way outside, I decided she should come over during the day at some point. I’d make her my pizza toast. Simple and delicious. All you did was take a few slices of bread, spread butter, marinara from a jar, add shredded cheese on top, then sprinkle some oregano and set the microwave to thirty seconds.
A perfectly good meal in under two minutes.
I took a seat on the patio, and Pipsqueak asked me why I even had peanut butter at home if I didn’t use it with jelly.
“I prefer it without.” I shrugged and tasted my coffee.
“Ugh.” Pipsqueak folded her arms over her chest and glanced out over the dark playground past my backyard.
I studied her and wondered if she was actively looking for something to be upset about. She’d mentioned this being the one thing that bothered her more than starting school on Friday. Someone was nervous.
“How can I help you prepare for school?” I asked.
She flicked me a brief look. “You were going to explain—”
“This takes precedence.” I cut her off patiently but firmly. “I know you don’t like hearing empty promises, such as, things are going to be okay. So lay it on me. Tell me what would help settle your nerves.”
She bit her lip, thinking, and fidgeted with her hands in her lap. “Every summer, I come back to school and find that my classmates have evolved during the break.”
Valid worry. These days, I only taught seniors, but back when I had different grades, the changes had been clear as day. Summer was a time many grew up. I could wish a class of juniors a happy summer, only to greet them as seniors a few months later and wonder if they were the same people.
“You’ve spent time with your friends during the break, haven’t you?” I wondered.
She nodded. “Some of them. Sammie helped me do this. It’s popular right now.” She extended her hand, and…I didn’t know what I was looking at. She had dark blue nail polish, which wasn’t new. Nor was it very pretty, but all girls her age did it.
“Uh…”
“The rhinestone!” She pointed at her index finger.
Ah. Okay. There was a rhinestone affixed to her nail. All right.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” She smiled.
I cleared my throat and took a swig of my coffee.
She narrowed her eyes.
“I’m sorry.” I became slightly defensive; I couldn’t help it. “I don’t care about fashion trends, but if jumping on the bandwagon helps keep your worries at bay, by all means. I know it’s important to fit in, Pipsqueak, but—”
“No buts, please.” Her eyes flashed with uncertainty and a plea for me to understand. “It does help. I’m already so different from everyone.”
I sighed and looked at her. Really looked at her. And maybe I wasn’t the right person for her to talk to about this, because I was torn. At work, I faced these teenagers every single day. I knew how ruthless they could be, and Elise was already going to struggle a lot as she got older. She was starting high school next year, where every problem suddenly became magnified. In the meantime, adults would constantly minimize their problems and go on a rant about, “Just wait till you get older, dear.”
Teenage drama was bullshit and nothing in comparison to what she’d face as an adult, but it didn’t make the teenage drama any less real. Plus, throw in buckets of hormones, and it was a virtual Nagasaki for these kids.
In Pipsqueak’s case, factor in autism too.
“I don’t have anything worthwhile to contribute about trends, but I understand why you’re trying to be part of them,” I settled for saying.
“Thank you.” She sent me a quick smile. “But this one is beautiful.”