Flat-Out Love by Jessica Park (1)

 

Flat-Out Love

 

By Jessica Park

 

 

Copyright © 2011 by Jessica Park

 

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

License Notes:

This efiction is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This efiction may not be re-sold. If you would like to share, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this efiction and it was not purchased for your exclusive use, then you should purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of all authors, and helping the e-reading community to grow!

Cover art by Robyn Hyzy: www.robynhyzy.com

 

Visit Jessica at her sites: http://flatoutlove.blogspot.com http://yaauthorjessicapark.blogspot.com  and  http://whatthekidsays.blogspot.com

 

 

 

 

For Lori, who makes her own hinges.

 

Acknowledgments:

 

Tremendous thanks to my entire family for putting up with my obsessive demeanor (and occasional lack of showering) while writing this book. A special thanks to my dad, who put on his psychotherapist hat while reading my manuscript and took copious and helpful notes. I love you, Daddy.

A gazillion hugs to Jessica Whitney, who always calls me “sweet girl” when I need it the most. Everyone should have such a delightful co-conspirator.

Lori Gondelman has obtained goddess status. She proof-read chapters, offered endless encouragement, yelled at me to write faster, told me what should stay and what should go, and mailed me bags of Dunkin’ Donuts coffee so I that could throw myself into a caffeine high and write until midnight. I suspect that she would have held my hand as I wrote would it not have interfered with typing. No one could have done more, and I am impossibly grateful for her unfailing belief in this book and in me.

Christy Poser shared her skydiving experiences with me via telephone and even sent DVD copies of her jumps. Although she is obviously a freakish daredevil, Julie owes her one. As do I.

Authors Karen MacInerney and Heather Webber are simply brilliant. Both pointed me in the right direction and managed not to be obnoxious about how right they were. They are total smarties, talented writers, and fabulous friends.

Thank you to Meg Travis, Shelly Toler Franz, Caitlyn Henderson, Carrie Spellman, and Pixie Poe for reading various versions of the outline and manuscript and showering me with support. I’ve known Meg since junior high, and she is as unforgettable now as she was then. Shelly and Caitlyn are both an author’s dream and proof that Facebook friends are, in fact, real friends. Carrie is a trusted reader and reviewer, and her glowing words were the boost I needed to finish the book. Not only is Pixie a book fiend, but she has a cool name and owns a pink Christmas tree. What more can a girl ask for in a friend?

The obscenely brilliant Adam Conner-Sax deciphered MIT speak and put up with my babbling as I figured out my characters. As he has his entire life, he showed himself to be warm, adorable, and frighteningly well-rounded.

A captain’s nod to Jonathan Slavin, who enjoys every “Jaws” movie as much as I do.

The incomparable and devastatingly funny David Pacheco was generous enough to provide the large majority of the status updates for the book. (Dave, pay attention; this is where you are getting credit for your genius.) He patiently tolerated my many questions and answered them all with more attention and humor than they deserved. As a thank you, I will be sending him a zombie, a time travel machine, a ledger for the Procrastinator’s Club, and a spray-cheese sandwich. Follow him on Twitter @whatdoIknow if you think you can keep up. But don’t worry, most of us can’t.

Carmen Comeaux and Jim Thompson were both kind enough to do fantastic editing work on a very rough manuscript. Carmen bravely forged ahead, even when my grammatical errors caused her to write “Horrors!” in the margins. And Jim will hereby be known as “The Hyphen King.” You two are impeccable, tough, and outrageously skilled.

Brian Yagel did everything from give me real life technical support to spout off geeky terminology that I still don’t totally understand. But it made sense to him. And he managed to remain charming even when saying things like, “third party app” and “console logs.” Enjoy your two minutes for those FB updates, kiddo.

 

 

 

 

 

Flat-Out Love

 

It’s not what you know—or when you see—that matters. It’s about the journey.

 

 

PART ONE

 

 

Chapter 1

 

Julie Seagle stared straight ahead and promised herself one thing: She would never again rent an apartment via Craigslist. The strap of her overstuffed suitcase dug into her shoulder, and she let it drop onto the two suitcases that sat on the sidewalk. It wasn’t like she had anywhere to carry them now. Julie squinted in disbelief at the flashing neon sign that touted the best burritos in Boston.  Rereading the printout of the email again did nothing to change things. Yup, this was the correct address. While she did love a good burrito, and the small restaurant had a certain charm about it, it seemed pretty clear that the one-story building did not include a three-bedroom apartment that could house college students. She sighed and pulled her cell phone from her purse.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Honey! I gather you made it to Boston? Ohio is missing you already. I can’t believe you’re already off at college. How is the apartment? Have you met your roommates yet?”

Julie cleared her throat and looked at the flat roof of the restaurant. “The apartment is… airy. It has a very open floor plan.”

“How is your room? Is it tiny?” Her mother sounded concerned. “Well, even if it is, it’s probably better than some concrete dorm room, right?”

“My room? Oh, it’s, uh, rather sparse, I’d say.” Julie sat down on one of her bags. A city bus squealed to a halt just behind her, and she flinched at the high-pitched noise.

“What was that? Is your room right on the street? Oh God, are you on the first floor? That’s dangerous, Julie.  It’s much easier for some criminal to break in. Are there locks on the windows? Let me ask your uncle about that. Maybe there is something you could do to make it more secure.”

“I’m not seeing any windows at the moment, Mom.” Julie felt her eyes begin to tear up. This was a nightmare. She had been in Boston, or more specifically Jamaica Plain, for a mere hour, and already her hopes for a glamorous college life were beginning to smell a lot more like South American specialties than she’d envisioned.  “I don’t seem to actually have a room.”

Her mother paused. “What do you mean you don’t have a room? I sent first, last, and a security deposit just like the landlord asked. A cashier’s check, for God’s sake! He gave away your room?” The rising panic in her mother’s voice was not helping.  

“I’m at the correct address. The taxi driver assured me I was in the right place. But my supposed apartment building is a burrito restaurant.”

“Burritos! Holy mother of God!”

“I know. Burritos are always alarming.” Julie looked around, totally unsure what she should do next. “Mom, what am I going to do?” Although she didn’t want to freak out her mother more than she had to, Julie couldn’t control the waver in her voice. She was alone in an unfamiliar city, knew no one here, and was sitting on a mountain of luggage.

At least the advantage of being stranded on a crowded street was that no one seemed to think she looked at all out of place. Plenty of people had walked by without giving her a second glance. It was the first week of September, and she was in a college town; more than one U-Haul truck could be spotted weaving through traffic, delivering students and their possessions to actual apartments that did not double as restaurants. Julie quickly wiped her eyes and pulled her sunglasses down from her head. She’d give anything to be riding in one of those moving trucks, crammed in with a pile of friends.

“I don’t have anywhere to live. And all that money you spent… This was supposed to be cheaper than the dorms. And it wasn’t supposed to smell like burritos.” Leaving home for the first time, getting scammed into paying for a non-existent apartment, and finding oneself homeless in Boston was proving to be agitating.

“Julie, don’t worry about the money right now. This isn’t your fault. I thought the ad looked perfectly normal, too. You sit tight for a few minutes and I’m going to call the college and see if they can help you, OK? Just hold on. You all right?”

Julie sniffed. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Don’t move. I’ll call you right back and we’ll fix this.”

Julie put in her earphones and passed the next excruciating twenty minutes by listening to morose music, chipping off the deep purple nail polish she’d applied the night before, and updating her Facebook status.

 
Julie Seagle Boston, Day 1: Refuse to refer to city as Beantown as would sound too touristy. Still, am full resident now despite not having actual residence.

 

The pavement radiated heat, and so far this sauna of a city was not winning her over. A little self-pity seemed in order.  All she wanted was a normal college experience and the chance to enjoy school without worrying that her friends would think it was ridiculous that she actually liked learning. She didn’t need to go to the most expensive university in the country, or to the top-rated, be-all-end-all of schools. She just wanted to be free from feeling like she had to hide who she was. It would be nice to finally be comfortable admitting that she was crazy about literature, that she thought curling up with a textbook was soothing, and that she wanted nothing more than to delve into lively classroom discussions. So, wanting a place to live while she started her college career seemed reasonable enough.

Surely Whitney College wouldn’t let a progressively more and more anxious southern Ohio transplant fend for herself on the streets of Boston?  She could always spend the night in a hotel, obviously, but it would certainly be preferable to find a more permanent solution. There must be a few students who changed plans at the last minute, freeing up a dorm room, right? Maybe. Well, the burrito restaurant was hiring, so perhaps this was a sign that she should brush up on her Spanish, cultivate an interest in ethnic cooking…

Julie’s phone barely got out a full ring before she answered. “Mom?”

“That damn college was no help whatsoever. Apparently every school within a thirty-mile radius is in the same awful housing crunch, and Whitney is stuck putting up students in hotels themselves. I had another idea. Do you remember Erin Watkins?”

“Your roommate from college? The big-deal lawyer? I didn’t know you were still friends.”

“Well, we’re not really. I haven’t talked to her in years, but I remember reading in the alumni magazine that she lives in Cambridge. Her note said she was teaching at Harvard now, and by a stroke of luck, I caught her in her office.”

“God, this is embarrassing, but does she know of an apartment?” Julie asked hopefully.

“Well, no. But she insisted that you come and stay with her until you can find a suitable alternative. Her son Matthew is on his way to pick you up. I gave her the address. She says you are not in a good part of town, and it’s a good thing it’s only four o’clock and not getting dark. He’ll be driving a blue Volvo and should be there any minute.”

“OK. Matt. Dangerous town. Blue Volvo. If I get into the wrong car and get myself murdered and dumped in an alley, I want you to know how much I love you. And don’t look in the third drawer of my desk.”

“That’s not funny. Anyway, Matthew goes to MIT. Some sort of physics major. Or was it math? Can you believe that? With Erin’s genes, I shouldn’t be surprised she’d have a genius son.”

“I’m sure he’s incredibly cool. Just the word physics already has me hot and bothered.”

“I’m not running an escort service here, Julie. I’m trying to get you somewhere safe where I will not worry myself silly about you.”

“Yes, Mother. I will find another Boston-based dating service online.” Julie stood up and smoothed the front of her top. She faced the street, relieved to at least be able to stand expectantly waiting for a ride rather than attempting to look anything but misplaced. “When was the last time you even talked to Erin?”

“Years ago. We’ve only spoken a handful of times since graduation. Every now and then I hear something about her. The friends you make in college are friends you’ll have for life, even if you don’t talk for years at a time. You’ll see.” 

A dark car slowed and pulled to a stop, double-parking in front of Julie. “Mom, I have to go. I think this Matt character is here.”

“Are you sure it’s him?”

Julie peered into the car as the window lowered. “I see a maniacal-looking guy with brightly-colored candy in one hand, and he’s waving a bloody sickle with the other. Oh! He’s beckoning me to the car. This must be my ride.”

“Julie, stop it!” her mother ordered. “You have no idea how I feel, knowing that my only child is stranded in Boston. I wish I were there with you. Make sure it’s Matthew. Ask to see his license.”

“I’ll be sure to do that. I’ll call if I make it to the house. I love you, Mom.”

“I love you, too, honey. I’m so sorry about this mess. Thank Erin for me, and I’ll talk to you both later.”

Julie hung up and looked hopefully at the guy rounding the car and walking toward her. “Matt?”

“I’m guessing by the suitcases that you must be Julie? Or else I’m about to kidnap the wrong girl.” He smiled softly and reached out to shake her hand.

He was tall, at least six feet, with dirty blond hair that hung over his eyes. His pale skin told Julie that he hadn’t seen much sun this past summer, and a peek at his T-shirt gave a clue why. The shirt, tucked into his ill-fitting jeans read, Nietzsche Is My Homeboy.  Clearly, he was not a run-with-the-in-crowd kind of guy, and she suspected that he’d been holed up in the library all summer. But he was kind enough to drop whatever he’d been doing to come and get her. Besides, Julie had her geeky moments herself—though she wasn’t dumb enough to announce them on a T-shirt. She hid them. The way any socially skilled person would.

“Thank you so much for picking me up. I really didn’t know what I was going to do. I hope I’m not putting you too much out of your way?” Julie helped Matt load her bags into the trunk of the Volvo and then slid into the front seat. The September sun had heated up the car, and Julie automatically fanned her shirt, trying to get some air flowing across her skin.

“No problem. Sorry it’s so hot. The AC doesn’t work in this car, and no one’s bothered to get it fixed. It’s not a long drive, though.” Matt turned the key to start the car, and a blast of sputtering noises had Julie fearing a longer stay on this now hated street. “Don’t worry. It always does this when I try to start it so soon after turning it off. Just a little more gas… There we go!”

