Read Online Thin Space by Jody Casella - Free Book Online Page B

“You think we should get out of this?” I say. “You know, go inside?”
    She takes a step back and her foot slides in the snow. I reach out and touch her arm to steady her. “I don’t know. Sam . . . ”
    “He doesn’t want me in your house.” Why does this surprise me? Has anything about this whole ordeal ever been easy? “So where is he?”
    “Out with his friends, I guess. I don’t know. I told him—” Maddie blinks at me. Snow wets her cheeks, her hair. “Hey, do you ever wish you could go back in time, do something over?”
    I sigh again. Don’t I wish that every second of my life? But I don’t say that, of course, and I also don’t say that if things go like I plan, right this moment, I’m going to get my chance. “Come on. You’re freezing. Let’s go inside.”
    We stamp our feet in the entryway. It’s not much warmer inside the house, but at least it’s dry. Maddie pulls off her jacket. “I’m going to grab another sweater,” she tells me. She runs upstairs.
    My heart’s thumping when I kick off my clogs, peel off my socks. But now that I’m in here again, peering into the front room, my head’s clear. This time it’s going to work. This time it has to.
    I march in, start at the corner, pace the floor. I walk the first wooden board, slowly, careful to press my foot all the way down, keep it there as I slide forward. When I reach the wall, I turn, leaving no gaps, and walk the next board.
    Maddie’s back in the entryway, but I pretend I don’t see her. I’m on the fifth board, moving along like I’m skiing. When I hit the corner of a throw rug, I pause, nudge it up with my feet, and skim under that too. I’m not sure how rugs work with thin spaces. I’m not taking any chances.
    Eighth board and Maddie’s in front of me, blocking my way. She’s wrapped in a sweater but still shivering. “Tell me what you’re doing,” she says.
    I consider lifting her up, moving her out of my path. It doesn’t seem right somehow. I don’t know what is right anymore. “Please,” I say, and I don’t care that my voice cracks. “I have to do this.”
    She puts her hands on her hips. Then miraculously she steps aside. I’m past the section where Mrs. Hansel’s bed was, way past it, but I keep going. Maddie helps me roll up the rug. When I hit the couch, she helps me push that out of the way too. I can’t imagine what she’s thinking.
    I glide across the whole room. I don’t stop until I’m in the entryway. Then I don’t know what to do next. I sag against the wall. There’s nothing to do but stuff my feet back into my socks and freaking blue clogs.
    Maddie sways in front of me. “Marsh,” she says.
    I push my aching fist against my eyes.
    “You’re going to tell me now, right?” She draws the word out.
    I am out of options. I let my hand fall to my side. I look down at Maddie. I don’t believe I’m doing it. But I tell her.



9
Truth—Or Something Like It
    W e sit in front of the fireplace, legs crossed, facing each other. Maddie keeps chewing her bottom lip. “I’m trying to understand how it all works,” she says.
    Oh God. What possessed me to spill this story to some girl I hardly know? To some girl who without a doubt is thinking I’m the biggest lunatic she’s ever laid eyes on? Who’s got an overprotective brother who’ll probably come after me with his lacrosse stick if he catches me in here with his sister?
    I look down at the floor between us. I want it to swallow me up. I want to drop into it. Disappear. I am such an idiot.
    “But I guess it makes sense, sort of, too,” she says, and I blink at her. “A place where the same soul came in and went out. There’s a logic to it. I don’t get how Mrs. Hansel would know that, though. How she knew where exactly . . . ”
    “I know. My brother, he said the same thing to her. But she was sure of it. She had it all worked out.” I can’t believe I amhaving this conversation. Later I’ll probably regret