Page 86 of The Tattered Gloves
He nodded. “And there is a reason for that.”
Folding my arms in front of me, I waited.
“What do we have a ton of in this town right now?” he asked me.
I gave him a blank look. “Antique stores?”
He laughed. “Okay, besides that.” There was a short pause, as he waited for me to figure it out. When it became clear, I wasn’t into his game, he finally gave in. “Teenagers!” he announced. “And, specifically, teenage girls! Come on, Willow. Don’t you see what I’m doing here? I’m not trying to get rid of your beloved young adult section. I’m trying to find customers for it. So, how do we do that? Offer up a sale.”
“That’s actually smart, I guess,” I said.
“I know.”
“But I have one condition.”
“To the plan I’ve already set in motion?”
I nodded.
“Okay.”
I held out the book that was still neatly tucked in my hand. “I want this book, half off.”
His laughter filled the entire store.
STANDING IN FRONT of the nearly full bookshelf in my room, I slipped my new favorite book next to the others, smiling to myself with happiness. Even though I hadn’t read it yet and I had about five others to read before I got to it, I knew it would be amazing.
Because that was what reading was to me.
It gave the lonely girl still living inside me a thousand opportunities to walk in someone else’s shoes — see life in a new perspective, travel to a new land… even be a mythical creature if I wanted to be.
And, so far, I’d taken that little girl everywhere.
Yet the very real teenager that I was, was stuck.
Stuck in these gloves that kept me from doing anything.
I wasn’t lying when I’d told Sam I trusted him. I did, more than he knew.
Yet when it came to showing him? Showing anyone? I was stuck.
Trapped inside these gloves that were supposed to protect me from the horrors of the world.
Instead, they’d somehow become my prison, and I couldn’t find the key to unlock my freedom.
Grabbing the edge of my left glove, I tried. I tried so hard to pull it off… to reveal the skin beneath.
Allison had once asked how I showered, a common question people must have had when they found out about my oddity.
“I use plastic bags and tape,” I’d confessed, feeling ashamed. “Sometimes, when they get really gross, I’ll wash them with a little shampoo, but it itches while I wait for them to dry.”
“So, you never take them off?” she’d asked.
“Never.”
Never suddenly felt like a long time.
“YOU READY TO go?” Addy asked, peeking her head inside my room.