Julie glimpsed at herself in the passenger-side mirror. She looked undeniably haggard. And sweaty. And not sweaty in a way that could be construed as glistening. She ran a finger under each eye, wiping away the brown eyeliner that had started to smear, and quickly tried to smooth out her bangs that were beginning to curl. Her highlighted brown hair was not faring well in this humidity. She wasn’t about to whip out a compact and pat powder over the dusting of freckles that ran across her nose, but she would have preferred to make a better first impression when she showed up to crash at the Watkins’. 

Matt yanked the wheel to the right, narrowly avoiding a speeding car that cut him off. “Welcome to Boston, known primarily for its vehicular aggression.”

“I’m loving it already. Between being ripped off, now broke, without permanent housing, and about to start college, I’m really off to a good start here, huh?” Julie smiled weakly, leaned her head against the window frame, and took in the breeze.

“It could be worse. You could be living at home like I do. And you will love Boston. Any major city has its drawbacks, but Boston is a great place to go to school, so once you get everything straightened out, you will be fine. You’re starting at Whitney?”

“Yeah. It’s not exactly MIT, though,” she said with a teasing smile. “I’m sure Literature 101 can’t compete with, what? Adoration of Differential Equations?”

Matt laughed. “Close. That was last year. This year it’s Obsessive Devotion to Fourier Analysis Theory and Applications. And my personal favorite, Quantum Physics II: Romantic Entanglements of Energy and Matter.”

Julie turned her head to Matt. “You’re a double major? Physics and math? Jesus…”

“I know. Nerdy.” He shrugged.  

“No, I’m impressed. I’m just surprised your brains fit in your head.”

“I was fitted with a specially designed compression filter that allows excessive information to lie dormant until I need to access it. It’s only the Beta version, so excuse any kinks that may appear. I really can’t be held responsible.”

“Thanks for the warning.” Julie nodded seriously. “I don’t know what I’ll major in. Maybe psychology? Or English? Not sure. So, are we still in Jamaica Plain?”

“Nope. Now we’re in Cambridge. And that,” he started, as they turned a corner and went over a bridge, “is the Charles River. This is Memorial Drive, and Harvard Square is right there. We can cut through if you want to see.” Julie nodded eagerly. “There’s a T stop right here, and it’s only a few minutes’ walk from my parents’ house.”

For the first time since the plane had landed, Julie felt excited to be here. The river was gorgeous and dotted with people canoeing and kayaking, their bright vests smattering the water with color. They drove past archways and iron gates, crowded sidewalks, cobbled pathways between buildings, and plenty of shops and restaurants. She liked the busy atmosphere here.

“How far is Whitney? Maybe I could find an apartment around here?”

“Not far on the T. Whitney is in Back Bay which is Boston, not Cambridge, so you’d get off at Hynes. It’s right near Berklee College of Music.”

“Nice. So if I get hit by an impulse to belt out some Lady Gaga, I’ll be able to find some backup singers without any trouble.” Julie frowned at Matt’s blank look. “Lady Gaga? Atrocious headpieces? Shoulder pads galore? Took the music world by storm a few years ago? Skintight outfights with feathers and leather and buckles, oh my? Nothin’?”

“You lost me,” he said. “Well, here we are.” Matt pulled the car into the driveway of a large blue-gray house with white trim and black shutters. This side street was lusciously green with trees and flowing gardens, each gorgeous old house nestled behind a fence or an evergreen hedge. It was hard to believe that they were just off a main road, so close to the bustle of Harvard Square. It didn’t take an MIT student to see that this was an extremely wealthy neighborhood.

“My mother should be home by now. I know she wanted to be here when you arrived. And my father and Celeste are probably on their way home. He had a meeting at her school.”

“Your sister?” Julie guessed.

Matt got out of the car. “Yup. She just turned thirteen. Hope you like take-out for dinner. Nobody here has cooked a real meal in years.”

“As long as it’s not burritos, I’ll be thrilled.”

Matt opened the trunk and then stopped. “Julie? I should probably…” His voice trailed off.

“Yeah?” She looked at Matt. “What is it? Is something wrong? I’m mortified. We’re having burritos, aren’t we?” He shook his head. “Oh. I knew it. Your parents are totally annoyed that I’m getting pushed on them, right? Nobody wants some stranger staying in their house.”

“No. Not at all. It’s just that Celeste is… “ He seemed to struggle to figure out how to say what he wanted. “Well, she’s an interesting kid.”

“I like interesting,” Julie said, pulling a suitcase from the trunk. “I like interesting a lot.”

 

 

Chapter 2

 

Julie considered the possibility that she might have walked into a library rather than a residence. The front hall was lined with white shelves that were absolutely packed with books. And not paperback thrillers.  This was obviously not a house of casual readers. A small room opened off to the right, where a piano took up most of the sunlit space. She followed Matt to the left into the living room and immediately loved the feeling evoked by the décor. Cultural masks and paintings covered the walls, and a globe and a thick world map sat on two end tables that encased a comfortable-looking beige sectional.

Julie couldn’t help but notice the stark contrast between this house and her own. She liked her mother’s affinity for country plaid, yellow walls and yard sale findings, and the way the house was always orderly and clean. Simple, but homey. But as she looked around this room, Julie had to admit that there was something terribly enticing about the cluttered mass of unique statues, bold, patterned pillows and the general aura of academia.

“Matt? Is that you? Did you find her?” A voice rang out from another room and was followed by the sound of quick footsteps. Julie looked up at the relieved face of the woman who entered the room. “Julie Seagle! Are you the spitting image of your mother or what? I’m Erin Watkins. Welcome. Thank goodness your mother was able to reach me.” She crossed the floor and shook Julie’s hand.

“Thank you so much for helping me out. It’s really nice of you to let me stay here tonight. I’m going to look for an apartment first thing in the morning.”

Erin was nearly as tall as Matt, and Julie could feel the bones in Erin’s cool hand. Good Lord, the woman was thin. Not unhealthy-looking, but certainly delicate.  

Erin waved her hand and then brushed back a stray hair from her thick, tightly pinned bun. “I’d do anything for Kate, so you’re more than welcome to stay until you find a place. Speaking of your mother, you should let her know that you’re safe. Let me take you upstairs and show you your room, and then you can call her.”

“I’ll show her.” Matt walked briskly over to Julie’s bags.

“Nonsense. I know you have schoolwork to do. I’ll tell you when your father and Celeste get home with dinner. Julie, follow me.” Erin moved smoothly through the living room and picked up one of Julie’s suitcases. “I hope you’ll be comfortable here. I know you were expecting to move into your apartment today, but at least you’re not at a hotel.”

“Mom, I really need to talk to you.”

“Yes, yes, Matt. Relax,” Erin said.

Julie grabbed her other bags and trailed after Erin, while Matt stood seemingly frozen in place. She turned her head back. “Thanks again for picking me up.”

Matt nodded and rocked back on his heels, his hands in his pockets. “Sure thing.”

Matt seemed nice enough. He was easy to talk to, if not terribly easy on the eyes, and he was certainly smart and had a sense of humor. He was a bit quirky, she supposed, but Julie was pretty good at handling quirky.

Julie made her way up the airy staircase to the second floor. The landing was a roomy open square with four doors that presumably led to bedrooms, and a short hallway off one of side. More bright-white walls and expensive looking artwork.

“You’re right here,” Erin said as she pushed open a door with her shoulder.

The bedroom had a definite masculine feel to it, with dark bedding and wooden shelves and a few books, pictures, stereo equipment, and DVDs. A small flat-screen TV hung across from the bed, and an empty spot on the desk had just enough room for a laptop.

“Make yourself comfortable. The bathroom is right down the hall. I’ll put some fresh towels out for you, and… Oh, this must be Roger calling.” Erin turned her head toward a phone ringing from another room. “Do you like Thai?”

“That’s great. Thank you.”

“Take your time getting settled. There are empty drawers if you want to unpack,” Erin said, backing out of the room to take the call.

Julie sat down on the bed and scanned the room. Yup, this had boy written all over it. Not that she minded. She liked boys after all. But she was looking forward to making a run to Target and picking out her own girlie room accessories with some of the money she had left over from the summer. Thank God she’d won that essay contest the school district had run, or she would have had to use all her savings on a computer. It’d taken her weeks to write her piece on the United States’ responses to natural disasters, but it was not a bad trade for a new Mac laptop. It was a good thing that her friends didn’t follow high school news—unless it had to do with sports, dances, or a battle of the bands—because she would have been teased mercilessly for having participated in such a socially warped endeavor.

The truth was that her friends didn’t entirely get her. Her mom didn’t get her either, although she was certainly proud of how well Julie did in her classes. In fact, her mom had kept secret the fact that Julie had stayed after school to do extra-credit work for her English class.  Her friends would have snorted with laughter. And while Julie had been happy to sacrifice time after school to hear her teacher’s thoughts on Graham Greene, she hadn’t been willing to try to explain to her less academic friends why she had done so. They just didn’t care about school the way she did and half the time didn’t seem to understand what she was talking about. Jared, her ex, would have rolled his eyes at the notion of volunteering to spend more time studying.

Speaking of Jared, Julie wondered what he was doing right now. Probably sporting a toga and doing keg stands at the miserable state university he was attending. Asshole. She hoped he was lost in a crowd of dumb jocks and getting rejected by every busty, tank-top-wearing, fake-tanned airhead he hit on. Arizona could have him. And yet, Julie couldn’t resist seeing if he’d commented on her Facebook status.

She set her laptop on the desk and turned it on. Yes, she had her fancy phone; she just wasn’t a big fan of typing on the miniature keyboard if she didn’t have to. She liked capital letters and some semblance of punctuation, and the margin for error on the handheld device was too great. Julie was a traditional typist.

She realized that she needed a password to access the Watkins’ network. Great. She’d intruded on their house and now needed to ask for this. Internet access came before pride. Julie caught Erin as she was getting off the phone.

“Mrs. Watkins? I hate to bother you, but I was wondering if I could get the password to go online?”

“Call me Erin. Please. And of course you can. Let me get it from Matthew. He generated a random, meaningless code so that none of the neighbors would be able to pilfer our service. He is our own private securities expert. Hold on.” Erin disappeared for a moment and returned holding a scrap of paper.

“Thank you.” Julie took the paper and looked at the fifteen-digit password. Paranoid much? No one could remember this. Except, it seems, Matthew.

“I’ll let you know when dinner is here.” Erin shut the door.

Julie opened her Facebook profile page and frowned. Already eight comments under her status from concerned friends who actually gave a damn about her (“What happened????” “What R U going to do?” “Ack! Call me!”), but nothing from Jared. She clicked on his page. Huh. Well, it was nice that he had the time to post pictures of himself from his first days at college, yet hadn’t bothered to call or email her since he’d dumped her a month before they’d both left for college.

Jared had up and announced that they shouldn’t even attempt to maintain a long-distance relationship, and so he was preemptively breaking up with her. Not that it really mattered. Julie had no doubt that Jared was the classic case of a boy satisfying his homosexual impulses by participating in close-contact sports. God, how many times had she sat on the sidelines of one of his wrestling matches, applauding wildly while he ground his body against another spandex-wearing wrestler, a look of glee plastered across his face? No wonder he’d earned a wrestling scholarship. Some other girl could put up with his fumbling attempts to appear heterosexual, his big tongue pulsing disgustingly in her mouth, and his overly enthusiastic murmuring as he groped under her shirt. Good riddance. Julie may have been dumb enough to go out with him, but at least she’d never been dumb enough to sleep with him. Had he even been able to fake his way through it.

Julie should have dumped him herself months ago.

Now she was out of small-town Ohio, out of that below-average high school, and out of a social circle dominated by girls blindly cheering on their sports-playing boyfriends.

Boston could be different. It would be different. She could be who she was without worrying about dumbing down her vocabulary or hiding her interest in school.

Julie took a last peek at Jared and his new college-wrestling buddies, silently wished him well (or mostly well), and promptly removed him from her list of friends. Her new status update?

Julie Seagle Have survived streets of Boston with no permanent injury (save for crushing ego blow regarding stupidity of renting unseen room via nefarious internet site) and am currently in safe haven.

 

Julie leaned back in the desk chair. She hesitated for a moment, then checked the Gmail account that she’d set up. Her father was the only person who had that email address, and her inbox was empty. He’d write when he had time. She closed the laptop.

She sighed, blew her bangs out of her eyes, and picked up a framed picture from the desk. The photo was of someone bundled up in winter gear on a snowy hillside, snowboard in hand. It didn’t look like Matt, although it was hard to make out who it might be in the blurry picture.

Julie unpacked a few things from her suitcase, folding her clothes neatly and setting them into the dresser and hanging a few casual dresses in the closet. As much as she hated to keep all her clothes stuffed into suitcases, where they were getting permanently wrinkled, it didn’t seem right to unpack everything she had as though she were moving in for the long haul.  

