The Theory of Everything by Kari Luna Read Free Book Online

here anytime,” she said. “I can’t cook, but I make a mean frozen pizza.”
    â€œBasil,” I said, dragging Finny away from the door. “She adds fresh basil. Bye, Mom!”
    â€œAu revoir,” she yelled, waving. “Come back soon!”
    â€œYour mom is cool,” Finny said.
    â€œThat’s because she’s not
your
mom,” I said, kicking leaves as I walked, leaving a trail of red and gold in my wake.
    We munched on Pop-Tarts (brown sugar: me, strawberry with sprinkles: him) and talked about the White Stripes’ best album (
Elephant
: me,
Icky Thump
: him). When I mentioned Balzac, my talking cat, Finny choked, spraying sprinkles everywhere.
    â€œIt’s not like he speaks English,” I said. “He just meows on cue.”
    â€œAdorable,” Finny said, wiping his mouth. “Kind of like your skirt.”
    â€œI sewed the pocket on myself,” I said, twirling.
    â€œNo way,” he said. “Who taught you to do that?”
    Kim Gordon from Sonic Youth helped me sew a button once, but it wasn’t like I could tell him that.
    â€œMy upstairs neighbor in New York,” I said, which was partially true. Martha gave me sewing lessons, occupying the endless, lonely hours after school or when my parents fought. But within a few months, I found a ten-dollar Singer at the flea market and began modifying my clothes myself, headphones on. I started with extra fabric and buttons and eventually moved on to pockets.
    â€œThat’s cool,” he said. “But I think this might be even cooler.”
    Finny opened the door and ushered me into Café Haven like we were attending a ball. He wanted to go last week, but it had been closed for renovations, which were totally worth it. A bright red counter stretched across the front, barstools gleaming underneath; ceilings reached for the sky, spotted with twinkling lights and chandeliers; blue vinyl booths lined the middle, filled with people; and there, in the back, was a sitting room, elegant Victorian stuffed couches and curvy-legged coffee tables between them. I wasn’t sure which part was considered the haven—or if one room was a haven from the other—but I loved how it went from diner to coffee shop and back again.
    â€œIt’s amazing,” I said, looking up at the lights. And then, as I brought my eyes down, they got stuck on a cute guy in a sparkly blue booth. He held a mug of coffee in one hand,
On the Road
by Jack Kerouac in the other and was dressed like he’d just stepped out of the book: white T-shirt, skinny leg jeans and ankle boots.
    Finny nudged my arm.
    â€œLooks like coffee isn’t all you want this morning.”
    â€œVery funny,” I said, grabbing my vanilla latte off the bar. “I was just checking the place out.”
    â€œThe place or the patron?” Finny might be a scientist-in-training, but he was also romantic—just not toward me or anyone else of my gender, I suspected. And I was more than fine with that.
    â€œI’ll be outside,” I said, “warming up with Love and Rockets.”
    I put my earbuds in and stood by the door, bopping my head to “All in My Mind” while I waited. I looked inside, hoping to see Finny, but I saw Literary Loner instead. And before I had a chance to look away, he saw me. And smiled.
    â€œOoooh!” Finny joined me on the sidewalk. “He loves you.”
    â€œMore like he busted me,” I said, but I smiled back.
    And then I hurried off, Finny in tow, racing away from one embarrassing situation and—if my history was any indication—probably into another one.
    |||||||||||
    Since I’d met Finny, I’d discovered having a best friend was like having a boyfriend without all the drama. It was great until I realized it wasn’t entirely true. Finny had plenty of drama, it just wasn’t about people. It was about physics.
    â€œIsn’t it amazing that my view