Never Enough by Denise Jaden Read Free Book Online

with the sailboat is cool.”
    Marcus turned and studied it for a minute. Nodded. “Looks scary,” he said, turning back.
    It did. That’s why I liked it. The tiny wooden boat was weathered, with its sail torn almost in two. It didn’t look like it could survive the swelling wave headed for it. But somehow I knew it could. It just had to stay strong. I always liked rooting for the underdog, the ugly duckling. I guess I felt a kinship with them.
    “Yeah,” I answered.
    When I brought up the drama set, Marcus gave me the same vague response about figuring something out together. I liked the sound of “together,” but at the same time, “Loann’s like my sister” kept ringing in my head.
    I changed the subject and told him about my family to remind him we weren’t related.
    “Remember the girl who was at my locker?” I asked. “She’s my sister. Claire.”
    He nodded in a show of recognition. I braced my hands on the edge of my chair. When other students found out that Claire and I were siblings, a myriad of things followed: wanting to be introduced, needing to know every last detail about her, grasping for some explanation of how I’d come from the same gene pool.
    “You don’t look much alike,” he said, eyeing the checkers game again, clearly bored with this topic.
    I couldn’t quite think of a response. “Duh,” would have worked, I guess, but somehow Marcus seemed genuine in his response. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever really met anyone so genuine in my life. I kept quiet and waited for him to share something about himself. But apparently he needed some prodding.
    “So what about your family?”
    Marcus looked out the window and nibbled at his lip. Had I asked something wrong? Maybe his parents had split up. Maybe one of them had died. Or maybe I was way off and he just didn’t like to talk about his boring home life.
    But then he gestured to the checkers game and said, “Armando, he’s my uncle,” so fast I barely caught it.
    I glanced over at the old man and smiled. Armando was focused on his game and didn’t look up. I turned my smile back to Marcus. “Do you live with him?”
    Marcus tilted his head a little and pulled his eyebrows together like my question didn’t make sense. “Um. No,” he said slowly, but there was an edge to his voice.
    I squinted. “So that’s why you like to come here?” I asked.
    His hands fumbled over one another on the table, and the motion made me nervous. “That’s . . . one reason,” he said. There was clearly more to the story. But it felt like an invisible barrier had gone up between us. This subject was off-limits.
    We sat for a little more than an hour before I decided to head out. Mom would be home anytime after five, andit seemed easier to be there, like normal, than to answer a bunch of questions.
    Marcus didn’t offer to walk me home. He told me to take my cup to the counter before I left. “Armando’s old,” he added. Then Marcus reached over and squeezed my hand as I stood to deliver my mug.
    It was only a light touch, and he didn’t try to hold it or anything. But my heart skipped all the way to the counter.
    When I turned back toward the door, I looked over at Marcus, expecting a smile or a nod or . . . something. But he just stared out the window, lost in thought.

CHAPTER SEVEN
     
    “You want to go to the Arts Club Café again?” Marcus asked first thing the next day. I thought it was odd that the place had a name, since there didn’t seem to be a sign.
    “I don’t have any money,” I told him.
    “I’ll get it this time.”
    I smiled. It might not be a date, but it felt good to have someone want to hang out with me.
    “You can pay me back,” he added, taking a little notch out of my grin.
    After school, Marcus and I headed straight to the café, where we talked more about the art on the walls. He used words like “existentialism,” which I planned to Wiki when I got home.
    An hour later, we ran out of things to say and