Read Online Paper Things by Jennifer Richard Jacobson - Free Book Online
Authors: Jennifer Richard Jacobson
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falls back on her bed, laughing. For some reason Marianna got two of every Lands’ End catalog. Sasha loved cutting out duplicate kids for twins.
“Yeah, and then you gave me another catalog and I had triplets, too!” she said.
“It was so much fun,” I say.
“Yeah,” she says.
She stands, and I think maybe she’s going to dig around in her closet where she used to keep her shoe box of Paper Things. That she’ll want to build our world again.
Instead she just sort of stretches, then shakes her head. “God, we were such
dorks,
” she says.
I place my Paper Things back inside the folder, the folder back inside my backpack.
“Yeah,” I say. “Dorks.”
Sasha has church on Sunday morning at ten, so Gage and Chloe come for me right after breakfast. Briggs is away until tomorrow, so they’ve had the studio all to themselves.
I feel a splash of warmth as we burst out the door of Sasha’s apartment building onto the sidewalk. The sun is shining, the snow is melting. It’s one of those end-of-March days in Maine that feel like a present — a little reminder that spring
is
here, even if the warm days won’t really arrive (and stay) for about two more months. My Language Arts teacher would call this day “foreshadowing,” I think — foreshadowing spring. Too bad I don’t get extra credit for knowing that.
I reach down to pick up a penny, determined to make up for the fourteen cents I gave away on Friday.
“What are you going to buy with all that money?” asks Chloe, who knows about my daisy piggy bank at Briggs’s.
“An apartment.”
Chloe laughs.
“She’s not kidding,” says Gage, bending to pick up what we think is a nickel but turns out to be a souvenir coin of some sort. Neat but worthless. He chucks it aside.
“Not the rent,” I clarify. “But once Gage gets a steady job and we find an apartment, I can help out with stuff like shampoo and toilet paper and toothpaste.”
“Yeah, then you can stop using mine,” Chloe says as she bumps shoulders with Gage. We both know she’s kidding, but I still steal a glance at Gage’s face to see if his pride’s hurt. It looks like it would take a lot more than a little teasing today to bring my brother down.
When we get to the playground near Briggs’s, I ask Gage if I can stay awhile. The place can be a treasure trove of dropped coins from adults chasing their kids on the old jungle gym or the rickety teeter-totter.
Gage looks around to see if there’s any cause for concern. “All right,” he tells me, “but be back at Briggs’s in one hour.”
Sasha and Linnie are always complaining about how easily I find money. They don’t get how they miss it and I spot it every time. But it’s not just the looking; it’s
how
you look. When you first look down, you see everything — and nothing. It’s as if your eyes can see only grayness. But if you tell yourself that there’s treasure at your feet, your eyes will begin to see differences in the shades of gray: silvery cracks, charcoal pebbles, ashy litter. Then, when you find your first glimmering coin, your brain will understand exactly what you want, and it will start to find coins everywhere. It just takes patience.
So once I start finding coins under the benches, at the bottom of the slide, and all around the busted water fountain, I don’t want to stop. I look at my watch and see that fifty minutes have gone by, but I tell myself,
Just one more.
Then:
OK, really one more.
And then:
Absolutely, positively just one more. Promise!
I look at my watch again — holy moly, the whole hour has passed! I know I better hightail it back to Briggs’s.
I race down the sidewalk, and I’m about a block away from the apartment building when I see the airplane man and Amelia, heading straight for me.
“Hi!” I say. Amelia wriggles happily as I approach. I reach out my hand and brush it over her from the top of her head, down her tickly back, to the fur right before her tail.
“Arianna,
“Yeah, and then you gave me another catalog and I had triplets, too!” she said.
“It was so much fun,” I say.
“Yeah,” she says.
She stands, and I think maybe she’s going to dig around in her closet where she used to keep her shoe box of Paper Things. That she’ll want to build our world again.
Instead she just sort of stretches, then shakes her head. “God, we were such
dorks,
” she says.
I place my Paper Things back inside the folder, the folder back inside my backpack.
“Yeah,” I say. “Dorks.”
Sasha has church on Sunday morning at ten, so Gage and Chloe come for me right after breakfast. Briggs is away until tomorrow, so they’ve had the studio all to themselves.
I feel a splash of warmth as we burst out the door of Sasha’s apartment building onto the sidewalk. The sun is shining, the snow is melting. It’s one of those end-of-March days in Maine that feel like a present — a little reminder that spring
is
here, even if the warm days won’t really arrive (and stay) for about two more months. My Language Arts teacher would call this day “foreshadowing,” I think — foreshadowing spring. Too bad I don’t get extra credit for knowing that.
I reach down to pick up a penny, determined to make up for the fourteen cents I gave away on Friday.
“What are you going to buy with all that money?” asks Chloe, who knows about my daisy piggy bank at Briggs’s.
“An apartment.”
Chloe laughs.
“She’s not kidding,” says Gage, bending to pick up what we think is a nickel but turns out to be a souvenir coin of some sort. Neat but worthless. He chucks it aside.
“Not the rent,” I clarify. “But once Gage gets a steady job and we find an apartment, I can help out with stuff like shampoo and toilet paper and toothpaste.”
“Yeah, then you can stop using mine,” Chloe says as she bumps shoulders with Gage. We both know she’s kidding, but I still steal a glance at Gage’s face to see if his pride’s hurt. It looks like it would take a lot more than a little teasing today to bring my brother down.
When we get to the playground near Briggs’s, I ask Gage if I can stay awhile. The place can be a treasure trove of dropped coins from adults chasing their kids on the old jungle gym or the rickety teeter-totter.
Gage looks around to see if there’s any cause for concern. “All right,” he tells me, “but be back at Briggs’s in one hour.”
Sasha and Linnie are always complaining about how easily I find money. They don’t get how they miss it and I spot it every time. But it’s not just the looking; it’s
how
you look. When you first look down, you see everything — and nothing. It’s as if your eyes can see only grayness. But if you tell yourself that there’s treasure at your feet, your eyes will begin to see differences in the shades of gray: silvery cracks, charcoal pebbles, ashy litter. Then, when you find your first glimmering coin, your brain will understand exactly what you want, and it will start to find coins everywhere. It just takes patience.
So once I start finding coins under the benches, at the bottom of the slide, and all around the busted water fountain, I don’t want to stop. I look at my watch and see that fifty minutes have gone by, but I tell myself,
Just one more.
Then:
OK, really one more.
And then:
Absolutely, positively just one more. Promise!
I look at my watch again — holy moly, the whole hour has passed! I know I better hightail it back to Briggs’s.
I race down the sidewalk, and I’m about a block away from the apartment building when I see the airplane man and Amelia, heading straight for me.
“Hi!” I say. Amelia wriggles happily as I approach. I reach out my hand and brush it over her from the top of her head, down her tickly back, to the fur right before her tail.
“Arianna,
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