Read Online Paper Things by Jennifer Richard Jacobson - Free Book Online Page A

right?” the airplane man asks. I nod. “I have something for you,” he says, and reaches into his coat. He pulls out a paper airplane. It’s long and sleek and much more elaborately folded than I expected. He holds it between his thumb and fingers on one hand so I can get a better look. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a paper airplane that appears so
real.
    “Wow, thanks!” I say. Then I realize that I don’t actually know his name.
    “Reggie,” he says, seeming to read my mind.
    “Thanks, Reggie,” I say. The deep wrinkles around his eyes disappear as he smiles.
    Just then something whizzes by us and ricochets off the side of the building, nearly hitting Amelia in the head. It’s a chunk of brick — a big chunk.
    “Get a job!” a guy about Gage’s age yells as he walks past.
    “Did he . . . did he just throw a
brick
at us?” I ask, shocked.
    Reggie shakes his head slowly. “Not at us. At me.” He leans down and holds Amelia’s head in his hands, then looks in her eyes. “Wonder how so much hate grows in a person that young.”
    “I’m so sorry, Reggie,” I say, kicking the brick into the gutter.
    “No sense worrying yourself about it,” he says, straightening back up. “I’m just glad you and Amelia didn’t get hit.”
    I nod and give Amelia one last pat. “I’ve got to get going,” I tell them. “But thanks again for the plane — it’s terrific!”
    Reggie gives a little salute, and I race back to the studio. I’m nearly there when I realize that I didn’t even think to offer Reggie any of the change I’d collected today. Sure, I’d been searching extra hard to make up for the money I’d given him earlier this week, but the least I could have done was give him
some
of what I’d found today. After all, nobody was throwing bricks at my head and telling me to get a job.
    And maybe it’s because I’m so distracted thinking about the brick and Reggie and Amelia and my plane and the money I’d collected, but when I enter Briggs’s apartment and see Janna standing there, I’m not startled.
    “Hi,” I say, my eyes hopping from Janna to Gage and back.
    “There you are,” she says, like we had an appointment or something. She has a scarf wrapped around her neck, and she’s leaning against the counter with her arms folded. Gage is standing over some boxes on the floor, boxes she must have brought. Chloe is nowhere in sight.
    “So your brother lets you walk around the city on your own, huh?” Janna asks, in her judge-y voice.
    I frown. “I was just at the park around the corner. Then I ran into —”
    “It’s OK, Ari,” Gage says. “I told Janna where you were and that you wouldn’t be gone long.”
    Janna grunts and then looks around. “So, this is cute,” she says, a sweep of her arm indicating the entire studio. “And the decorations are certainly . . . festive. But unless there’s another room, I’m guessing you have to sleep here?” Her judge-y voice is back on, big time. “And where are all your things? Your boots and books and such,” she says, frowning at my wet and ratty shoes.
    And that’s when it hits me: Janna thinks this is our place — mine and Gage’s! I try to catch Gage’s eye, to see if I’m supposed to play along, but he won’t look at me.
    “This is just temporary,” Gage says. “Until we can find something better.” Well, that’s true, at least.
    “Actually,” says Janna, “I’m surprised you were able to afford something in this building . . . in the West End. You must have been squirreling away money your entire senior year.”
    “We’re subletting,” says Gage quickly.
    I watch Janna closely, wondering if she’s buying this.
    Janna nods and walks around slowly, examining the objects in the room. Most of it is Briggs’s crazy party-supply stuff, but I notice that my Louisa May Alcott books are on the table, and my piggy bank has been taken down from on top of the cabinets and placed on the kitchen counter. I also notice that