The Hoodie Story
1623 Words
Amy POV
The second morning, Bennie was there again.
Different coffee. Same look.
I wasn’t on the verge of a panic attack anymore, but it still felt strange. Unfamiliar. Too familiar. Like my brain couldn’t decide whether to file him under old enemy or active threat to my sanity.
“You’re making this a habit,” I said, eyeing the cup.
“Don’t get used to it.”
“Too late.”
He looked me over in that slow, irritating way that made me want to both fix my hair and shove him off the balcony.
“You look worse.”
I stared at him. “Wow. You’re a poet. Do you work on these insults or do they just come naturally? The kids need me and I need to graduate college. I can rest in the summer after becoming a teacher."
Before he could say anything else, Austin burst out of the apartment like a golden retriever in human form, camera bag slung over his shoulder and way too much energy for that hour of the morning.
“Okay, listen,” he said, already talking too fast. “Big news. Ron’s Surf Shop wants me to do their new promotional photos.”
I blinked. “The Ron’s Surf Shop? The huge one by the pier?”
“The huge one,” he said, grinning like he’d just been told he won the lottery.
“That’s… actually really big,” I said.
“I know!” he said. “And I want it to look real. Like actual people. Not just mannequins and sad surfboards.”
Bennie raised an eyebrow. “So what does that have to do with us?”
“I need help,” Austin said. “And models.”
I choked on absolutely nothing. “Models?”
“Yes. Normal people. Beach people. Humans with limbs.”
“Wow,” I said. “Your standards are inspiring.”
“And good news,” he added, pointing at me, “you’re off Saturday, Sunday, and Monday. So you’re helping.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Was that a request or a question?”
“ Request, but you love me.”
“Debatable.”
“And Bennie,” Austin said, turning to him, “you’re helping too.”
Bennie shrugged. “Sure.”
Then Austin turned back to me. “Bring Savannah.”
“Okay.”
“And maybe… Cassandra.”
I froze.
“…Cassandra from work?”
“Yeah,” Austin said. “Didn’t you say she’s nice?”
Nice.
Sure.
Also built like a literal hourglass with legs for days and the kind of curves that made mirrors flirt back.
My brain immediately went: Oh. So we’re doing this. We’re doing a swimsuit situation next to THAT.
I looked down at my own body.
I had curves.
Respectable curves.
But Cassandra had capital C Curves.
The kind that get their own fan club.
The kind that make you reconsider carbs.
I smiled. “Great. Love that. Fantastic. I will simply pass away.”
Bennie glanced at me. “You don’t have to—”
“I’m fine,” I said quickly. “Totally fine. I love beaches. And crowds. And being compared to other women in minimal clothing. It’s my favorite hobby.”
Austin didn’t notice a single ounce of this emotional breakdown. “Perfect!” he said. “Sunday morning. Ron’s Surf Shop. Tell them to come.”
“Sure,” I said, already dreading every swimsuit I owned.
Bennie gave me a look like he wanted to say something, but he just shook his head and handed me the coffee. “Try not to fall asleep standing up.”
“I will trip you with my car.”
He smirked. “Still feisty.”
“Still annoying.”
Austin sighed happily. “God, I missed this.”
I shook my head and walked toward my car, already exhausted and I hadn’t even started work yet. And now, apparently, I was going to be in a swimsuit.
Near Cassandra.
Fantastic.
By the time I got to the shelter, I’d worked myself into a mild panic and sent three texts to Savannah. Emergency. You’re modeling for my brother. Bring moral support and possibly a weapon.
She replied almost immediately. Do I get paid in food?
Always, I texted back.
Then, during our first break, I found Cassandra in the staff room and mentioned it. “Hey, um… my brother is doing a shoot for Ron’s Surf Shop on Sunday and he needs people. Do you want to come?” Her face lit up like I’d just offered her a free vacation.
“Really? Yes! Oh my God, yes. Is your brother going to be there?”
“Yes,” I said cautiously.
“And his friend, Benjamin? The tall one you were talking about yesterday?”
