Read Online Everything Beautiful by Simmone Howell - Free Book Online
Authors: Simmone Howell
Ads: Link
straight, but her chin started to wobble. “I was going to give it back. And then I thought maybe it would give me luck.” She hung her head. “I’m so ashamed.”
She would have stayed standing that way forever if I hadn’t grabbed her shoulders and given them a tight shake.
“Sarita,” I said. “Sarita, you need to lighten up.” I turned back to my bag and pulled out a belt made of silver discs.
“Here.” I thrust it at her. “Put this on. It’s from Méhico . ”
Sarita looked unsure. I frowned at her, so she knew I wasn’t playing a trick, and she bit back a smile and put the belt around her waist.
“Wear it lower—it’s supposed to sit on your hips.”
“Like that?”
“Exactly like that.”
Mom said, “Sea-glass is special.” It shouldn’t be, but it is. It’s just broken glass: bottles smashed at beach parties, fishermen’s whiskey left in the rocks, champagne cracked over ships’ prows, missives flung from the starboard deck. It’s just remnants buffed to infinity by a billion, trillion grains of sand, and you will never find two pieces of sea-glass that look the same. “ Riley, no one looks like you. No one is like you. You are unique . ”
16
Fatal Flaws
“My personal possession is this belt,” Sarita told the Honeyeaters. “It’s from my Mexican penpal, Paco. He’s in prison in Juarez. He was caught trying to cross the border. His English is dire, but he is an excellent silversmith.”
“ Bull! ” Richard coughed into his palm.
“In all honesty!” Sarita protested, blushing.
“Okay, and what does your personal possession say about you?” Roslyn coached.
Sarita held one of the silver discs in her fingers. She turned it over and said softly, “It is not the kind of thing that I ever would have picked out for myself. But when I wear it I feel special. Like I have my soul on show, and it’s all shiny and intricate, and so it makes me feel like there’s more to me than everyone thinks. That is all.” She hung her head and I could see beads of sweat on the top of her forehead.
Roslyn broke the silence. “That’s really beautiful.” She looked thrown by Sarita’s response, and it was funny because I knew it wasn’t true, but at the same time, it was honest. “Really … great. Riley?”
“Oh, I don’t have anything.” I strung my little finger along my necklace. Try making me talk, sister. I hadn’t been the first person to foil Roslyn’s party game. Dylan had been my inspiration. When Roslyn had called on him, he’d shaken some pills out of his little vial and rolled them around his palm like they were diamonds. “I call these my drifties,” he’d said. “One gives you a kind of fuzzbox effect. Two make your eyelids feel like they’re made out of cement. Three is the magic number. Three’s when you start to drift away. After four, it depends on your tolerance. Start counting backward from one hundred and see how far you get.” He squared his shoulders. “Prescribed for pain relief. Street value—”
Craig cut him off. “Thanks for the how-to. Real responsible.”
Dylan didn’t respond. I started to wonder if maybe he had taken a couple before coming to class. No one knew what to say, they were all just looking down, picking at their toenails, pushing dead leaves around the dirt.
Roslyn held her hand out. “Let me see.”
Dylan tossed her the vial. She read the label and then tossed them back.
“Did you know I used to be a nurse?” Roslyn said smartly. Then her face softened. “Dylan, you’re not a wild boy. You don’t have to pretend here. We’re your friends.” Dylan went red. He shoved his vial back into his bag. Roslyn shook her head and looked to the clouds.
Now she was shaking her head at me.
“Really,” I insisted, “I had a look and I don’t have anything.”
Roslyn sighed. “Riley, this is your time to tell us about yourself.”
“I just did.”
“Riley.”
I smiled. Roslyn started to say something, then stopped. “Fine,” she
She would have stayed standing that way forever if I hadn’t grabbed her shoulders and given them a tight shake.
“Sarita,” I said. “Sarita, you need to lighten up.” I turned back to my bag and pulled out a belt made of silver discs.
“Here.” I thrust it at her. “Put this on. It’s from Méhico . ”
Sarita looked unsure. I frowned at her, so she knew I wasn’t playing a trick, and she bit back a smile and put the belt around her waist.
“Wear it lower—it’s supposed to sit on your hips.”
“Like that?”
“Exactly like that.”
Mom said, “Sea-glass is special.” It shouldn’t be, but it is. It’s just broken glass: bottles smashed at beach parties, fishermen’s whiskey left in the rocks, champagne cracked over ships’ prows, missives flung from the starboard deck. It’s just remnants buffed to infinity by a billion, trillion grains of sand, and you will never find two pieces of sea-glass that look the same. “ Riley, no one looks like you. No one is like you. You are unique . ”
16
Fatal Flaws
“My personal possession is this belt,” Sarita told the Honeyeaters. “It’s from my Mexican penpal, Paco. He’s in prison in Juarez. He was caught trying to cross the border. His English is dire, but he is an excellent silversmith.”
“ Bull! ” Richard coughed into his palm.
“In all honesty!” Sarita protested, blushing.
“Okay, and what does your personal possession say about you?” Roslyn coached.
Sarita held one of the silver discs in her fingers. She turned it over and said softly, “It is not the kind of thing that I ever would have picked out for myself. But when I wear it I feel special. Like I have my soul on show, and it’s all shiny and intricate, and so it makes me feel like there’s more to me than everyone thinks. That is all.” She hung her head and I could see beads of sweat on the top of her forehead.
Roslyn broke the silence. “That’s really beautiful.” She looked thrown by Sarita’s response, and it was funny because I knew it wasn’t true, but at the same time, it was honest. “Really … great. Riley?”
“Oh, I don’t have anything.” I strung my little finger along my necklace. Try making me talk, sister. I hadn’t been the first person to foil Roslyn’s party game. Dylan had been my inspiration. When Roslyn had called on him, he’d shaken some pills out of his little vial and rolled them around his palm like they were diamonds. “I call these my drifties,” he’d said. “One gives you a kind of fuzzbox effect. Two make your eyelids feel like they’re made out of cement. Three is the magic number. Three’s when you start to drift away. After four, it depends on your tolerance. Start counting backward from one hundred and see how far you get.” He squared his shoulders. “Prescribed for pain relief. Street value—”
Craig cut him off. “Thanks for the how-to. Real responsible.”
Dylan didn’t respond. I started to wonder if maybe he had taken a couple before coming to class. No one knew what to say, they were all just looking down, picking at their toenails, pushing dead leaves around the dirt.
Roslyn held her hand out. “Let me see.”
Dylan tossed her the vial. She read the label and then tossed them back.
“Did you know I used to be a nurse?” Roslyn said smartly. Then her face softened. “Dylan, you’re not a wild boy. You don’t have to pretend here. We’re your friends.” Dylan went red. He shoved his vial back into his bag. Roslyn shook her head and looked to the clouds.
Now she was shaking her head at me.
“Really,” I insisted, “I had a look and I don’t have anything.”
Roslyn sighed. “Riley, this is your time to tell us about yourself.”
“I just did.”
“Riley.”
I smiled. Roslyn started to say something, then stopped. “Fine,” she
Similar Books
