Pieces of Us Read Online Free PDF

blond-haired and twiggy. My Chloe has brown hair that fills up with split ends too quickly. She wears mismatched pants and shirts and carries a pocketbook that’s three sizes bigger than what’s in style. She’s pudgy, and when she swims, she wears huge goggles over her glasses. Mom once said that her parents should never have named her Chloe, like someone should have looked past the baby covered in placenta drippings and figured out that the name wouldn’t suit her as a teen.
    “Oh please, Julie.” She waves her hand dismissively. “Don’t act all dumb and innocent. It’s not becoming on you.”
    Here we go.
    “Honestly, I feel sorry for Chloe.” Mom takes another nibble of carrot. “What kind of mother lets her daughter prance around looking like … like … that ? You, for instance, will not be wearing any skimpy bathing suits. We’ll get you one of those fancy kinds that pull everything in and a little skirt to mask everything else.” Large bite of carrot and it’s gone. She frowns and opens a new bag.
    Here’s the thing. My plan is to go to the party and sit on a recliner and eat chips and pizza. The thought of putting on any kind of bathing suit, thinning or not, is not on my agenda. And honestly, I think it’s cool that Chloe never cares about what anyone else thinks. People come to her parties. Sure, not the most popular crowd, but a good bunch and it’s always fun.
    I open my mouth to tell my mother all of this and more. To tell her I don’t care about what people think, either. To tell her I don’t care what she thinks. But something else comes out instead.
    “Sure,” I say, grabbing one of her carrots. “That would be perfect. Maybe a black one.” I nibble on the carrot and my mom smiles.
    I smile back because I know the real truth. I’m not Chloe. I care too much.

Katie
     
    T hree days until the lake house and it’s all I care about. My suitcase is packed and I keep closing my eyes, hoping to fall asleep and wake up when it’s time to leave.
    “Katie,” says my mother, stopping at the doorway of my room. “What are you doing? Julie is at a pool party. Why aren’t you out painting the town?”
    I close my eyes again and rub my temples, hoping she’ll disappear. I don’t want parties where my mouth hurts from fake smiles and laughs. Where I can run into reminders of the past. “Home Depot ran out of colors I like.”
    Mom frowns. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Then she smiles in her inviting way. I can almost see the signals from her brain to her mouth, telling it to be kind. She sits on my bed and strokes my hair. “Something happen you want to talk about? Were the other girls jealous? It’s a way of life, I’m afraid.”
    Away away away . Her, me, I don’t care. Just so long as I don’t have to listen.
    I turn away from her, but she keeps talking. “I understand,” she whispers. “Looking like we do has its price. But it’s who we are.”
    It’s all we are. That’s what she’d like to say. Capitalize on your looks. I wonder sometimes if that is all that people will ever see when they look at me. On those days, I hold on tightest to that spot on the pyramid, the spot that people still think belongs to me. Like I’m same girl I was. On those days, cheerleading practice is all me. I cheer extra loud, smile extra wide, jump extra high. When the glitter falls, I pocket the stray pieces that cascade off my hair instead of letting them fall to the ground.
    Those days, I want to text Alex and ask him to talk to me like a normal person. Like someone who knows a different Katie than everyone here knows. Not even a Katie. Katya.
    But we don’t talk during the year. There’s something appealing about having our separate worlds and lives, me knowing nothing of his Philadelphia world, he not knowing the Katie who now lives in darkness while pretending to be in the light.
    My mother grows silent and leaves, I think for good, but she’s back minutes later, frame in