So Much Closer by Susane Colasanti Read Free Book Online

say when the silence gets too loud.
    The phone rings. Dad gets up to answer it. I assume he’ll tell whoever it is that we’re having dinner and hang up. But he doesn’t do that. Instead, he takes the phone into the living room, gets on his laptop, and stays there. I can’t really hear what he’s saying. Just some angry tapping of keys and tense tones. It’s obvious that he’s not coming back anytime soon.
    I watch his food get cold.

Eight
    A small piece of pink paper lands on my desk right before calc starts. It’s folded once, with a smiley face in glittery purple ink.
    I’m not surprised that it came from the direction of Sadie.
    “What’s this?” I ask her. Something tells me it’s not just a regular note.
    “Open it and see,” Sadie says, all excited.
    So I do. In loopy, round writing, is this:
    Brooke —
    We need your big brain! Please reconsider. xo—Sadie
    “It’s a warm fuzzy,” Sadie informs me.
    “A what?”
    “You’ve never heard of warm fuzzies?”
    “No, but I’m sure you’ll enlighten me.”
    “The purpose of a warm fuzzy is to spread the love. If someone needs cheering up or you just want to wish them a happy day, a warm fuzzy is perfect. And there are rules. Like how they have to be cute. They can’t be written with a boring pen on some standard piece of paper.”
    Warm fuzzies sound sort of pretentious, with their rules and aspirations.
    “And they count as random acts of kindness,” she continues.
    “Random acts of kindness?”
    “Yeah. You know, doing things for other people for the purpose of helping them? Because you want to make their lives better?”
    That sounds highly suspect to me. I don’t believe that people do anything for purely selfless reasons. People’s actions are motivated by their own desires. Every person who’s disappointed me has been further proof that no one can be trusted.
    I refold the warm fuzzy.
    “Will you at least think about tutoring?” Sadie pleads.
    Then the bell rings and, with her usual militant punctuality, Ms. Jacobs starts class.

    When Scott gets to the Box, he says hi. He even smiles at me. I could not be more relieved that the weirdness between us is over. Maybe he’s one of those people who’s automatically excited because it’s Friday. I definitely like Fridays as much as the next person who doesn’t want to be here, I just don’t get whipped up in a frenzy about it.
    Scott sits down next to me and pulls out a notebook. It’s not his usual notebook for the Box, which is what everyone’s calling this class. He’s been using this ratty spiral with like ten pages left in it. This is a brand-new notebook. It has a black cover that says DUNDER MIFFLIN, INC.
    “ Office fan?” I ask. I know it’s somehow related to the show because I just saw an ad for The Office on the side of a bus. The characters were standing under a big Dunder Mifflin sign.
    Scott’s like, “What?”
    I point to his notebook.
    “Oh, yeah. You?”
    “Totally.” Why am I being such a liar? I’ve only seen two episodes of The Office . And not even two whole episodes. Only a few random parts.
    His face lights up. “That’s so cool. I don’t know anyone else who’s into it.”
    It’s amazing how quickly a day can improve. Even our classwork is fun. We’re doing logic problems that feel more like a break than work that will actually be graded.
    Someone calls out, “Can I get a drink?”
    “The water fountain’s broken,” Mr. Peterson says.
    “Can I use the other one?”
    “That would take too long. We have fifteen minutes left and I need you here for all of them.”
    Thirsty Boy glances at the sink in the corner, left over from when this room used to be the nurse’s office. Apparently, he’s not thirsty enough to bend down under the faucet.
    “I can make you a cup,” I say. I take a piece of paper out of my notebook and fold it into an origami cup. “Here.” I hold it out to Thirsty Boy.
    “It works?”
    “Yeah. Just don’t take too