After dinner she would go online and start trying to find somewhere to live. Whitney’s freshman orientation was on Thursday, so that gave her all day tomorrow to come up with something. She’d really love to take care of this quickly, and, in a city this big, there simply had to be something decent available.

She glared at her reflection in the mirror and quickly rifled through her luggage until she located her makeup bag and flat iron. A few minutes later, she practically resembled a normal human being again. Maybe not by cheerleader standards, but she’d get through dinner without frightening anyone and then take a good long shower before bed.

“Julie? Do you need anything?” Matt knocked as he opened the door.

“I thought you were supposed to be studying,” she teased. “Thanks, I’m all set. Whose room am I in, by the way?”

“Finn’s.” He stared over her shoulder, looking vacantly into the room. “He’s away. Traveling.”

“Finn is your brother?”

“Yup. He’s my brother.”

Julie smiled. God, Matt was so… odd. “Older or younger?” she prompted.

“Older. By two years.”

“Making him…?”

He dropped his head, his hair falling over his eye, and laughed softly. “Twenty-three.”

“So you’re twenty-one. And a junior? When is your birthday? Did you take a year off from school after high school?”

“I did. You know, you seem to have your own interest in math. This flagrant fascination with numbers might mean you’re headed for a new major.”

Julie crossed her arms. “Unlikely. I haven’t been fitted with your newfangled compression filter.”

“I could put in a good word with the developer. Maybe get you on the list for the next model?”

“I’ll pass, but thanks.”

“Yeah. This beta version still needs some tweaking.”

Julie smiled. “No kidding. But it’s all right.”

 

 

Chapter 3

 

“Dinner will be here in a few minutes. You must be ravenous.” Erin reached into a kitchen cabinet and retrieved a stack of ceramic plates. She had changed into a linen vest and dark jeans, and retightened her long hair into a neat twist at the nape of her neck.

The air conditioning in the house relieved the heavy air Julie had been suffering through all day, and she knew she should enjoy it while she could; the odds of renting an apartment with central AC were extremely unlikely. Julie took the plates from Erin. “I’ll do this.”

“Thanks. Matthew has the placemats and silverware.” She nodded her head toward the dining room. “Oh, Julie? Did you reach your mother?”

“I did. And she asked me to thank you again.”

“No more thanks necessary. It’s a good thing she hadn’t shipped out the rest of your things yet. They would be sitting on a street corner. I told her to just send everything here, and Matthew can help you move them when you find a place.”

Julie moved to the dining room as Matt set down the last fork. She set the plates on the table and frowned as she re-counted the setting. “There’ll be five of us, right? You, me, Erin, your dad, and Celeste? We’ve got an extra place set.” Julie went to remove the plate.

“No. Just… um…” Matt cleared his throat. “Just leave that one. I should probably tell you,” he started, while busying himself with the napkins, “that Celeste has this thing she does. She has this… I guess, it would be considered…”

Julie waited while he started and stopped a few times, and finally she leaned in to whisper, “I’ll need to hear more actual words in order to understand you.”

“I don’t know how to explain it to you.” He sighed. “Celeste—” The front door opened and Matt mumbled something.

Julie looked questioningly at him. “What?”

He shook his head. “Just try to go with it.”

 

**********

 

Well, the food was good. Cambridge Thai restaurants had a clear win over the single Thai restaurant back home that served generous portions of distinctly unappetizing dishes. And the company was entertaining, if not alternately overwhelming or altogether intelligible.

Erin had kept up a stream of information regarding Massachusetts politics (“A tangled web of corruption, nepotism, and general discombobulation”), the hierarchy of Harvard professors and chances for tenure (“Dominated by a goddamn miserable social infrastructure!”), and the history of Boston’s public transportation system (“A toxic blend of poor planning and archaic engineering”). Just when she feared Erin might absolutely run out of breath and collapse face-first into her meal, Julie managed to ask Roger what he did for work, prompting the quieter man to let loose a slew of information.

“I’m particularly drawn to the study of nutrient dynamics and interdisciplinary investigations of coastal habitats.” Erin’s husband Roger was now in the middle of a complex explanation about his most recent research paper. He was a researcher at the Laboratory for Microbial Oceanography and had received a grant to travel to Southeast Asia. “But my trip will focus primarily on shrimp defense mechanisms and immunomodulation to enhance sustainability and reduce antibiotic usage in shrimp culture.”

Julie poked at her curry. “Shrimp culture. Yes.” She essentially had no idea what Roger was talking about, but she enjoyed his enthusiasm. He had a real Dad look about him: button-down shirt, khaki pants, loafers with no socks, thinning gray hair, soft blue eyes, and charming wrinkles that appeared when he even hinted at a smile.

Roger adjusted his wire glasses and leaned his thin frame into the table, gesticulating with a forkful of chicken satay. Despite his flailing hand motions, his voice was soft, soothing. “Refining techniques to determine the activity of shrimp defense mechanisms is important. Pagocytic activity, phenoloxidase activity, and of course, bacterial clearance ability. There will be a lot to explore on this trip.” He spilled some peanut sauce onto the cuff of his wrinkled button down shirt and smudged it dry with a napkin.  “Which reminds me that I have to go back to the office tonight. I’ve got more paperwork that needs to be filled out for the grant commission.”

Erin reached for the container of ginger noodles. “I have to go to the office tonight, too. I’ve got mountains of work ahead of me, and I still have to finalize the syllabus for the classes I’m teaching this semester. My apologies, Julie. And, Matt , classes start next week for you, too, so you should get a jump-start gathering materials for your independent study. I’m sure you could find something more challenging than the last set of articles I saw you reading.” She frowned at him.

Matt remained expressionless, as he had through most of the meal. “Sure. I’d love to.” There was an edge to his voice that momentarily silenced the table.

Erin set her fork down. “Matthew, don’t sulk. One of those articles you were fussing over had been published in some unheard-of journal, and it was beneath you.”

“Maybe Julie can help Matt?” Celeste suggested.

Julie looked across the table and smiled at Celeste. The thirteen-year-old was breathtaking, and Julie found it impossible not to be drawn in by her appearance alone. She looked like one of those pitiable children forced to don ridiculous wings and pose for angel-themed calendars. But with that long blond hair that fell in wild waves and penetrating blue eyes, Celeste was positively… Well, ethereal, appropriately enough.

 “Celeste, I’m sure Julie has zero interest in helping me root through online article databases,” Matt said. “Not everyone finds the American Institute of Physics as titillating as I do.”

“Oh!” Celeste clapped her hand to her mouth, stifling laughter. “Matt said a bad word!”

“I said titillating, not tit.”

“Now you said a bad word!” Celeste squealed.

Erin sighed loudly. “Matthew, is that necessary?”

“It’s just a little dinnertime social intercourse, Mom. Nothing to get upset about. Besides, you’re the one who’s prone to flinging around terms like penal system, rectify, and annals of law.”

“Matthew! That is enough!” Erin spoke loudly in order to be heard over Celeste’s stream of giggling. Erin wrinkled her forehead in disapproval, but Julie detected the beginning of a smile. “Celeste, get control of yourself.”

Julie had to bite her cheek to stop Celeste’s laughter from rubbing off on her. “Anyway, I’m sure I would be more of a hindrance to Matt than a help. Maybe after I get a semester of college under my belt.”

Celeste, who had managed to compose herself, studied Julie’s face. “You look too smart to be going to Whitney.”

“Good God, Celeste!” Erin said sharply. “Julie, I apologize. I don’t know what is going on with this dinner.”

Julie laughed. “It’s OK. I’ll take it as a compliment. I know that Whitney isn’t the most prestigious school.”

“How did you choose Whitney?” Roger asked. “You’re pretty far from home. Is there a program there that you’re very interested in?”

Julie didn’t know how to answer this.  She was aware that studying at Whitney probably wasn’t looked at with high regard by the Harvard/MIT/Laboratory for Microbial Oceanography crowd at the table. “I guess I just wanted to try something new. Move to a big city. And to be honest, I didn’t get in to some of the other places I applied,” Julie admitted. “Even though my grades and test scores were good, my high school’s reputation probably didn’t carry much weight with admissions offices. I did get into a few other schools that would have been great, but I didn’t get the financial aid I would need. I’m going to have big loans to pay off as it is.”

“Whitney is a good school,” Erin reassured her. “The college admission process is nearly impossible to navigate. And you can always transfer to another school if you do well at Whitney.”

“Did you pick your classes yet? I could help you,” Celeste offered. “I read through the entire online course catalog when Finn was at Brandeis. He majored in creative writing and minored in journalism.”

Julie smiled. “I have to register on Friday, and I would love your help.”

Celeste was petite, with more her father’s build than Matthew, and her round face hadn’t yet slimmed down with age. And despite being obviously bright and overly articulate, there was something very immature about her. The light green pinafore-style dress that she had on looked more appropriate for a second-grader than a teenager. Julie would never have been caught dead in something like that, and she could only imagine how well it went over with Celeste’s fellow students.

But what struck Julie the most about Celeste had to do with what—or who?—was in the chair next to her.

“Oh, Julie! I didn’t introduce you properly, did I?” Celeste chirped happily and then turned to the seat next to her. “Flat Finn, this is Julie. Julie, this is Flat Finn.”

Erin poured herself some sparkling water, and Roger continued daydreaming about brine, but Julie was sure she heard Matt catch his breath. She eyed the seat again.

Frankly, she’d been hoping to get through dinner without addressing this issue.

No one else had mentioned anything so far, but this must be what Matt had started to tell her about: A life-size cardboard cutout of their brother Finn leaned stiffly angled against the chair, his gaze fixed rigidly on the ceiling’s light fixture. 

The funny thing was that—even with the fixed stare—Flat Finn was undeniably cute. Hot, actually, which Julie knew was inappropriate to think considering that, except for the flat cardboard form, he had a lot in common with a deflated blow-up doll. She hadn’t gotten a good look at the real Finn in the snowboarding picture, but in this large picture version she saw perfectly mussed-up blond hair, an athletic, ruddy complexion, and a lean but muscular build.

Finn was decidedly adorable. Even in pancake form.

Julie looked across the table and tried not to pause too long before speaking. “It’s very nice to meet you, Flat Finn. I thought you were traveling.”

Celeste wrinkled her nose. “Finn is the one who is traveling. Right now he is volunteering at a game reserve for rescued animals. This is Flat Finn. He is a symbolic representation of my brother.”

OK, this was obviously not normal. In fact, it was downright weird. But Julie was a guest in their home, and she would be as polite to this Flat Finn thing as she was to the rest of the family. “In that case, Flat Finn, would you like some basil and lemongrass duck?”

Celeste quickly shook her head. “He already had dinner. He is experimenting with not eating after five o’clock because he suspects that he can improve his metabolism and get more cut. His word not mine. He is quite interested in women, though, and he thinks he would have better luck if he could just get rid of his tiny love handles.” She rolled her eyes, whispering, “I know, it is beyond outlandish. He looks good just the way he is.”

“I admire his self-control,” Julie said. “See if I can pass up hot fudge sundaes at midnight.”

Celeste glanced at Flat Finn. “He does not approve. But I think that he is just jealous because you have such a naturally svelte figure.”

“If Flat Finn loses what he perceives to be love handles, I’ll reward him with a one-time double sundae.”

“Deal. But Mom better not sneak him any Oreos. Those are his favorite treat.”

“I promise.” Erin held up her hand, palm outward, pledging not to serve cookies to her son’s unresponsive twin.

Julie shrugged to herself. She didn’t particularly care about Flat Finn’s presence. If everyone wanted to act as though it was perfectly ordinary to hang out with a flat, replicated family member, it was fine by her. After all, he was polite, not at all bad to look at, and didn’t hog more than his fair share of the Thai dumplings. Granted, his conversational skills were lacking, but he was probably just shy around new people…

Look, everyone has a few psychological idiosyncrasies, right? Julie reasoned. She probably had a few, and this was Celeste’s. Hell, there were worse things than this. Maybe not more bizarre, but there were worse. Probably.

“Julie, guess where Finn is right now?” Celeste asked excitedly.

“Antarctica?”

“No.”

“Syria? Mongolia? New Zealand? Tallahassee? No? Must be Boise then.”

“There are no game reserves in Boise. At least, not that I know of. He is in South Africa. The Eastern Cape, right by the Indian Ocean.  He sent me pictures of antelopes yesterday and said that next time he will send a picture of a white tiger. They are very rare.”

“Very cool,” Julie agreed. “How long is he gone for?”

“That is unclear,” Celeste said. “He has been going all over the world for months now, and he still has a long list of places he wants to see. He finds jobs and charity work wherever he goes, so he is not just some spoiled brat on a permanent vacation. He might even climb Kilimanjaro.”

“That sounds terrifying,” Erin said. “I’m not one for heights myself, but Finn is certainly qualified. He climbed Denali and Rainier.”

“Really?” Julie said. “That’s impressive.”

Matt coughed, and made a show of reaching across the table for another carton of food.