Ew.
“Yes,” I said again, more flatly.
She started asking a million questions. Were they single? Were they nice? Did they surf? Did my brother work out?
I regretted everything.
Deeply.
By the time we got back to the floor, I was already tired of Sunday and it was only Wednesday. Which is probably why I had exactly zero patience left when the shoe war happened.
Hailey and another girl living at the shelter, Kira, were arguing over a pair of sneakers. Hailey insisted they were hers because she’d written her initials on the bottom. Kira insisted they weren’t, and honestly, I think she just wanted to watch Hailey explode.
She did.
Crying. Screaming. Throwing a pillow. Kicking a chair. Yelling about how nobody ever listened and everybody always took her stuff.
Cassandra was already reaching for the clipboard. “Okay, that’s it. We’re doing restriction—”
I gently touched her arm. “Let me try first.”
She hesitated.
Then nodded.
I sat down on the floor in front of Hailey. “Alright,” I said. “You’re mad. That makes sense. So now you’re going to tell me everything.”
“I don’t want to talk.”
“Cool,” I said. “Then I’ll talk.”
And I told her the hoodie story.
“Once upon a time,” I said dramatically, “there was a very grumpy girl who had exactly one hoodie in the entire world.”
Hailey rolled her eyes. “This is stupid.”
“Ah,” I said. “See? That’s how you know it’s a good story.”
Cassandra snorted behind me.
“It wasn’t even my hoodie,” I continued. “It belonged to this very tall, very annoying boy. But it was warm, and it was mine, and Florida does get cold sometimes even if people lie about it.”
Hailey crossed her arms. “Let me guess… someone stole it?”
“Oh yes,” I said. “Enter: my foster sister, Stacy. A professional thief of joy.”
Cassandra chimed in, “She sounds awful.”
“She was,” I said. “When I tried to get it back, the adults yelled at me. Something about how I am always causing problems and issues in the house. That I should just let it go because it wasn’t mine to begin with. Because obviously that all makes sense.” I rolled my eyes.
“That’s dumb,” Hailey muttered.
“Extremely,” I agreed. “So I didn’t scream. I didn’t cry. I waited.”
Hailey squinted. “That sounds suspicious.”
“One night,” I said, lowering my voice dramatically, “I snuck under her bed and stole it back.”
Cassandra gasped. “Rebel.”
“I know,” I said. “Try not to be too impressed.”
Hailey was watching now.
“The next morning, I left early with my brother so she wouldn’t catch me. And this very tall, very annoying boy was walking behind us and listening.”
“Was he your boyfriend?” Hailey asked.
“No,” I said immediately. “He was my problem.”
Cassandra laughed.
“When Stacy realized what happened,” I said, “she came running outside and tried to grab it off me.”
Hailey sat up. “What happened?”
“My brother stepped in,” I said. “But the boy was the one that saved me. He said—” I deepened my voice. “‘That’s my hoodie. I’m letting her wear it. Touch it again and you’ll regret it.’”
Hailey’s eyes went wide. “He said that?”
“Oh yes.”
Cassandra smiled. “That’s actually kind of amazing.”
“It was,” I admitted. “She backed off. My brother put his arm around me. And we walked to school like nothing happened.”
“So,” Hailey said slowly, “you were sneaky.”
“For survival,” I said. “Not for hurting people.”
She thought about that.
Then nodded once.
Cassandra had been quiet for a moment.
Then she said, “You know… I had a jacket like that once. My cousin took it and my mom told me to stop being dramatic. I was so mad I didn’t talk to anyone for a week.”
Hailey looked at her. “Did you steal it back?”
Cassandra hesitated. “No.”
Hailey shook her head. “Weak.”
I laughed.
By bedtime, Hailey was calm. Tired. Clinging to her stuffed animal instead of her anger.
After the kids were asleep, Cassandra looked at me and said, “You’re really good with them,” she said. “I want to be like you, you’re so patient.”
“Trust me,” I said. “You don’t.”
- Writer
