Her white blouse was ripped at the shoulder, and her long, pink skirt that flowed around her legs, down to her white tennis shoes was covered in dirt stains. I bit down hard, hoping like hell we could get those stains out. She loved that skirt so fucking much, and I still remembered the happy dance she did when she found it in Sam’s thrift store last spring. My eyes dropped to her shoes, studying them as my heart drummed in my ears. They had a hole them, and I was doing all I could to save up so I could get her a new pair. I couldn’t give her money—not again. The last time, her momma found it
...more