“He did. I will show you those pictures later, too,” Celeste said.

Erin smiled. “Finn is our adventurous child. When he was eight years old, I came home from work one day to find him at the top of the telephone pole outside our house. The babysitter was talking on the phone and failed to notice that her charge had scaled up forty feet. I fired her, obviously, and when I asked Finn what had possessed him to do that, he told me that he’d been hoping to see into Ellie Livingston’s bedroom window.”

“Trying to peek at a girl in his class?” Julie guessed.

Erin laughed. “Her mother, actually. Mrs. Livingston heard about this and was flattered. She sent a tray of cookies over with a thank-you note. Finn was such an interesting child. ” Erin dabbed her mouth with her napkin, her fingers clenched tightly around the cloth, and stood up. “I hate to run, but I really should get going.”

“I’ll walk with you,” Roger said. “It’s a beautiful night. I should be done around eleven. Will you be ready then?”

“Perfect. Julie, you’re welcome to use the car tomorrow to look at apartments. The keys are hanging in the kitchen. We both leave early for work, so we’ll see you at dinner? And I’d love to hear more about how your mother is.” Erin pushed her chair in. “OK, good night, everyone.”

Erin and Roger vanished faster than you could say Type A personality, leaving Julie and Matt alone with Celeste and Flat Finn.

Matt backed his chair up and looked wryly at Julie. “Interesting enough for you?”

 

 

Chapter 4

 

Julie studied Celeste’s face, watching her peruse through the Whitney course catalog. They’d been on the couch together for the past half-hour, weighing the pros and cons of the classes that Julie had to choose from. It was odd the way this thirteen-year-old was glued to the course listings. But the truth was that she’d been surprisingly helpful in figuring out a college schedule. Julie was even starting to get used to her rather formal style of speech.

The house was chilly now, with the central air on full blast, and Celeste pulled a light blanket over her lap. Julie adjusted her computer that sat on her lap and rested her fingers on the keys. She peered at Celeste’s scrawling in the book. “So which English class am I taking? The eight-thirty one?”

“No. English is at ten on Tuesday and Thursday, and Introduction to Psychology is at noon Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Write down these course numbers.” Celeste pointed to the page and waited as Julie typed. “See, you have to be totally prepared on Friday morning, or you will not get the schedule you want.  At least you get to register online and avoid waiting in a line with lots of annoying people.”

“So you think all my fellow students will be annoying? I was hoping to make friends, but now I don’t know…”

Celeste snapped the book shut. “Normal people can become very annoying if put in annoying situations.”

“That’s true. Then you’re right. I’m glad I’m registering from home.”

Celeste leaned her head back against the couch. “Did you have lots of friends at home? What about a boyfriend? I bet you have a boyfriend. Is he very handsome?”

“I still have lots of friends at home. They didn’t evaporate when I left. I just won’t be seeing them as much now that I’m in Boston. I used to have a boyfriend and, yes, he was cute, but he was also a brainless pain in the neck.”

“Do you have pictures of everyone?” Celeste asked.

“Of course.” Julie opened her photo program and scrolled through albums until she found a set of pictures from August. “These are from my going-away party. My mom threw a barbecue in our backyard.”

“You had a big party? It looks wonderful,” Celeste said breathlessly.

“Yeah. Hot dogs, congealed macaroni salad, a cake with my name misspelled, the whole works.  OK, there I am with Kristen and Mariam. And here’s one of Amy and my mom.” Julie scrolled through countless pictures while Celeste demanded details on nearly everything.

“Do you have a picture of your father?”

Julie continued pulling up photos. “Nope. He was away on business. But he did send me the most technologically advanced phone there is as a gift. And he called during the party. Oh, here’s the cake. Cute, huh?”

“Who’s that? You had a band playing? Is that your boyfriend? Your dress is very pretty.” Celeste wanted every detail. “Where did you buy that? How did you get in and out of it? Your boobs look huge! No wonder you had a boyfriend!”

“First of all, the dress is not that tight. It’s fitted. And my boobs look regularly-sized. And we’re not talking about my boobs.  But, yes, the party was really fun. I didn’t want anything too fancy, so it was perfect. So what kind of birthday parties do you have?” Julie asked.

Celeste looked straight ahead, seemingly transfixed by something on a shelf. “I do not really do parties anymore. They never work out terribly well for me,” she said simply. “We have to show Flat Finn that red dress. He is going to love it! And the one of you at graduation. You look so happy getting your diploma.”

Celeste pushed the blanket aside and retrieved the cardboard cutout of her brother that she’d left by the piano in the small room off of the main hall.  According to Celeste, Flat Finn loathed practicing scales, but he knew that Erin would never forgive him if he slacked off. Even cardboard brothers felt obligated to please their parents. Celeste entered the room carrying the cutout in front of her, eerily giving the impression that Flat Finn was able to glide around by himself.  She stood him next to the coffee table near Julie and adjusted the panels by his feet that kept him standing, struggling to make him balance on the thick rug.

“Come on, Flat Finn!” she muttered, the wavering figure looming over her. She looked up to his head, her blond curls falling off her face and revealing the determination in her eyes. “Please!” she said with agitation. “You have to help out.”

 She reached a hand up to his midsection, trying desperately to keep him vertical, but each time she seemed to find the perfect spot for the base flap, Flat Finn would lean precariously forward or backward, causing Celeste to tighten her free hand. Julie could see that the carpeting was not going to allow a successful outcome, and Celeste’s cheeks flushed as she became increasingly frustrated. Panicked, even.

 “You have done this before, Flat Finn! You can do this!” she pleaded.

Julie watched the scene before her and wondered what the hell she’d gotten herself into by stepping foot in this house. Celeste was looking rather frazzled, and it was hard to watch this kid in such a state, so Julie stood up and took Flat Finn by the shoulders. If everyone else was going to normalize this, she might as well hop on the bandwagon.

“You know what? Guys always like to lie down and just sprawl out.  They’re lazy like that. I wonder if that’s what he wants.” Julie noticed Matt poised nervously at the far side of the room, clearly considering whether or not to intervene. He took a step forward. Julie shot him a look and he stepped back. “Besides,” she continued to Celeste, “Flat Finn can’t see the computer from up there. He should be on the couch with us.”

Celeste looked at Julie for a moment, and then her face brightened. “I think he would like that very much.”

Julie lifted Flat Finn from the nubby, unsuitable carpeting, swung him sideways into the air, and lay him on his side on the couch.

“Be careful,” Celeste urged from her crouched position on the rug.

“He’s fine. And there’s still room for us.” Julie took her seat again, leaving enough room behind her so that Flat Finn did not risk getting any flatter. “Just don’t lean back, or we’ll be in trouble. Come sit down and tell me which pictures he wants to see.”

Celeste rounded the table and sat down gingerly. She leaned her head over Julie’s lap, peeking at Flat Finn’s face jutting out from behind Julie’s back. “He definitely wants to see the red dress ones first. He could hear me talking about them and suspects that you look hot and sultry. Again, his words, not mine.”

Julie laughed. “Well, I suspect Flat Finn is a pervert, and he’s going to be disappointed, but he can see the pictures anyway.” Julie opened the photo and waited for an assessment. She did look cute that day, she had to admit. While the dress was a little low-cut and fell a few inches above the knee, it was also soft and flowing. She liked how the straps crisscrossed over her back and tied in a bow.

Celeste paused for a moment. “He is not disappointed. He thinks that you are beautiful, and that you should Facebook Finn.” She paused again. “He doesn’t mean that to sound as dirty as it does.”

Julie swallowed. “Flat Finn is on Facebook?” She’d love to see those status updates. Got strapped to the roof of the car today for a trip to Starbucks. Would have loved to taste caramel mocha, but can’t move arms and so was forced to stare longingly at delicious hot beverage. Will the taunting never end?

Celeste sighed, clearly exasperated at Julie’s stupidity. “Not Flat Finn. Finn. Go find him on Facebook. You are on Facebook, aren’t you? Matty and Finn are, and Matty lets me sneak on with him so I can see Finn’s page. Shhhh,” she said, holding a finger to her lips. “Mom and Dad would not approve whatsoever. They hate any sort of social networking site and consider it indicative of lower intelligence.”

“I suppose he’s on Twitter, too?”

“Absolutely not. Are you?”

Julie shook her head. “I have a strong aversion to Twitter, and yet there is a social obligation that forces me to pop in and spy on celebrities now and then. I don’t get Twitter. It’s impossible to follow conversation threads, and it’s too easy to spend hours and hours clicking on random names, and the next thing you know, you’ve become infatuated with Tweet photos from the Kardashians.”

Celeste stared at her. “So are you or are you not on Facebook?”

Man, this kid was a piece of work. “Yup, I am on Facebook. And if you don’t tell your parents that, then I won’t tell them about you and Matthew. And I would be honored to be Finn’s friend.” Julie logged into the site. “Finneas or Finn?” she asked Celeste.

“Always Finn. He hates Finneas. But he made his account under Finn Is God.”

Julie laughed. “Why did he do that?”

“Because he has no interest in having undesirables from high school finding him. He gets to hide out a little more this way. Be selective. That’s important to him. Being selective with your friends.”

Julie tapped the keyboard, found the real Finn, and sent a friend request. With only thirty-two friends compared to Julie’s four-hundred-and-something, he was indeed selective. She saw Matthew’s name on Finn’s friend list and added him, too. Julie’s philosophy was that you could never have too many friends. Virtual ones, at least. She had a few real ones she could do without.

“Update your status! Update your status!” Celeste demanded. “Something funny.”

Julie thought for a moment. “How’s this?”

Julie Seagle Never moon a werewolf.

 

Celeste leaned her head against Julie’s shoulder. ”I like it. It’s practical and witty. Flat Finn likes it, too. Do one for him.”

 

This was new. Julie had never had to come up with a status update directed to someone’s flat brother.

Julie Seagle is unable to find any financially Finnish finches for Flat Finn, but will finagle finger-painting fingerling finery as a final finale. She finks.

 

“You have made substantial use of alliteration.” Celeste started at the computer screen. “Flat Finn is finking about it,” she said, glaring at Julie. “I, however, am not fond of this update.”

Julie typed again.

Julie Seagle You can never be too rich or too Finn.

 

Celeste patted Julie’s arm. “Better.”

 

**********

 

Julie cracked the ice cube tray and dropped a few cubes into her water glass. “You want some?”

Matt nodded. “Thanks.”

“Is Celeste asleep?” Julie took a glass from the cupboard.

“Out cold.”

“Are you actually packing yourself a lunch for tomorrow?” She eyed the healthy selection of carrot sticks, grapes, whole grain crackers, and a yogurt drink that Matt was putting into a lunch bag.

“I’m not actually packing myself a lunch for tomorrow. It’s for Celeste. That damn private school she’s at makes the kids take a break and nourish themselves before the teachers continue indoctrinating them with foolish lessons about Predynastic Egypt and curtal sonnets.” Matt picked up a wedge of cheese and began cutting uniform slices.

“What the hell is a curtal sonnet?” Julie lifted herself up so that she was sitting on the counter and stole a piece of cheese. “It makes me think of curds and whey.”

“It was invented by this guy, Hopkins, and the curtal sonnet has exactly three-quarters of the structure of a Petrarchan sonnet shrunk proportionally. Interestingly enough, he has an equation for it, and some argue that a true interest in sonnets stems from their relationship to math. If the Petrarchan sonnet is described as eight plus six equals fourteen, then the curtal sonnet would be twelve over two plus nine over two…” Matt put the knife down. “Julie?”

“Sorry, I think I fell asleep for a minute.” Julie yawned and patted her cheeks. “Kidding! I’m kidding! The unification of math and poetry is jaw-droppingly interesting. But you lost me at equation.”

Matt smirked. “Well, it is interesting because lots of poems have mathematical imagery or structure. Concrete triangular poems and syllabic verse, for example. Did you know that we subconsciously track the sound properties in poetry?”

“No, you subconsciously track sound properties and then wreck perfectly nice poetry by breaking it down into mathematical elements. Some of us just enjoy plain old poetry.”

Matt zipped up Celeste’s lunch bag and moved to stand in front of Julie. “I enjoy it, too. Just in a different way than you do. I can’t help it. I’m a nerd.”

“So you’ve said.”

“I suspect that on some level, you respond to the mathematical components in writing.”

“And I suspect that you’re wrong.” Julie hopped down from the counter and pointed to the lunch bag. “So will Flat Finn be needing a lunch, too?”

“Nope. He has a large breakfast. A stack of pancakes, an egg white omelet with green peppers and Swiss, and a fruit smoothie. That usually tides him over until dinner.”

Julie crossed her arms. “I’m serious. Flat Finn can’t possibly go to school with her, right?”

