34 Pieces of You Read Online Free PDF Page B

against the headboard. I pull a pillow protectively in front of me. “I’ve never kept a secret from you or Ellie.”
    We both know this is a lie. We both know I’ve hidden things about Jake. But Tommy’s never brought that up, and he doesn’t do it now, either. He comes around the bed, takes my chin in his hand, and forces me to look at him. “Sarah, please don’t be like this. Don’t ruin this. You and me—this is all that’s left.” He holds my stare. “It’s not like you love me, right? Notlike that.” He waits. When I don’t respond, he squeezes my chin.
    “Tommy, you’re hurting me.” I try to pull away, but I can’t, because he’s getting worked up again, and when he’s worked up, it’s never good. “Please, Tommy,” I say gently. “You should go. My mom’s going to be home soon.”
    But he doesn’t seem to care about that. He says, “Just say it, Sarah. Just say it.”
    “What? I don’t know what you want me to say!”
    “That you don’t care about . . .” He struggles for a moment, his deep breaths filling the room. “That you’ve never—”
    “Tommy, please!” And then I’m crying. And it’s my tears that do the trick. Finally he lets me go, and I scoot to the far corner of the bed as fast as I can. “I don’t know what you want from me.” My voice washes away. I stare at the ceiling. I go somewhere else in my head. I see another Tommy. The one who’s been my friend since the sixth grade. The second guy I ever kissed, as an experiment in Ellie’s basement when I was thirteen. And, when I was fourteen, the first guy who ever held me—even if it was because I was so freaked out on acid that I thought the sirens from my sister’s toy police car were actual sirens and the police were coming to take us away. And, when I was fifteen, the first guy I ever fell asleep with, even if it wasbecause we were too drunk to move from Ellie’s bedroom floor. I see that Tommy, not this one. And suddenly I hear him crying. And I feel sad for him. I feel so incredibly sad for us both.
    I don’t know what to do to make it better, but I know that he needs me. So I wrap myself around him. And even though I told him to leave, I now tell him to stay. That we’ll be okay. His shoulders slump forward. He’s sobbing so hard he’s shaking.
    A few minutes later, the sound of my mother’s car fills the driveway. Tommy stiffens. He stands, grabs his shirt from the corner, and then moves toward the window. He says in a small voice, “I’m sorry, okay. I’m sorry.”
    I say, “I know,” and then I start to straighten up the bedroom. And I tell myself to forget this afternoon, to forget that we can be this way.

5.
     
    Let’s h o ld hands
and pretend t o gether.
     

Jake
    BEFORE. NOVEMBER.
     
    Ellie said, “It’s hard for me here.” It was difficult for me to understand her over the phone. Her breath was labored, so her voice shook.
    I said, “What’s hard for you?” It was late, real late. I had classes the next day, but I was up. I never went to sleep before three or four in the morning. “Wait,” I said, and then I leaned across Amber—this girl I’d met a few days before in a bar near school—to turn down the music. “Okay, go on.”
    She said, “I’m struggling, Jake. It’s hard for me.” I wasn’t surprised by the panic in her voice. Ellie had called religiously since I left Ohio. Some nights she sounded anxious, like she was afraid of being in that house without me. Other nights our conversationswere fueled by her manic energy. But then there were the nights when we’d sit in near silence, the conversation having the stop-and-go rhythm of a drive filled with speed bumps. But even on those nights she was reluctant to get off the phone.
    Always, she asked questions. What did you do today? Do you still hate that teacher? Is that dude on your floor still acting like a douche? But if I tried to ask more specific questions about her life, she’d remain