Naomi POV
One of my earliest memories of my life was of the ones where I would be the most shabbily and poorly dressed girl in school.
Ultimately, my appearance became the reason for me to be extremely popular at school.
Not because they liked me. Because they laughed at me.
I remember the comments. The whispers. The pointing fingers.
"Look at her skirt. It has patches."
"Her shoes have holes."
"She smells like smoke. Her mother must be poor."
I would go home and cry. My mother would hold me.
"They do not know you, baby. You are worth more than clothes."
But I did not believe her.
I believed the bullies.
Now, sitting in the garden with Alex, I think about those days.
I am not that girl anymore. But I still carry her inside me.
The sun is warm. The grass is green. Alex draws o