“He already went to Brandeis so, no, he doesn’t need to repeat seventh grade. Although they did make him take a bunch of tests in order to qualify out. He barely passed the oral exams, though, because the instructors found him withholding and tight-lipped. It’s a terribly biased system, but at least he passed and won’t have to suffer through the school’s annual reenactment of the first Thanksgiving. He has a pilgrim phobia.”

“Funny. Really, what’s the deal with Flat Finn?”

“After an unfortunate incident involving Wile E. Coyote and an anvil, Three Dimensional Finn had to change his name.”

Julie laughed. “Matt, come on! I assume this has something to do with her brother being away?”

Matt groaned. “Something like that.” He moved to the fridge, tucked the lunch bag on a shelf, and rearranged the leftover cartons. 

“And nobody has suggested that she lose the accessory? I mean, she’s kind of old for this sort of thing, don’t you think? Not that I can think of a good age for it.”

He shrugged. “I don’t really know. I just follow orders and nod and smile.”

“Well, when is the real Finn coming back? That would take care of this, right? Does she take Flat Finn out of the house? What do her friends think when she shows up at soccer practice and asks if Flat Finn can play fullback?”

“No idea when Finn is coming home. He’s off on his adventures, being cool and carefree,” he said brusquely and shut the fridge. “And unless she’s at school, Celeste takes Flat Finn everywhere. But she doesn’t… She doesn’t go out much. Restaurants aren’t really an option, hence the regular takeout. She doesn’t play soccer, and she doesn’t have friends. Anything else, or are you done making fun of her?”

“Hey,” Julie softened her tone. “I am not making fun of her. I like her. Flat Finn, too. And did you say hence?”

“Yes, I said hence.” Matt busied himself cleaning off the kitchen counters. “I think it’s making a comeback.”

“But I don’t get why Celeste—”

“Leave it alone,” Matt said sharply. “I’m not saying anything else about it, OK? And please don’t bring this up with my parents.”

Julie froze. “I’m sorry,” she stammered. “It’s none of my business. I shouldn’t pry.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Matt said apologetically. “Forget it. Listen, I have to take Celeste to school tomorrow morning, but after that I could help you find an apartment. I called a friend of mine who knows a realtor that I got in touch with, and he’s got some places for you to see. I assumed you wouldnassust mind a little help.”

“Really? That’s awesome. Thank you so much.” She wasn’t about to refuse any apartment leads. “You’re not busy tomorrow?”

“I’ve got time. This realtor said we could meet him at ten, and we’ll go from there. Sound OK?”

“Very OK.”

 

 

Chapter 5

 

Julie pursed her lips together. She didn’t like this realtor. How could his pants be falling off when he had such a substantial belly willing to hold them up? But the real reason she didn’t care for this jerk was because he’d just brought them to yet another dumpy, probably-condemned apartment. 

“Well, this is obviously the apartment I was meant to have. No wonder the one in Jamaica Plain didn’t work out. It was a sign from God that I needed to find this gem. The cockroaches are a nice bonus. I’ve always wanted to live with animals. And I can make extra money working as a hooker. Those girls outside looked really friendly, and I’m sure they’d take me under their wing and teach me the tricks of the trade. Pardon the pun.”

Matt stepped soundly on a particularly beefy cockroach. “Odds are, their pimp would be highly interested in obtaining the services of a nice Midwestern girl. Boston men are forever complaining about the same old, same old with East Coast prostitutes.”

The realtor growled and tugged on his sagging pants. “Look, you two, this is the eighth goddamn place I’ve showed you. This is what you get in your price range, missy. Take it or leave it.”

“She’ll need to see another goddamn place, then, because the roaches have unionized and put a stop to further negotiations regarding new tenants. Also, I think I smell a dead body.”

The realtor threw his hands up in Julie’s direction. “Sweetheart, with what you’re willing to pay, you’d be better off squeezing in with five roommates in a one-bedroom. And I don’t have those kinds of listings. Check Craigslist.”

Julie squinted her eyes. “Sweetheart will not be using Craigslist. Sweetheart will not be living here. Sweetheart will likely collapse in despair and move back to Ohio, where she will wait tables at Dirk’s Drink Dive and give up on her dream of attending at least one college class before the turn of the century.”

She briefly considered the option of calling her father to bail her out of this hell. That was if she could even reach him. Forget it. Way too embarrassing. Sh e was paying for college with money from her mother and student loans, and she could surely figure out this situation without humiliating herself in front of her father. She wiped her forehead. God, it was stuffy and rank in here, and she could feel the sweat practically streaming down her back. Who knew Boston was so humid? Well, Bostonians probably.

Julie knew that she had better get out of this building before she further insulted this jackass. She’d already been rude enough, but she couldn’t be held responsible for what came out of her mouth right now. Poor Matt had trekked around various Boston neighborhoods with her to look at one uninhabitable place after another. After four hours of searching, she was no closer to finding a place to live than she was when they’d started. And now here she was mouthing off and acting like a total lunatic.

She took a deep breath. “Here’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to,” she started slowly, hoping that by speaking positively a brilliant idea would come to her and let her complete the sentence. “I am going to consider the many simple solutions to my housing crisis and deduce what the best strategy will be.” She paused. “And I choose to wander around and… and look for fliers from people seeking roommates. Yes. That is the plan.”

Matt looked doubtful. “If that’s what you want, sure. Let’s go back into Harvard Square.  It’s probably your best bet. And less corpse-y.”

“Corpse-y? Really? Is that an MIT word?”

“You bet. Let’s get out of here.”

Julie followed Matt out of the apartment and walked silently next to him for ten minutes, as he led them to the nearest T stop. “Where are we again? I’m totally confused.”

“Just outside Davis Square. It’s mostly a nice area, but like anyplace, it has its not-so-good parts.”

“I appreciate your help. I really do. This is all my fault, and you shouldn’t have to give up your day to visit every hellhole in a ten-mile radius.” Julie was exhausted and dejected. She was beginning to realize that with the amount of money she had for monthly rent, finding reasonable accommodations was going to be next to impossible.

Matt held the door to the T station open for her. Julie thought that it seemed awfully crowded for a weekday afternoon, and the top landing by the stairs was mobbed with people talking on cell phones, bumping into her, and blocking her view. The heat from the swarm of commuters added to her increasing exhaustion and discomfort. She stepped up closer to Matt so she wouldn’t lose him and followed him onto the staircase. Or what she thought was the staircase.

And then her heart started to pound. “Wait, no! No! No escalators. Matt, I don’t do escalators.” Julie tried to step off, but she was too late, now feeling as though she were plunging straight down, unsecured and helpless. She glanced at the bottom of the landing, aware of the hideously steep incline and the slow pace of the escalator. Dizzy and overwhelmingly anxious, Julie could see shapes begin to blur and felt her knees tremble as the vertigo took over.

“Julie? Julie?” She was aware of Matt’s voice, but it sounded foggy and unnatural. She could make out his green T-shirt as he turned toward her, slipping his arms around her waist and pulling her in as she started to drop. “I got you,” he said. “I won’t let you fall. Just hold on.” He held her tightly against his chest, and she briefly wondered if he was wearing Axe body spray.

“Boooo,” she murmured.

“What did you say? Are you OK? Just hold on for another minute.”

And then suddenly they were off the horrible escalator, Julie still awkwardly slumped in his arms while people swarmed around them.

“Oh. Sorry.” Alert enough to know that she didn’t want to faint in a T station, she pulled back a bit, trying to steady herself against Matt as she forced her legs to work. He was surprisingly strong for someone who likely spent most of his day hunched over a scientific calculator. Slowly the world came into focus again, and she found herself staring at his shirt that enthusiastically announced, FTW! 

For. The. Win, she mouthed and shut her eyes in dismay.

She felt drunk, the way she had after those three shots of putrid peppermint schnapps at the prom. She wasn’t a big drinker (as evidenced that night when she hurled up Chicken Divan in the ladies’ room at the Hotel Carnegie), and she didn’t care for the similar feeling she had now.

She poked her finger into his chest. “Matthew, my friend, you need some new clothes.”

“Thank you.”

She looked up at him dizzily. “Do you have one geeky shirt for every day of the week?”

“More than that. Don’t worry.”

“I am flooded with relief.”

“Are you OK now?”

“Oh.” Julie realized she was still slouched into him. “Yes. I’m… I’m perfectly OK. Brilliant.” She dropped her hands from his chest and took a step back. There. She could see normally, and her knees were no longer comprised solely of gelatin. “Sorry about that. Let’s go get our train.”

Matt looked at her skeptically. “If you’re sure.”

“Yeah. I’m fine. See?” She jumped up and down. “All motor function has been restored. Physiological integrity is intact. I can now continue not finding an apartment.”

“You’re very goofy.”

The underground platform area was cool and helped Julie feel human again. The downside of which was that she could now fully appreciate how embarrassing her near-fainting spell was. She was very good about avoiding situations that brought on an attack, but she hadn’t been able to see that damn escalator through all the T riders.

They only had to wait a few minutes before the next train screeched to a piercing halt. She and Matt stepped onto the train and sat down in seats that faced the center of the car. Julie crossed her legs and tried to appear as composed as one could after such an incident.

She tucked her hair behind her ears. “So, now you know that I don’t like escalators. Or elevators, I imagine, although I haven’t been on one in years. Maybe I’ve improved. It makes me fall apart. I call it moving height freak-out syndrome.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Matt informed her. “You’re acrophobic, which is one of the space and motion phobias. You have an irrational fear of heights that results in severe discomfort. And you didn’t exactly freak out. You probably experienced dizziness and some panic, right?”

“Thank you for ruining my attempt to bring levity to my traumatic event.” Julie managed not to glower, although it took some effort.

“I’m not ruining your attempt at levity, but you should come up with a name that is factually accurate.” Matt stood up and grabbed a metal bar that ran above his head, swaying with the movement of the train.

“I can come up with whatever the hell name I want to. It’s my syndrome, so I get to name it.”

“Well, it’s not really your syndrome considering that other people—”

“Oh my God!” Julie pleaded. “Can we not argue about what this mortifying thing is called?”

“We’re not arguing. We’re discussing. And you shouldn’t be mortified. It’s really not that uncommon.”

“I don’t care if it’s common or not, I have the right to be mortified if I want to.”

“Of course you have the right. I’m just telling you that if your feeling of mortification is based on the belief that this is an unusual pathology, then statistically speaking, you have no reason to.” He was more animated now than Julie had seen him before, color coming into his cheeks and his murky gray eyes actually shining. “You can take comfort in being part of a community. If you look at the percentage of people with any phobia at all, then you’ve got substantial company.”

“So now I’m pathological?” Julie clenched her hands. Good Lord, Matt was exasperating, particularly because he had an annoying grin plastered on his face and seemed to delight way too much in being difficult. Great. She finally had the annoying brother she’d never wanted.

“No, you’re not pathological, but acrophobia is pathological in the sense that your reaction to heights deviates from the norm.”

“Why do you have to correct everything I say?” Julie glanced at his FTW! shirt. “Out of the two of us, I don’t think I’m the one that deviates from the norm.” The train slammed to a stop. “You’re the one who seems to get off arguing.”

“You sound exactly like Finn. We’re exchanging ideas. Debating.” Matt looked down at his shorts. “And so far I haven’t gotten off.”

“Don’t be rude. Then let’s call it a draw, and we’ll agree to disagree. Come on. I don’t suppose I can get a Coolatta around here? I need caffeine if I’m going to regroup and find an apartment today.” Julie stepped onto the platform with Matt close behind her.

“Watch it,” he warned. “Make sure you get on the stairs here. This station also has a really steep escalator.”

They took the stairs and emerged in the center of Harvard Square. Matt directed her to a community board where people had pinned information about everything from bands and jobs to lecture series and free film nights. Julie liked it here, where a diverse crowd could make anybody feel comfortable: Students, professors, parents with toddlers, and punked-out teens skipping school all crowded the brick sidewalks. Groups of people were clustered on concrete steps; musicians were playing instruments and singing James Taylor songs; and a puppeteer across the street was making elaborate marionettes dance while little kids laughed. Even the man in a floral dress on roller blades who was shouting a profane version of The Declaration of Independence seemed to fit in. There was an energy here that she found enthralling.

“What about this one?” Matt pointed to a flyer advertising a one-bedroom apartment.

“First of all, I can’t afford that. Second of all, this ad looks really old. All the phone number tabs have been torn off.”

“You never know. Maybe they had a slew of undesirables and lowered the price hoping someone normal will call. I bet the last applicant was a wealthy but deranged middle-aged clown who tried to juggle the roommates.”

Julie raised an eyebrow. “Or it was an unhinged M.I.T nerd who wanted to take over the apartment with his techie gear, leaving little room for necessary things like furniture.”

Matt tapped the side of his head. “Now you’re thinking.”

