room. Mrs. Hawkins told Sharon to loan me pajamas and soap for the night, and said she’d pick up a toothbrush and clean underwear for me in the morning. I smiled in gratitude while, next to her, Sharon turned bright red.
Before I could ask whether Sharon felt awkward about sharing a room with me, Peter was standing in the doorway, grinning. “You got it! I told Javi and Rosa you’re trustworthy and you could start right away, and they want you to come in with me for a test shift tonight. If you do all right, the job’s yours.”
“Tonight? Wow. Uh, that’s great.” Now I was the one who felt awkward. “Thanks, Peter, that’s nice of you. It’s only that I’ve, well…never worked in a grocery store before. Or, um. Any kind of store.”
“You’ll be fine.” Sharon smiled at me. “Sweeping’s easy. Just aim for the dustpan.”
I forced a laugh.
“Come on, Tammy.” Peter motioned for me to come with him.
“Er…” I glanced down at my rumpled pants.
“You should change first,” Mrs. Hawkins said firmly. “Sharon, loan her something to wear, maybe your…no, that won’t do any good, all your pants will be too short. Come with me, Tammy, I’ve got something that’ll fit.”
Mrs. Hawkins led me down the hall and started pulling things out of a closet. I turned back, hoping to catch Sharon’s eye, but she and Peter were still in her room. Sharon was closing the door behind them.
I wished I could hear what they were talking about. Peter seemed glad to have me here, but I wasn’t sure about Sharon. She was thinking a lot, but saying less.
I wound up wearing one of Mrs. Hawkins’s sweatshirts and a pair of jeans that had once been Peter’s. When I pulled my hair back, I barely recognized myself in the mirror.
Maybe I could get it cut now that I was here. Different clothes, different hair—different me.
“Looking good, Tammy.” Peter smiled when he emerged from Sharon’s room. “Ready?”
“I guess.” I was still nervous, and more tired than ever, but I smiled back at him. “Did you tell them I don’t know how to sweep?”
“Your secret’s safe with me.” He grinned.
We walked to the store instead of driving—people walk places here; I guess I should’ve known that—and it wound up being a lot less intimidating than I’d expected. Javi and Rosa were both incredibly nice, and cleaning and stocking the shelves wasn’t so bad. Better than lifeguarding. No snotty kids to yell at, and no sunburn, either.
At the end of the night, Rosa offered me the job and gave me fifteen dollars out of the register. That’s more per hour than what I’ll get paid after this, but she said since I was new in town, she was giving me a tip on top of tonight’s pay.
I had to fight not to cry again. Up until she’d handed me that fifteen dollars, what was left of my cash had been reduced to a couple of quarters tucked into the seam of my purse.
When we got home, Sharon was on the couch, watching TV and writing in a notebook. She glanced up and gave us a half smile, but Peter just waved to her and gestured for me to follow him upstairs. When we got to the top, he whispered that Sharon didn’t like to be interrupted when she was writing in her diary.
Well, Harvey, since Sharon’s writing in her diary, I figured I’d do the same thing. I’ve been carrying this notebook and my aunt’s old check register around in my purse for months. I thought I was being paranoid, keeping them hidden, but I guess I made the right call.
It’s late now, though, and there’s no sign of Sharon. I’m ready to pass out on this foam pallet any second now.
I wonder if she’s writing about me. I wonder what she wants to say to her diary that she doesn’t want to say out loud. I stopped writing to you, Harvey, when I started writing everything to her, but maybe now that we’re in the same place, things are changing again.
I have no idea