Read Online Thin Space by Jody Casella - Free Book Online

the sun when I cross the street. It’s not a busy intersection. That night it seemed dead too. I thought we were the only car sliding through.
    I wasn’t paying attention. Only one part of me was gripping the wheel, watching the road. When the other car turned, the headlights whirled in an arc, blinding me. When I could see again, I was kicking the brake. But all the while, I was watching his face too. How bright it was in that light, how his mouth stretched open, how his eyes widened. He grabbed my arm. No sound for a second, and then the crunch of metal, and his body pushing forward, his face still turned. He was staring at me when his head struck the glass.
    Drunk driver, I found out later. It was almost stereotypical how it played out. Guy on his third DUI, hurtling home from a bar, ran a stop sign. Turned left going fifty miles an hour. Of course, that guy stumbled away from the wreck. Don’t they always?
    Too bad my brother wasn’t wearing his seatbelt.
    See, Mrs. Golden, that part was my fault too. Get it? He unbuckled his seatbelt because of me.
    I stop, suck in my breath, try to push my mind past it, but a little seeps through. Look. When are you going to get over it? That’s the way it is. It’s how it’s always been. You know what? Just freaking stop the car and let me—
    Out.
    Somehow I’m leaning against a light pole at the intersection. The metal jabs into my back. My feet are sunken into slush. My socks are wet now, my feet icy. It was stupid to come here. If there were a thin space, it would probably be inside the car. Technically, that’s where he left the world.
    According to the rules though, it wouldn’t be enough. He would’ve had to come through there too. We didn’t even own that stupid car until last spring. Big sixteenth-birthday present from our parents.
    I am sick of these rules. It’s too hard to make a thin space. Too hard to find one. In the end, all roads lead back to Mrs. Hansel’s house, and there’s nothing to do—nothing—but get back in there and try—
    “Marsh?”
    I jerk my head around. Is that Kate?
    She’s slumped against a big oak tree at the edge of someone’s front yard. I feel sorry for whoever lives there because after the accident, their lawn became the unofficial memorial site for my brother. Even now I see a few reminders sticking out of the snow. A frozen chunk of brown flowers. A half-deflated football. My mother comes down here, collects the stuff every few days. She doesn’t want it to getrained on, she says. And now she’s got it stacked up in my bedroom.
    I used to come down here a lot at first too. But it wasn’t to look at the memorial junk. Still had my leg brace on then, but I managed to drag my bare feet over the whole area. The stones on the street. The curb. It was a long shot. I knew that even then.
    “I’ve never seen you here before,” Kate says. She doesn’t look at me, I notice.
    “I’ve never seen you here either.” I try to help her out by keeping my face turned to the side.
    “I come here a lot.”
    Jeez, Kate. Give it a damn rest.
    “It’s really . . . hard for me.” She keeps her eyes lowered like she’s analyzing her boots. “I know it’s . . . it must be hard . . . for you too.”
    You don’t know the half of it.
    “So if, well, I just wanted you to know that I wasn’t trying to avoid . . . well, I’m just having a hard time . . . seeing—”
    “I know,” I say. Funny thing about Kate—once upon a time she was a cool girlfriend. Logan too. We were pretty lucky to have hooked up with them, really—twin brothers getting to date best friends. Or maybe Kate and Logan aren’t friends anymore. I don’t know about now, after everything. I get a sick image of us, outside the movie theater, and I have to shove my hands in my pockets to keep from pounding the light pole. Stupid, that Logan once called us a love square. Her chirpy phrase for the four of us, instead of a love triangle. Which she and