Thin Space Read Online Free PDF Page A

of boxes and furniture. There’s a couch wedged over the space where Mrs. Hansel’s bed used to be.
    “It’s slanty,” New Girl says, reminding me she’s still there.
    “What?” I squint at this obstacle course, wonder how I’m going to plow my way across the room.
    “The floor. It’s slanty.” She tilts her head toward the chaos. “We’re probably just going to keep all the furniture againstthe fireplace since it’s going to slide down in that direction anyway.”
    “Huh?” My heart’s slamming so loud in my chest, she’s got to hear it. But what do I care? I hardly know this girl. I flex my feet and take another step, nudging a box aside with my knee. I’m about ten feet away from the fireplace. All that stands between it and me are two couches, a coffee table, and about twenty boxes. What’s the right way to do this? Do I just climb over, move the boxes, step in—
    “Is your house like this—slanty?”
    “Uh, no.” A laugh escapes.
    “Hey, you want a snack or something?” She starts walking down the hall. I watch her ponytail swish back and forth. For a second I’m flashing back to Kate and Logan. How their ponytails did that too. I shake the image away because New Girl’s chattering.
    “Don’t you just love this? Now here’s a room that says fruit explosion.”
    I blink at her. She’s waving at something in the kitchen. “Well?” she says. It sounds like whale.
    I don’t know what she’s talking about. I drag myself toward her, poke my head into the room. I guess she means the wallpaper? Never really noticed it before, but she’s right. The pattern’s got every kind of fruit spattered across it—grapes, apples, oranges, and some unidentifiable greenish fruit that might be melon.
    “It’s a miracle there’s still some left,” she says, pulling a half-eaten pie out of the refrigerator. “Sam inhaled most of it last night.”
    “Sam?”
    “My brother. You want a piece?”
    I look over my shoulder, down the hallway. Which leads to the front room. Which leads to the thin space. Can I be this close? Again? And not take advantage of it?
    “Pie?” she drawls.
    “Pa,” I hear myself repeat. “Yeah. Sure.” What the hell is wrong with me?
    We sit across from each other and eat pie—it’s not half bad. Thanks, Mrs. Golden! And I tell myself I’m being productive by dragging my feet back and forth across the floor. I know the thin space is in the other room, but who’s to say there isn’t another gateway in this house?
    “The lady who used to live here,” New Girl says. “You knew her?”
    Ha ha. You don’t know the half of it. “Yeah. Mrs. Hansel was an interesting person.”
    “I’m sorry,” she says, and I don’t know why at first. The thing is I did like Mrs. Hansel once I got to know her. And the last time I saw her, after the accident, she was the only person who—
    The front door slams and a deep voice calls out, “Hey.” The guy striding down the hall has a lacrosse stick slung over his shoulder, all his gear dangling off it in a neat little pack. “Madison?” he says. He stops in the kitchen doorway when he sees me.
    I rise partway out of my chair.
    He thrusts out a hand. “Marsh Windsor, right?” He gives my fingers a twist before letting my hand go.
    “You’re, uh, Sam,” I say. I was right. He’s the guy I saw at lunch. Close up, his cheeks aren’t pink like his sister’s. They’re red, which just makes him look mad.
    He props his lacrosse stuff against the counter, grabs the pie tin off the table. “Heard you play football.”
    “Not this year,” I say.
    “Heard that too,” he grunts out the words, openly gaping at my feet.
    My toes twitch self-consciously. “You’re going out for lacrosse?”
    “Yeah. Played defense last year in Nashville.”
    “Nashville. Cool,” I say, like I’ve been there. This small talk is killing me. Plus, I’m getting the feeling Sam’s not too thrilled about me being in his kitchen. “Well, it was