There were a few ads that looked like possibilities, so Julie stored the numbers on her phone. Matt had to get home to get the car and pick up Celeste from school, so they grabbed sandwich wraps to-go from a place on Mt. Auburn Street and then Julie set her sights on locating her coveted coffee beverage as quickly as possible. “I need a Coolatta, Matt. Please tell me we can get one here? I may accidentally reenact the escalator scene if I don’t find one soon.” Julie tripped on the cobbled sidewalk. “See? I’m already beginning to derail.”

“Yes. Right away.”

Matt led them across the Square to a quieter side street, then back down Mass Ave, then down a shorter one-way street, occasionally glancing at Julie.

Julie followed him obediently, wondering why he’d passed three Dunkin’ Donuts without heading in to any of them. She stopped him and dropped her head to the side. “Oh, you poor thing. You don’t know what a Coolatta is, do you?”

Matt actually appeared to squirm a bit. “Well, no. I don’t.”

“Hold on, I have to mark this event.” Julie whipped out her phone and updated her Facebook status, which she read aloud to Matt.

Julie Seagle Have discovered noticeable gap in know-it-all’s knowledge base. Will celebrate enchanting news with Coolatta. 

 

She was unable to stifle a grin.

Matt put his hands on his hips. “Hysterical. I never said that I knew everything. I’m just confident that I’m well-informed on many subjects.”

“Apparently not important subjects.” Julie marched ahead. “And, by the way, there’s a difference between confident and cocky. Look, there’s a Dunkin’ at the top of this street. Do you know how far I have to drive at home to find one? And here you are, surrounded by one on every street corner! This is obviously the best city in the world. And the reason you’ve never heard of my favorite drink is because you’re probably an uptight coffeehouse, double-espresso, no-sugar kind of guy?”

“I’m miserably transparent, huh?”

“No. I’m a coffee psychic. You have that bitter double-espresso look about you. But today you’re joining up with the masses and getting a Coolatta.”

A few minutes later, Julie was happily inhaling her large frozen coffee drink while they headed out of the square.

Matt looked less than thrilled and made an exaggerated disgusted face after his first taste.

“This is a very popular drink, you know,” Julie informed him. “There’s no reason to be making such an expression.”

“This must be why I’m not a social icon. You’ve finally pinpointed it. I don’t blindly follow popular culture’s love for overly sweet, pseudo-coffee, ice crystal concoctions. It’s a relief to finally understand why my social status is on a downward course.”

“It’s either that or the shirts,” Julie muttered. “Hey, can we walk home by the river?” Julie could just glimpse the blue water from where they walked and was aching to stroll back to the house along the picturesque path that ran through the grass.

Matt brushed his shaggy hair from his face. “Unfortunately, we don’t really have time right now. It’s faster to cut directly through the Square, and I have to get Celeste.”

“Sure. No problem.” Julie took another sip of her drink. “Thank you for helping me out today. I’m sure this was a huge drag, but I really appreciate it. This was incredibly nice of you, and I’m sorry if I’ve been grouchy. I didn’t expect to start off my freshman year in such flux. You’ve become a social icon to me,” she teased.

“Yeah, right. You haven’t been grouchy. You’ve been expressive and feisty. Both of which I like. Considering that your first days in Boston are far from what you were expecting, I think that you’re doing great. I’m happy to help.”

They walked quietly for a few minutes, and Julie noticed that despite the lull in conversation, there was nothing the least bit uncomfortable about being with Matt.

“So, do you pick up Celeste every day?” She hoped that he wouldn’t bite her head off for this Celeste-related question.

He nodded.

“And do you stay with her after school, too, until your parents get home?”

“I do.”

“How do you get your schoolwork done? I imagine you’ve got more homework than the average student.”

He shrugged. “It’s not a big deal. I stay up late, which I like. Sometimes I go back to school at night if I need to use one of the labs. It works out fine.”

“Is that why you don’t live in the dorms? Or an apartment?”

“It would be rather silly to pay rent when my parents’ house is so close to school.”

“I guess so.”

 Matt took another sip of his drink. Aha! Julie smiled to herself and kept walking. He did like the Coolatta. Everyone did.

 

 

Chapter 6

 

Julie tapped her foot anxiously as she listened to the outgoing message. She had just called the last number from the group of potential apartment rentals and was hoping this would be it. A girl’s chipper voice said, “Hi! You’ve reached Sally, (that’s me!) and Megan, Barb, and our newest roommate, Chelsea! Leave us a message, and if we’re not too busy having fun, we’ll call you back!” Julie growled and hung up. She didn’t know if she was jealous of that fourth roommate or not. That Sally sounded an awful lot like the perky-yet-vacant crowd she’d left behind at home. On the other hand, there was something to be said for a core gaggle of girls who would love nothing more than to order pizza, do each others’ hair, and watch tawdry reality shows.

Julie left her mom a falsely optimistic voicemail saying that she had some very strong housing possibilities and would likely be happily settled into a new place by the weekend. It could happen, right? Except that it was becoming apparent to Julie that she and her mom had been grossly naïve about what living in Boston would entail. Julie swore under her breath. Now she was another step closer to having to call her father for money. It was Wednesday night, so that gave her a few days to make good on her white lie. She had orientation tomorrow, and she’d just have to interrogate everyone she met for apartment leads.

Julie turned on her computer and checked the rental sites that she had bookmarked. Nothing new had come up. Even though her first few days in Boston had been a bit unsettled, she couldn’t complain. At least she had a good place to stay, even if it was temporary. Finn’s room was comfortable, and it somehow felt natural for her to be in here. Things would work out.

Plus, she was getting a kick-start to her undergraduate education just by eating dinner with the Watkins clan.

Dinner tonight had been Indian take-out complemented by a themed discussion about the religious diversity of India, arranged marriages, and the cash-for-votes scandal of 2008. Not that Julie had had much to contribute, since her knowledge of Indian culture and politics was embarrassingly limited, but she’d enjoyed the heated discussion. Erin had banged the table a number of times when making a point, Roger had thoughtfully tilted his head and delivered soft-spoken comments that sympathized with the people of India, and Matt had referenced several historic events, citing the year and exact date. Even though she had mostly just listened during the meal, Julie had found the conversation thoroughly enjoyable.

This is what she hoped her college classes would be like: dynamic, thought-provoking dialogue, piles of new information, and everything opposite from the dull, rote classroom teachings of her high school. Although presumably there would be no Flat characters in the college classrooms.

Right now Celeste was asleep with Flat Finn standing next to her headboard, Erin and Roger were back at work again, and Matt was holed up in his room. He’d applied and been accepted to be a research assistant for one of his professors, and so tonight he was pondering “effective decomposition strategies for certain nonconvex mixed-integer nonlinear optimization problems.” Whatever the hell that meant. According to Matt, his work involved lots of coding and testing of some new algorithm and then doing numerical experiments on the performance of said scintillating algorithm. This was apparently about as exciting as it got for Matt. Maybe he had a nice mainstream hobby that she didn’t know about?

Julie’s email notified her that she was now Facebook friends with both Matt and Finn. Oh, and that Finn had commented on her status about never being too rich or too Finn. Best. Update. Ever, he’d written. So he had a sense of humor. Although Julie wondered if he even knew who she was. Had anyone in his family let him know that she was a guest in their house? She sent him a quick private message:

 

Dear Finn,

Despite appearances, I am not in fact some weirdo who befriends strangers on Facebook and works their names into status updates. At least not on a regular basis. Our mothers went to college together, and I’m in Boston starting Whitney in a few days. My housing fell through, and your parents were nice enough to let me crash in your room while I figure things out. Not sure if anyone had told you about me…

Any booby traps in here that I should know about? I wouldn’t want Flat Finn to have an accident should he stop by to chat.

-Julie

 

Julie clicked on Finn’s profile page. He had a bunch of online albums, and she browsed through tons of photos of him in one picturesque spot after another: posing in the foreground of a mountain range; wading through a river; surrounded by tropical foliage; bundled up in ski gear during blizzard conditions; and kayaking on a pristine lake.  And then there were pictures documenting his volunteer work showing him unloading boxes of food from the back of a rickety truck, huddling with a group of children in a bare-bones classroom, and balancing on a ladder as he hammered nails into the beam of a house under construction.  And her personal favorite, a tan Finn emerging from the ocean with a surfboard and wearing only a pair of swim trunks. She couldn’t help it. Finn was decidedly gorgeous, and anyone would have drooled a bit. Rugged, lean, perfect hair, adorable smile… 

Her email alert sounded. She had a message from Finn.

 

Hi, Julie-

Truthfully, I’m a little disappointed that you’re not a stalker. I’ve been doing what I can to lure one in, and I thought I’d finally succeeded. Oh, well. I’ll keep trying. Hope the monsters under my bed haven’t been keeping you up at night. (They tend to enjoy late night keg parties and loud doo wop music.)  If they give you any trouble, I suggest singing anything from 2000-2006. They don’t care for those years because it was during that time that the monster economy crashed, and they all had to cut back. Try a little Green Day (monsters don’t respond well to any pop rock anthem). John Mayer used to work, but after he said something about, “the Joshua Tree of vaginas,” the monsters couldn’t stop laughing. Noisily. If all else fails, there’s a baseball bat in my closet. Don’t be afraid to use it.

So Flat Finn hasn’t freaked you out too much? He’s a cool guy. Keep an eye on him, though. He likes to take the car out once in a while, and he never refills the tank.

-Finn

 

Julie laughed and wrote back.

 

Finn-

Thanks for the heads up. I had a feeling FF might have a sneaky streak. He has that look about him. Something about the way he refuses to make eye contact.

I appreciate the tips. Ohio monsters can only be banished by showing reruns of “According to Jim,” but I’ve never been able to make myself do that.

-Julie

 

She clicked on Facebook’s news feed. Both Matt and Finn had recent updates. Oh, good Lord. These were some weird brothers.

Matthew Watkins I like Facebook more than I like conversations with real people, because here I don’t have to wait until someone has finished talking before I say something else that’s really inane and tangential.

Finn is God They say if your ears are burning then someone is talking about you. Is that true? Because I have a question about what it means if it’s a different body part.

 

Julie could play weird, too.

Julie Seagle has a word in her status that doesn’t really flugh anything.

She checked her Gmail account. Finally there was a message from her father.

 

Dear, Julie:

 What do you think about a trip to California for your winter break? Three weeks up and down the coast. Send my secretary your vacation dates, and we’ll spend Christmas together. Your mother said this would be acceptable to her, so I hope that you’ll agree.

Dad

 

Julie reread the email. This would be more time than she’d spent with her dad since she’d been a little kid. But what about her mother? She would be upset not to have Julie home for the holidays, although she’d obviously already talked this over with Julie’s dad and agreed. Of course Kate had understood that this opportunity couldn’t be passed up. She was that kind of mother. Julie wrote her father back.

 

Hi, Daddy! So happy to hear from you! Yes! The trip sounds perfect. I’m so excited to see you! Call me and tell me more. I love you. Julie

 

She sent her father her cell number in case he’d misplaced it, as well as the Watkins’ home phone number.

Julie closed the computer and picked out her outfit for tomorrow. Orientation started with coffee and bagels at eight-thirty and ran until two-fifteen. She stuck a notebook, pen, a map of the school, and the directions Matt had given her into an oversized purse. As she fumbled to get everything into her bag, a paper slipped to the floor. Julie picked it up and laughed. Matt had slipped a map of the Boston T system into her things and had put gigantic skull and crossbones symbols next to T stations with escalators. Near the map’s key he had added an identifying description: Horrifying threat awaits. Be on high alert. Julie laughed. But see? She really had no business questioning Flat Finn when she couldn’t even get on a damn escalator without having a total collapse. Of course, she’d rather faint in public than cart around a flat person.

She turned off the overhead light and crawled into bed, pulled the cool sheet over her, and easily fell asleep. For a few hours.

The noise from the two-fifteen train in Ohio used to wake her up. Even from across town, Julie could hear the horn and the rhythmic clacking as the train drove its course. It took months after the train schedule changed for her to get used to the sound and be able to sleep through it. She remembered when the sleep issues had started, because it’d been around the same time that her father had moved out. Right now she missed that noise, and the silence woke her up. 

 Julie turned on the small lamp by the bed and took her book from the nightstand. Usually she could read until it was impossible to keep her eyes open any longer and falling asleep became inevitable. But tonight she was wide awake and unable to focus. It had less to do with being nervous about starting school and more about feeling antsy to get going.  She dropped her book and picked up the picture by the lamp. She smiled at the image of Finn running across the backyard while carrying a young Celeste on his back. She had her hands over his eyes and her head thrown back as she screamed with delight.  Julie guessed she’d been about five years old and was just as beautiful then as she was now.

