“For the past forever minutes, people have been so belittling to you.”

“What? No, they haven’t. They are just giving me their prayers.”

“With prayers like that, who needs curses?”

Her eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about, Jackson?”

“Everyone in town has been eating you alive over the past few days, and you’re just allowing it to happen.”

“Have you been watching me?”

“No.”

Yes.

Maybe.

She cleared her throat. “Well, all I’m saying is, you don’t know these people like I do. They are just being caring, that’s all.”

“They are abusing you, and you’re freely allowing it!” I barked, annoyed by how ignorant she was being. They were pretty much spitting in her face, and she was pretending it wasn’t happening.

“Why do you even care, Jackson?” she wondered out loud, raising an eyebrow.

“I don’t,” I snapped.

“Then why are you standing here talking about it?”

I released a low growl. “You’re right. Go ahead, let them mock you to your face. Let them treat you like shit, look down on you, and suck you dry of all your energy. But when the day comes that you’re burnt the complete fuck out, remember I told you so.”

“How can you be so sure about that, huh? How can you be so positive that people are using me?”

“Because I know how people work. They think so little of you, and you know why?”

“Why?” she asked, her voice unsteady.

“Because you think so little of yourself. People only treat you the way you treat yourself. And I know exactly what they are going to do to you if you keep this up.” I leaned in closer to her, and our eyes stayed locked. We were so close that I felt her uneven breaths against my skin, and I was certain she felt mine. “They’re gonna bleed you out till you’re nothing, and then they’re gonna ask how you died.”

She swallowed hard, and her eyes watered over, but she stood as tall as she could and tried her best to hide the trembling in her hands as she held her flowers.

“Let me guess,” I said. “This is the part where you cry.”

“Yes.” She nodded slow, taking a deep breath. “And this is the part where you leave.”

The corner of my mouth twitched, and I turned to walk away when she called me once more. “Why do you treat yourself like that?”

“Like what?” I asked.

“You said people treat you the way you treat yourself. Then why do you choose to treat yourself like a monster?”

Her words pushed me, and I almost wavered. “Because that’s exactly what I am.”

*

Jackson Eight Years Old

“This is stupid!” I snapped, knocking my canvas over in the open field as Ma tried to teach me a new technique for the sunset. She’d been showing me for over an hour, and I couldn’t do it. It was stupid, and art was stupid, and I was done with it all.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Ma remarked, arching her eyebrow. “What was that? Since when do we act out like that?”

“I can’t do it! I don’t want to do this,” I said, swallowing hard. I was angry, and I didn’t want to paint anymore. I just wanted to go home.

Not to our new home, but our old one.

The one where I had a few friends.

“What’s wrong?” Ma asked.

“Nothing.”

“Jackson, what is it? I know you’re not mad at the painting, because you were doing great. So tell me the truth. What’s wrong?”

I took a deep breath. “I don’t understand why we have to live in this stupid town! Nobody likes me, and they just pick on me about everything. I hate it here, and I want to move!”

“Are people bullying you again?” she asked me.

Tears fell from my eyes. She said “again” like everyone had stopped bullying me at some point. I was tired of people judging me for how I looked. I was tired of people laughing at me because sometimes I couldn’t score a goal in gym class. I was tired of not fitting in.

I was tired.

“Come here,” she told me.

“No.”

“Jackson Paul.”

I sighed.

I walked over to her and she took my hands into hers. “What are you?” she asked me.

I mumbled a word.

“Louder,” Ma said.

“I said I’m extraordinary.”

“That’s right, and even on the bad days, you are extraordinary. These mean people, they don’t get to run you away. They don’t get to hurt you, and come Monday, I’ll be marching down to the school to talk to the principal about doing something about this. But we are staying in this town.”

“Why?”

“Because we don’t run. We don’t let people run us away. We have a right to be here, to be happy, and that’s exactly what we are going to do, okay? We are going to be happy.”

