Porcelain Keys by Sarah Beard Read Free Book Online Page A

forward and stared at his eye, but all I noticed was that they were the same bright blue as Thomas’s.
    “Come on, Dad,” Thomas groaned as he walked back into the room. His cheerful countenance had returned, and he offered an apologetic smile. “Do I have to be embarrassed by both my parents tonight?”
    “I’m just showing her something. Here, Thomas,” he said, standing up. “Sit down across from Aria.”
    Thomas indulged his dad and sat down across from me.
    “Now, lean in close.” Thomas leaned toward me. “Both of you.” I leaned forward until our faces were a foot apart.
    As Hal explained the theory of iridology and how certain lines in Thomas’s eyes could be linked to childhood illnesses, I was more intrigued by how gazing into Thomas’s eyes made me feel. My heart seemed to beat a little faster, and a nervous flutter grazed my insides. The slight curve of his lips made me wonder if he felt it too. His eyes were expressive, filled with a thousand untold stories. There was something else in his eyes—something I recognizedbecause I saw it every time I looked in the mirror: pain. Not the acute, fleeting type, but the kind that nails down stakes and stays for a while. It was barely noticeable, but it was there.
    “You going to read my palms next?” Thomas asked with a smirk.
    “No—but you’ve given me an idea for my next project.”
    “My dad writes magazine articles,” Thomas explained, leaning back into his folding chair.
    “For what kind of magazine?”
    “Any magazine, any topic imaginable. Gardening to robots.” Hal folded his arms proudly across his chest. “Something sparks my interest, so I learn about it, then write about it so other people can learn about it too.”
    Elsie didn’t come back into the room as we talked, and Thomas occasionally threw a concerned glance at the hallway.
    “Thomas,” Hal said, “maybe you could set up the telescopes this week for your mom. She could probably use some sky time after all the work we’ve been doing.”
    “Already done. The tree house needs some cleaning up though. And one of the windows is broken.”
    A little gasp escaped my lips as I remembered that Mom’s music notebook was still sitting in the cabinet there.
    Thomas glanced at me curiously, and I pushed out my chair. “I should go,” I said, eager to get the notebook before he found it.
    He followed me to the porch, and I expected him to stay there, but then he followed me down the steps. “I’ll walk you home.”
    “It’s okay,” I said, turning and walking backward. “It’s not far.”
    He looked up at the sky. “There’s not much of a moon. What if you get lost in the dark?”
    I stopped and heaved an internal sigh. “I’m actually not going home right away.”
    “No?” He took a step toward me. “Where are you going?”
    “To the tree house,” I admitted. “I left something there.”
    “Are you sure? I didn’t see anything there when I was setting up the telescope.”
    “Yes—it’s in one of the cabinets.”
    He considered this a moment, then held up a finger. “Wait here.” He ducked inside and came out a few minutes later with a lit lantern. “Come on.” He tipped his head toward the tree house. “I’ll go with you.”
    “You don’t need to.”
    “I want to.” He smiled and started toward the tree house, and I followed him through the cavern of trees surrounding his house. The night was warm, filled with the sound of leaves rustling in the breeze and crickets chirping in the long grass.
    “I have something to confess,” I said as I caught up to him.
    “Another confession?” He glanced at me and lifted an eyebrow.
    “I didn’t make the pie.”
    He grinned. “I know.”
    “You do? How?”
    “From the bewildered look on your face when Vivian said you made it.”
    “Oh.” I shook my head and laughed lightly, then recounted how I’d ended up on his doorstep with the pie in my hands.
    “I’m glad you came,” he said. “It was nice to