Julie turned off the light and spent thirty minutes tossing and turning. She had to shut down her brain and get some sleep, but there was so much swirling through her head: college, where to live, strange and wonderful Celeste with her cardboard brother, Matt’s nerdy shirts, her pathetic near-collapse on the escalator, Roger’s shrimp, Erin’s strong opinions on nearly everything…

She pulled a pillow over her head and tried picturing serene scenes. Then she tried to bore herself to sleep by thinking about things like yogurt and the structure of a gas pedal. It wasn’t working. It must be those damn monsters under the bed. Julie rolled onto her back, wondering how to clear her head. She had one idea. It was stupid, but she was getting desperate.

She started quietly singing. God, this was moronic. At least Green Day was Finn’s dumb idea and not hers. Julie ran her hands through her hair and took a deep breath. Who the hell could fall asleep to Green Day? Julie hummed for a moment and then kept singing.

It only took one verse for Julie to lull the monsters under the bed into peace. As she drifted to sleep, she knew that she’d have to thank Finn.

 

 

Chapter 7

 

Julie crossed her legs and tried to get comfortable in the hard auditorium seat. It just wasn’t going to happen. The seats had obviously been designed to maximize physical discomfort and prevent students from falling asleep during lectures. Effective, if not cruel. She’d survived a rather tedious breakfast reception during which students had quietly stood around awkwardly nodding and smiling at each other while they waited for orientation to begin. This welcome lecture had to be better. The tiered seats faced a lectern where a few people were struggling to get a Whitney orientation video to work.

“Sorry.” Julie apologized to the girl in the next seat, as she accidently elbowed her while attempting to get her notepad from her bag.

“No problem. We’re like goddamn anchovies in these chairs, huh?” The girl smiled at Julie. “I’m Dana. I don’t know anybody here, and I’m hoping you’re a normal person and will be nice to me. Unlike the man on the T this morning that humped my leg. Although he seemed to think he was being nice.”

“I’m Julie from Ohio, and I promise not to hump your leg.”

“Thank God!” Dana said, looking upward and clapping her hands. “I’m going to hold you to that.”

The guy on Julie’s left leaned in to Dana. “I, on the other hand, might hump your leg. Apologies in advance. I really can’t control it. So sorry.”

Julie laughed. “Since you’ve given fair warning, maybe she’ll excuse you.”

He held his hand out. “I’m Jamie. I grew up in Milford, west of Boston.”

Julie and Dana each shook his hand. Dana’s shiny jet-black hair was cut in a perfectly sharp bob, and her hair barely moved as she nodded to Jamie. “Milford boy, you’re much cuter than perverted T guy, so I just might let you hump my leg. For a small fee.”

“I’ll remember that,” Jamie said, his dimples appearing as he grinned. He flopped back into his seat, adjusted his baseball hat, and rubbed the stubble on his cheek. He definitely looked like he had rolled out of bed about five minutes ago. “What dorms are you in? I’m in Thompson.”

“Actually, I’m living off campus in an apartment,” Dana said. “Julie, where are you?”

“Nowhere, actually. Well, somewhere obviously. I’m staying with some family friends until I can find a place. Do you guys know of anything?”

“Ugh,” Jamie groaned. “Family friends? Sounds awful.”

Julie shook her head. “No, it’s not so bad. They’re really nice.”

“I can ask around for you,” Dana said. “The dorms are totally packed, I know that.”

“Yeah, and the housing market around here is the pits. I’ll check the campus for signs, though. See if there are any roommate ads for you,” Jamie offered.

“That would be great. Thank you.” Julie gave Jamie and Dana her cell number and programmed theirs into her phone. “Look. They got the video working.” She glanced down at her program. “A thirty-minute campus tour video, followed by a lecture from the head librarian on how to use the online catalogue system. Fun.”

Jamie slumped down further in his seat. “Wake me when it’s over.”

Dana leaned over. “I’ll hump your leg to signal the torture has ended.”

Jamie shut his eyes and smiled. “Nice.”

 

**********

 

College orientation had been about what Julie expected it to be: boring, monotonous, and loaded with speeches that touted professors’ accomplishments and promised fascinating classes. They had been divided into smaller groups and given a more personal, non-video tour of the school, and that had been fun. Julie did her best to memorize where department buildings were so that she wouldn’t have to walk around school with the embarrassing campus map in front of her face. One might as well carry a sign that said FRESHMAN.

Afterwards, Julie took the T to Harvard Square and walked along the Charles River to get back to the Watkins’ house. It was a bit longer route, like Matt had said, but it was worth it to enjoy the scene. This would be a great place to study. She could take a blanket and sit on the grass, bring a snack, bury herself in a textbook. Who knew if she’d end up living anywhere near here, though?

She let herself into the house with the key Matt had given her. The lock on the front door was a nuisance, and it took a few minutes to get it open. She went into the kitchen to grab a drink. The fridge was positively packed with takeout cartons, and Julie had a suspicion that no one was ever going to eat the leftovers. Her phone rang, and she fumbled in her bag to find it.

She didn’t recognize the number that came up. “Hello?”

“Julie? Hey, it’s Matthew. How was school?”

“Jam-packed with stimulating information. Where are you? How’d you get my number? Don’t you have to get Celeste soon?”

“That’s why I’m calling. Is there any chance you could pick her up? I’m really sorry. One of my professors is insisting on meeting with me about the research I’m helping him with. I’m sure I could get him to reschedule, but it would look better if I didn’t.”

Julie moved a container of Thai food from the other night and took out a bottle of sparkling water. “Sure, I guess so. Is it far from here?”

“Only ten minutes or so. This meeting is important, otherwise I wouldn’t ask. You can take the car. The keys are hanging on the wall by the phone base. There should be paper there, too. I’ll give you directions. It’s easy. I promise.”

“You sure your parents won’t mind if I drive their car?”

“Not at all. They rarely use it anyway.”

Julie examined the large white pegboard on the wall that screamed obsessive-compulsive. Hooks and small compartments held everything from pens and thumbtacks, to business cards and the much-used takeout menus. She located the car keys and grabbed a sticky note and a pen. “OK, go.”

Matt gave her directions. “If you leave in ten minutes, that should give you plenty of time. Just pull the car into the drive-thru pickup in front of the school, and Celeste will be out there.” He paused. “And there’s one more thing.”

“I should bring Flat Finn?” she guessed.

Matt was silent for a moment. “Yes. The back seat is down, and there’s a blanket in there so you can cover it up.”

“You mean him.”

“What?”

“I can cover him up. Be respectful. How’d you like it if Flat Finn referred to you as an it, huh?”

“If Flat Finn referred to me as anything, I’d have a whole new respect for him. So far he’s refused to call me anything. It’s a little rude, if you ask me.”

“I’ll talk to him about it. See if I can soften him up a bit.”

“Excellent,” Matt said. “Thanks for getting Celeste. I think she’ll be OK with you being there. She seems to like you. Tell her that I’ll call her after my meeting.”

“She’ll be fine.”

“She’s rather regimented. Changes in her schedule and unexpected people—”

“She’ll be fine,” Julie repeated. “I promise.”

“You can’t promise anything—”

“Goodbye, Matthew. Have fun at your meeting.” Julie hung up before he could protest. For crying out loud, she was perfectly capable of picking up someone at school—with or without a cardboard boy in the back seat.

She ran upstairs and changed into a breezy knee-length tank dress and pinned her hair up. A quick touch-up to her makeup that had begun to smear in the heat, and she headed out the front door to get Celeste. She stopped on the front steps and spun around.

Flat Finn stood poised expectantly in the living room. Julie approached the figure. God, this was messed up. “Come on, dude. We’re off to get your pal. Now, normally people are not allowed to ride in the way back, so keep your head down, and maybe we won’t get arrested.”

She lifted up the cutout boy and tucked his waist under her arm. Figuring out how to open the front door without smashing Flat Finn was a bit of a challenge, and she had to set him on the front porch while she locked the door. She lifted the trunk open, got Flat Finn into the car, and covered him with the large blue blanket that was waiting there to conceal Celeste’s secret.

The old Volvo was blistering hot, and Julie wondered why a family that clearly had money would not bother to maintain what could be a perfectly-running car. Granted, it was a Volvo and would probably run forever no matter what. And they only had one car, too, which seemed odd since two busy professionals and a student could certainly get use out of two vehicles. Apparently, people with money did funny things sometimes.

She was pleased to note that Flat Finn had not left the gas tank empty. “Thank you, FF. I appreciate the consideration.”

Julie found Celeste’s school easily. She pulled into the arched driveway and idled behind a Lexus sedan. Students were just beginning to pour out of the front doors, and Julie scanned groups of girls, looking for Celeste. The middle school students milled around in easily identifiable social cliques, and Julie remembered exactly how it felt to be thirteen. It was such a strange age, that screwed up, early-teen time when you vacillate between desperately wanting to be a full-fledged adult and still feeling like a little kid. The torture of trying to figure out how to dress and get your eyeliner exactly like they do in music videos, which singers were cool and which singers you shouldn’t be caught dead listening to, what to do to get boys to like you and what to do if they did. Ugh. Thank God Julie that was done with that.

A girl in a miniskirt and a ponytail stepped aside, and Julie saw Celeste.  Julie dropped her head to the steering wheel, hitting her head lightly a few times. Why was Celeste wearing a pastel plaid shirt and pale blue-pleated pants? Julie lifted her head and sighed, wanting nothing more than to leap from the car and yank the dorky backpack off the girl’s shoulders. This kid stood out for all the wrong reasons. Like it or not, other kids cared about how you looked, and Celeste looked… Wrong. Gorgeous underneath the horrible clothing and totally unstyled hair, but still wrong.

But worse than how she looked was the undeniable fact that she was alone and quite obviously invisible to her peers. Julie cringed as a boy passed by Celeste, failing to notice or care that he bumped into her elbow as he joined up with a cluster of trendy T-shirt-wearing guys.

Julie beeped the horn and waved, finally getting Celeste’s attention. Celeste scanned the cars and then headed toward the Volvo. She stopped by the passenger door, her eyes wide and her face expressionless.

“Hey, kiddo. Hop in,” Julie said warmly.

Celeste stood still, waiting a moment before she spoke. “Why are you here?” There was a noticeable shake in her voice that Julie couldn’t miss.

“Matt asked me to pick you up today. He is really sorry. I guess he had something important to do at school. Celeste? It’s OK. Flat Finn is with me. He helped get me here because Matt’s directions were dreadful.”

Celeste opened the door and slipped into the seat. “Oh. This is fine.” She turned to Julie. “This really is fine.”

“Good.” Julie pulled the car out to the main road. “So what should we do?”

“What do you mean do? We go home after school.”

“Let’s do something. Come on!”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know.” Julie turned up the radio and tapped her fingers on the wheel. “I don’t even know what street I’m on right now. Maybe we’ll get lost and spend the next few hours trying to navigate our way home. We’ll listen to old-school Kelly Clarkson power songs and sing until we lose our voices.”

“That is not a good plan.” Celeste turned and peered into the back of the car. She inhaled deeply, then slowly let the air escape from her lips. “I always just go home.”

Julie took a left turn onto another main road and drove for a few minutes. “Aha!” She pulled the car into the parking lot of a supermarket. “Let’s make dinner tonight. I want to thank your parents for letting me stay at your house. Do you like Italian? I make a mean manicotti.”

“Oh.” Celeste thought for a moment. “That could be acceptable.”

“Acceptable? It’s going to be more than acceptable. Homemade tomato sauce with fresh basil? Ricotta and spinach stuffing? And my secret touch? Cheesy white sauce drizzled over the top. And we can all discuss Italian Gothic architecture or ancient Rome during dinner. I know how you guys like theme nights.”

“Or the Italian Renaissance. Dad likes the Renaissance.”

“You got it.” Julie parked the car and started to get out. But Celeste didn’t move. “Celeste? You coming?”

“Me? No. I should wait in the car. That’s what I do.”

“You don’t go into stores?”

“No.”

“Not ever?”

“No.”

This was unbelievable. Julie tightened her fist around the car keys until they dug painfully in her hand. Somebody had to fix this. She walked to the back of the car and opened the trunk. “Well, that’s too bad because FF and I wanted your help picking the best tomatoes.” She flung the blanket off Flat Finn and eased him out of the back. “So I don’t want to hear you complaining about the poor quality of the produce we select.” She slammed the trunk shut, pulled a shopping cart out from the stack next to the car, and stuck the cutout brother into the cart, angled so that his entire top half jutted out.

Celeste flew out of the car. “What are you doing?”

“Shopping. What are you doing?”

“Beginning to have a type of anxiety attack that I would prefer to avoid.e ba

“What else are you doing?”

Celeste pursed her lips together, hiding a smile. “Shopping.”

“Good. Let’s go.”

“And do not call him FF. He doesn’t care for abbreviations.”

“Tell him to stop calling me JS and I’ll consider it.”

 

 

Chapter 8

 

Matt set his messenger bag on the stool next to him and sat down at the kitchen counter. He looked at the plate in front of him. “What is this?”

