One Lonely Degree by C. K. Kelly Martin Read Free Book Online Page A

housewarming gift, ensuring that I feel more awkward than necessary, and rings the doorbell.
    “Hi.” The girl standing in the open doorway has cropped white-blond hair and is a few years older than me but miles shorter. Her khaki cargo pants have to be three inches longer than her legs, but everything else is in proportion.
    Anna appears in the doorway behind her, opens the door wider, and motions for us to come in. “Christina, you remember Gloria and her daughter, Finn?”
    “Sure,” Christina says. We exchange shy smiles. I’m surprised to see her. I figured she’d be away at university.
    I hand over the housewarming gift and Anna takes our coats. “Show Finn downstairs, would you, honey?” she says.
    Christina nods and leads the way, glancing over her shoulder at me. “So you go to the same school as Jersy?” She’s so pretty that it’s hard not to stare. She was always pretty, I guess, but that’s not the first thing you notice when you’re six.
    “Yeah, St. Mark’s.” My voice bristles with bitterness, and Christina laughs. Her laugh sounds like a female version of Jersy’s, and that makes me even more self-conscious.
    “Sounds fantastic.” She opens the basement door, and I step in after her. Downstairs Jersy’s sprawled out on the couch with his eyes shut and his hands tucked into his underarms. Beyoncé’s bopping around the TV, “Crazy in Love,” and I want to climb back upstairs and sit in the car until Mom’s ready to leave. This is the last place on earth I should be after what Audrey told me.
    Christina bends down and taps Jersy’s arm. “Wake up.”
    But Jersy must be in a coma or something, because he doesn’t budge. A beeping noise chirps behind us, and Christina slides her hand into her back pocket and pulls out her cell phone. “Text message,” she tells me, punching the keys. “Hold on a sec.”
    I balance myself on the couch’s arm and stare vacantly at Beyoncé. Jersy’s feet are within easy reach, and he’s so still that I’m tempted to touch him. I look down at his legs, commanding myself to keep my hands to myself, and when I switch my gaze to his face, his eyes are staring back at mine. “How long have you been there?” he asks.
    “Not long.” I look at Christina behind me.
    “Great,” she says, her gaze taking in the now conscious Jersy. “I’ll see you later, Finn.” Her feet are on the stairs before I can say goodbye.
    “Later,” I shout after her, and then it’s just Jersy, Beyoncé, and me. “This song sucks,” I tell him, motioning to the TV.
    His hands are still stuck in his armpits, and he blinks like I’mbeing a pain. “So who do you like—white guys with British accents who stand around with guitars?”
    There’s nothing wrong with British accents and guitars, but I don’t say so. I don’t want him to think he knows something about me after two conversations. I watch him root around under the cushions for the remote and hum to himself as he peers under the couch.
    “I lose things all the time,” he admits finally, collapsing back onto the couch in a semi-upright position. “I still don’t know where half my stuff is since the move.” He pulls at one of his sleeves, working his entire hand inside it.
    A chill begins in the base of my spine as I stare at the disappearing hand.
Everything is fine
, I tell myself.
You’re fine. Nothing ever happened in the first place
. But the chill takes hold. It could slide into panic if I’m not careful.
You’re all right. Everything is fine
.
    And then it is. Christina must’ve left the door open; I can vaguely make out our moms’ voices in the background, and the sound brings a rush of relief. It’s true. I am all right.
    “So why’d you move anyway?” I ask. I’m terrible at small talk at the best of times. It has nothing to do with lacking iron.
    “Are you gonna sit down?” Jersy asks.
    I’m so tense I’d forgotten I was perched on the armrest. “Sure,” I say, sliding down