I sniffled. “Okay.”

“And you are going to get this technique down tonight. Do you know why?”

I sniffled. “Because I’m extraordinary?”

“Yes, my love. You. Are. Extraordinary.”

12

Grace

Finn had been calling me each day, but I never answered. Every time he left a voice message, I deleted it. I knew if I listened to his voice, I would miss him, and he didn’t deserve to be missed. My brain understood that fact, yet my heart had its own thoughts on the subject. Avoiding him was the best option for me.

I did my best to keep to myself. When I went to The Silent Bookshop, Jackson was normally there, yet we didn’t interact. He sat in the far-left corner of the shop while I sat at the table in the far-right.

Sometimes, we’d cross paths while searching for books, but he made it his mission not to look my way, so I did my best to stay out of his way, too.

Something about him made me so uneasy. The way he approached me in the marketplace was so odd. He came off so aggressive but also protective all at once, and it gave my head the biggest migraine.

I did catch him one afternoon with Tucker, and Josie wasn’t lying—it made my heart swell. I was walking through Kap Park when he and Tucker arrived. Tucker seemed to have trouble walking on his own, so Jackson carried him in his arms. Jackson wore a backpack, and once they found a spot in the sun, he pulled out a blanket and chew toys for Tucker. He laid his old faithful down on the blanket and just sat with his dog. Every now and then, he’d pet Tucker’s back, and say, “Good boy.” It almost looked as if Tucker was smiling as he slowly wagged his tail and rested.

Jackson cared for his dog with nothing but love. I didn’t know a man like him could care for something in that way. His love was so quiet, yet somehow so loud. The way he loved Tucker was the way every person should’ve been loved: unconditionally.

When he looked up and saw me watching them, I started walking away fast.

He didn’t look at me the same way he looked at Tucker.

When Jackson’s eyes locked with mine, I only saw hate.

*

On Friday evening, Judy joined me at the bookshop, something she never did. Yet she’d been very close since I’d been back to town, making sure I was okay. She wasn’t as big on reading as I was, so she casually flipped through some pages as we sat in my corner.

“We can go,” I whispered, watching my sister twiddle her thumbs from boredom as she leaned back in her chair.

“Shh…” she scolded me. “Silence is golden.”

I laughed. “You’re bored out of your mind.”

“What are you talking about? This is the best. Books and words, words and books. It’s amazing.”

A person shushed us from afar, and we couldn’t help but snicker some more. “Want to go get ice cream?”

Her eyes widened with glee. “Now you’re speaking my language.”

As we began to walk away, I glanced in the direction of Jackson’s corner and noticed he was gone. I wondered what books he’d taken with him that night.

Then I wondered why I wondered.

We walked the streets of Chester, Judy talking about how the planning for the Peach Festival was coming along, and I was listening closely until my eye caught a crowd of teenagers, laughing and throwing items at something. A few had a garbage bin in their hands and dumped it upside down on the thing. The closer I drew, the more nervous I became.

They weren’t throwing trash at something—they were hitting someone.

“Hey!” I shouted, hurrying over. “Stop that!” I ordered. The second the kids turned around and saw me, they took off running in different directions. As I neared the individual covered in trash, I became concerned.

“Mr. Emery, are you okay…?” I asked, bending down to help him up.

He was completely plastered, and the smell of whiskey and urine was strong. He’d wet his pants. Oh no…

“Is he okay?” Judy asked, her voice shaky.

“Mr. Emery, let me help you up,” I said as he batted his hand at me.

“Leave me alone!” he barked.

“But, here. I can help you get home, and—”

“I said piss off, b-b-bitch!” he hollered, slurring his words. I didn’t take offense to them, though. I doubted he even knew who I was at the moment. His eyes were hardly opened. He was so far gone.

“Grace, maybe we should just let him be…” Judy whispered, her voice shaky with nerves.

“I’m not going to leave him here,” I told her.