“It’s a gastronomical representation of ‘Cat on a Hot Tin Roof.’” Julie put her hands on her hips. “Don’t you see it? The clear depiction of the struggle for sexual identity as evidenced by the two phallic shapes?”

Matt looked at her. “What are you talking about?”

“What are you talking about? It’s manicotti, you nut. What do you think it is?”

“I know that. I was referencing the noticeable absence of takeout cartons. You made dinner?”

“Celeste and I made dinner,” Julie corrected.

“And they did a wonderful job.” Erin swooped into the kitchen and set her wine glass down on the counter. “Thank you again, Julie. It was wonderful. I don’t remember the last time we’ve bothered to cook dinner ourselves. I’m surprised the stove is still working.” She turned to Matt. “You’re home late. How was school? Did your meeting go well?”

Matt nodded as he wiped his mouth with a napkin. Half his food was already gone. “Very good. Sorry I’m home late. And even sorrier that I’ve managed to double my workload by agreeing to be a research assistant.”

“This is with Professor Saunders, correct? He has an excellent reputation, so this is a brilliant opportunity for you.” Erin took a sip of wine.  “I do hear he’s very demanding, Matthew, so you’ll have to be incredibly diligent with your work.”

“I realize that. In fact,” Matt said as he stood up, “I should get upstairs and get to work. I’ll finish dinner up there. Thanks, Julie.” He picked up his plate and started out of the kitchen. “Hey, Julie?” He stopped in the doorway.

“Yeah?”

“So things went all right today?”

“Totally fine. I told you that when you called. Both times.”

“OK. Thanks again.”

Julie wiped down the counter and moved to the sink to start washing the pans that hadn’t fit into the dishwasher. Erin took a towel and stood next to her.

“Julie, tell me how your mother is. Until she called me the other day, I hadn’t heard her voice in years. She’s doing well?”

Julie nodded. “Yeah. She still works for her parents’ copier company as the office manager. She seems to like it.” She rinsed a saucepan and handed it to Erin.

“She’s still working for them?” Erin said with surprise. “Bless her, because I could never work for my family. Kate is a better woman than I am.”

“Erin? This might sound weird, but you and my mom seem very different. I have a hard time seeing you two as friends.” In fact, Julie found it impossible to see her mother and Erin hanging out and swapping approaches to socio-economic policies in between classes and dorm parties.

“We were. We roomed together for three out of the four years. We may be different people now, but when we were in college we were probably more alike. Your mother was an excellent student, and it came so naturally to her. Did you know that? She’s very bright. We chose different paths after we graduated, though. You mother and father were already dating, and they got married a year after they graduated. I worked for a few years and then went to law school. I was simply more career-oriented than your mother. Kate chose a path that was comfortable for her. There’s nothing wrong with that, of course. I’m glad she’s so happy.”

“Did you think she was going to go to law school or something, the way you did?”

“She could have. She certainly had the intellect. It just wasn’t what she wanted. Kate wasn’t interested in graduate school or a more prominent career. She wanted your father, and she wanted the life she got.” Erin paused. “Until… I’m sorry. That was thoughtless.”

“It’s OK. The divorce is the divorce. It happens all the time, so it’s not a big deal.”

“They separated when you were about four or five, is that right?”

Julie nodded.

“Do you see him much?”

“Once or twice a year. After the divorce his career really took off, and he just hasn’t been able to see me as much as he would like. He’s really busy with his job. He comes into town for business sometimes, so I have dinner with him when he can. It’s the nature of his work, I guess. I understand.”

“He’s still with that fancy hotel chain?”

Julie nodded. “Yup. He’s the regional vice president for the West Coast. And he’s taking me to California over winter break this year. My first Christmas without snow.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Erin said. “I’m glad you’ll have some time with him.”

“Yeah. I’m sure it will be great,” Julie said. She turned off the water. “I’m glad my mom called you.”

“I’m glad Kate called me, too.”

“I hope you know that I’ve been doing everything I can to find an apartment. I don’t want you to think you’ll have to put me up permanently.”

“Well, why not?”

“What do you mean?”

Erin shrugged and refilled her wine glass. “Why don’t you stay? Free room and board. That’s a pretty good deal, don’t you think? You shouldn’t have to worry about rent and bills, and all that nonsense when you should be focusing on school.”

“I couldn’t let you put me up all year. That doesn’t seem right.”

“If you have morning classes, then you could take care of Celeste in the afternoons. How about that? She enjoys you. I noticed her hair looked different tonight. Did you do something to it?”

“Oh, yeah,” Julie said distractedly. “I did a quick French braid for her. She seemed to like it. So, seriously?  You would really be OK with me staying here?”

“Absolutely. What’s the big deal? Although I understand that you might prefer to live with friends and experience a more traditional undergraduate social life. You’re an adult now, so you should certainly set your own schedule here. I have no interest in monitoring your every move. You’re obviously smart and responsible.”

Julie thought for a quick moment. Why not? She’d save her mom a ton of money, and if she found a good deal on an apartment in a few months, she could always move out then. “I’d love to stay, Erin. Really. That’s incredibly generous of you. I assume you need to talk to Roger about this, though, and I understand if he doesn’t want an unexpected boarder.”

Erin waved her hand dismissively. “He won’t mind in the least. Besides, he’s going off on his trip soon, and we could use an extra hand. And this way Matthew can really apply himself to his studies.”

Julie smiled. “OK, then. This sounds great. I like Celeste. A lot.”

“Good. Not everyone is respectful of her choices,” Erin said pointedly. “You are. Then it’s settled.” She raised her glass in a toast. “Welcome home.”

“You’re a lifesaver. Thank you so much,” Julie said happily. “I’ll go grab the rest of the things from the dinner table.”

She started collecting the salt and pepper shakers and the placemats. God, what a relief! This was actually much better than being in a cramped apartment with a bunch of other girls. She’d still be on campus enough to make friends, and now she didn’t have to stress out over money or even contemplate going to her father for help. Not that he’d offered, but she knew he would come through if she asked. Of course he would.

Even with four people in the Watkins’ house, it seemed like a wonderfully quiet place to get work done, so she wouldn’t have to yell at roommates to turn down music at three in the morning or put a pillow over her head to block out the all-night rager in the building next door. It’s not what every eighteen-year-old would want, but it’s what Julie wanted.

“I don’t know how to thank you.” Julie set the placemats and plates on the counter. “I hope Finn won’t mind my moving into his room. Will he be back soon? He didn’t say when I emailed him.”

“You’ve been in touch with Finn?” Erin didn’t hide the surprise in her voice. “I didn’t know you two… I didn’t know. How… funny.”

“Yeah. Just a quick message to introduce myself. I guess I felt strange about staying in his room without his knowing.”

“The room is all yours.” Erin smiled. “Now go run upstairs and unpack. We can’t have you living out of suitcases, can we?”

“OK. Thank you so much for letting me stay.” Julie headed up the stairs to settle in. No more worrying, no more looking at cockroach-infested slum apartments!

Tonight, Flat Finn stood outside Celeste’s bedroom door, tirelessly guarding her while she finished her homework. “S’up, Flat Finn?” Julie leaned in and whispered to the cardboard head, “You and I will be spending more time together, so I expect continued model behavior. Deal? You’re thinking about it? I understand. Let me know. Excuse me while I go to your namesake’s room and unpack. We’ll talk later.”

 Julie went in to what was now her room and looked around. She could happily stay here. A large shelf that held travel guides, photo albums, a series of thick books on rocks and minerals, and a stack of old Time and Newsweek magazines still left plenty of room for her things. As a whole, the room was a little sparse in some places, which was good because she could easily fill up the empty space.

She unzipped her suitcase and began putting away her now very wrinkled clothes and the few pairs of shoes she’d crammed into the bags. The dresser was empty except for two things: a frayed, navy blue T-shirt with the outline of a skydiver that read, Don’t forget to pull, and an old sweatshirt that read, Skydivers like to do it in groups. Clearly Julie had moved into the witty–shirt-family’s house.

She pulled her laptop onto the bed and messaged Finn again through Facebook.

 

Dear Finn-

Hope you don’t mind if I hang in your room for a little longer. Your mom suggested I ditch the impossible idea of trying to find a Boston apt. and stay here. Mornings at college, afternoons with Celeste, and evenings defending your room against monsters.

Being a girl and all, I’m resisting the urge to immediately paint your bedroom pink and plaster the wall with pictures of unicorns and rainbows. No promises on how long I can hold out.

How is South Africa? Celeste is waiting for pictures… Hint, hint.

-Julie

 

 She put on her robe, gathered what she needed to take into the shower, and went into the hall. As she passed Matthew’s room, she could hear soft conversation behind his closed door. He and Erin were talking, and even without being able about to make out any words, Julie could tell that the tone of their talk was less than jovial. In fact, they were having a muffled argument. She kept walking and shut the bathroom door.

The hot shower felt wonderful, and she let the water steam up the room while she decompressed. It was a relief to be done worrying about unpleasant logistical issues. Hanging out with Celeste would be cool. OK, maybe cool wasn’t the right word. Unique, unusual, interesting, and challenging. All of Julie’s favorites.  Plus, it was impossible not to wonder what Flat Finn was all about.

When she got back to her bedroom, she threw on her usual bedtime outfit, a pair of lightweight pajama bottoms and a tank, and turned on the television.  She found a good celebrity gossip show and left it on in the background while she sat in bed with her computer. A number of her friends had emailed her with stories about their first days at college, rumors about her ex-boyfriend, and early complaints about the miseries of campus dining. She wrote her friends back and then read a message from Finn.

 

Julie-

OMG, I love pink! And unicorns! And rainbows! Really. So awesome!  I’ve always wanted one of those super cute posters of a kitten dangling from a tree limb that says “Hang in there!” Maybe you can find one? My room is gonna be, like, totally the best ever! Julie, you’re a peach! J

South Africa is definitely fantastic. Rehabilitating elephants this week. Did you know elephant rehab is very similar to human rehab? Well, it is. Except that we don’t have hideous artwork hanging on the walls. But we do allow cell phones. Elephants get wicked pissed when they can’t call their loved ones or order out for pizza. Canoeing tomorrow and then sleeping in the bush under the stars.  

Good luck with the family. Here’s a free tip: Matt is a geek.

Tell my girl that I’ll send pictures very soon. I’m not the tech nerd that my brother is, but I’ll do my best.

-Finn

 

For some reason, Julie found it reassuring that Finn was as quirky as the rest of the family.

 

Finn-

KNEW you’d like the new décor! Will search faithfully for coveted kitten poster.

Thanks for the help with the monsters. Worked like a charm. No other tips needed just yet. Your family is very nice. Took Flat Finn grocery shopping, and although I suspect he considered stealing a can of artichoke hearts, he restrained himself. He did, however, eat a handful of trail mix from the bulk bins, but everyone does that.

Yes, Matt is a bit geeky. He’s rather proud of that, huh?  I should get another free tip since that one was a no-brainer. And will there be a fee for others? I’m on a student budget. I could probably do with a Celeste tip. I’m rather unclear on the Flat Finn situation.

And I can’t resist asking: What’s up with your “Finn is God” Facebook name?

-Julie

 

Finn must still be online because he replied right away.

 

Julie-

No worries. House tips will come free of charge.

“Finn Is God” is my attempt to start a new religion. I’m working on a merchandise line now, because all good religions come with fashionable accessories. And I wanna be rich.

-Finn

 

Finn-

I’ll take a “Finn Is God” tote bag and a visor.

-Julie

 

 

Chapter 9

Matthew Watkins “Sometimes it is useful to know how large your zero is.” –Author Unknown.

Finn Is God In order for this status update to make any sense, I need you to assume I’m covered in some sort of spray-based cheese product.

Julie Seagle thinks that Twitter is like Facebook’s slutty cousin. It does everything dumb and whore-ish you’re too responsible to do

 

“What’s in this one?” Celeste asked.

“I have no idea. Open it up.” Julie handed Celeste the scissors and let her cut the tape off the cardboard box. Her room had quickly turned into a disaster area now that the rest of her things had arrived. She had her puffy comforter on the bed and one box of clothes put away.

Celeste opened the box flaps and peered in. “It appears that a beauty parlor has exploded in this box.”

“Ooooh, nice!” Julie clapped her hands and turned up the music. “Now, if we can just find the box with the shirt I want to wear tonight, I’ll be set.”

Dana had texted her earlier and demanded that Julie meet her at a dorm party that night. Jamie had promised he would come, too, and Dana was evidently unable to pick out an appropriate outfit without Julie’s divine fashion sense.

“Celeste, will you pull out the black bag in there for me? Pick out a nail polish color.” Julie walked across the bed and hopped to the floor, narrowly missing crashing into Flat Finn, and grabbed more hangers from the closet.

“You have too many colors in here to choose from,” Celeste said, as she pulled out nail polish bottles and set them in a row on the rug.