"So, pickles or not?" Bill asked holding up a can.

"Umm…I don't care." Lina shook her head.

"Do you like Pickles?" Bill asked.

"Not particularly." Lina said.

"Do you like Sweet Pickles or Dill pickles better?" Bill asked.

"Did you know that in English, Dill, Bill, Till, Kill and Fill rhymes?" Lina asked.

"Really? I never really thought about that." Bill said putting the pickles down in the basket.

"I met a guy once, his name was Till, he went to the US as a foreign exchange student, he said he liked the word Kill 'cause it rimed with his name." Lina said.

Bill raised an eyebrow.

Lina sighed in slight relief, Bill was so easy to distract.

Lina shifted her hoodie over her body and hugged it around herself.

"You still didn't answer my question." Bill stated, they moved down the aisle as he picked up a can of Devon mustard.

"What question?" Lina mumbled.

"What sort of pickles you like?" Bill asked as he smirked at her.

She raised an eyebrow.

"I don't have a preference." Lina said slowly. "They're just pickles."

"Well…No, that's not true, I do have a preference. I like cucumbers better then pickles."

Bill let out a snort and kept walking.

Lina trailed behind him picking idly at her nails.

"Why won't you talk to me?" Bill asked.

"I've talked to you plenty of times." Lina said.

"No, you have only talked to me fifteen times in the last week." Bill said.

"You've counted?" Lina asked.

"Yes, yes I have!" he nodded smartly as someone ran up for an autograph; he smiled and signed it before the girl ran off.

Lina rolled her eyes.

"It's not like we're gonna beat you or anything." Bill said as he idly picked up a loaf of bread.

His eyes shot open the moment he realized what he said.

He turned to apologize to Lina but she was reading the label on a jar of capers.

"Sorry." He said.

Lina looked up.

"Sorry for what?" She looked in question.

"For what I said," Bill mumbled.

"Well…I want paying attention so whatever."

Bill sighed a little grateful sigh on the inside.

"Mom wants some oatmeal." He said, rushing off to the oatmeal.

Lina walked behind him, trying to hold back tears from what he had said.

She knew he meant well.
But the words still hurt.

"So…tell me about yourself." Bill said.

"There isn't much to tell." Lina said as she tiled her head again as she read something.

"There has to be something." Bill said.

"Nope." Lina said, still looking at the sigh oddly.

"How old are you?" Bill asked.

"Seventeen." Lina said "And a half."

"What's your favorite band?" Bill asked, moving down the line.

"I like Nena, And Samy Deluxe, and Green Day and Kanye West and Justin Nozuka and Twisted Sister and AC/DC and Joan Jett And The Black Hearts, But I'm playing a lot of Keane at the moment." Lina said, once again, using twice as many words as was necessary.

"You have good taste!" Bill all but shouted.

"You like all those?"

"Yeah! Nena and Keane. The best though!" Bill said.

"They are good." Lina nodded.

"Do you like music a lot?" Bill asked.

He was safe with music, he knew music.

"Yes, I like it a lot." Lina nodded. "I don't see how one could not like music."

Bill laughed.

"I like you." He stated as he picked up the oat meal.

Lina rolled her eyes.

"You need to talk more." He said matter of factly.

"What ever you say." Lina said rolling her eyes.