This Sky by Autumn Doughton Read Free Book Online

and yellow wallpaper. Directly in front of me is an oblong living area. The focal point is a sun-faded red couch covered in lumpy mismatched throw pillows. A wooden piano, an old armchair and Ikea shelves packed with books and funky knickknacks eat up the remainder of the room. There is a single metal-framed window—the kind that you have to wind to open—centered on the far wall.
         “You’re welcome to anything you want from the kitchen,” Julie says, pulling open a cabinet door. “Like I said, I got ice cream because I figured it was a breakup necessity. But there are also chips and lots of…” She peers into what must be a pantry and laughs. “Chocolate.”
         I look to see what she’s talking about. There are enough bags of candy bars and indi vidually wrapped chocolate pieces on the shelf to satisfy a class full of sugar-crazed kindergarteners for a decade.
         “The after-Halloween sale,” she explains with a sheepish smile.
         I snicker. “I can see that.”
        “So, you’re going to be in the nook.” she points to a tiny recess separated from the rest of the apartment by a floral-patterned curtain. It’s crowded with a sagging brown futon and a low-slung table so scratched up that I wonder if it was a dog chew to y in another life. “I know the apartment isn’t much, but it’s comfortable and the location is great since we’re so close to the beach,” she goes on, pushing the curtain all the way to one side and parking my rolling suitcase next to the futon. Then she steps back, rests her hands on her hips and releases a long breath.
        “ And I know that the circumstances are hella horrible, but we’ll make this fun, okay?”
        Fun?
        I’m exhausted and disjointed from rearrang ing the pieces of my life. I’m depressed. I’m humiliated. I’m defeated and broke. 
        Fun is not happening.
        Fun was strapped to a rocket launcher and fired through a hole in the ozone.
        Fun is orbiting a solar system in another galaxy right now.
        What I really want to do is get back into a pair of pajamas, curl myself roly-poly style into a tight ball, close my eyes tight and fall asleep on that futon for the next decade. Give or take a few months.
          But Julie’s acting like everything is decided. Like she’s been tasked as navigator and hand ed a compass and the map that leads the way out of my breakup hell.
        “Definitely fun,” I lie. “It’ll be just like drama camp.”
         She smiles, clearly relieved. “Are you hungry? We can get some food or I can help you put away your clothes if that’s better? I already cleaned out the hall closet for you and set aside some space in the bathroom for your things.”
         I lift Weebit’s carrier up to eye level. “I think I better get this guy’s cage from my car and work on setting that up first.”
         An unfamiliar hand lands on my shoulder and a deep, melodious voice speaks into my ear. “I can help with that if you’d like.”
        “Agh!” I release a bleat of surprise and dodge away from the hand.
        “You almost gave her a heart attack!” Julie’s tone is chiding but a smile is creasing the skin around her eyes.
        Clutching Weebit’s carrier to my chest, I spin and come face-to-face with a stranger.
        “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, sticking his arms up over his head like I’ve just placed him under arrest. He’s tall with a mane of thick black hair that he’s pulled away from his face and secured in a low ponytail. 
        Julie nods to him. “This is Smith.”
        “Marcus Smith,” he says. “But most people just stick with Smith.”
        “Right. The Smith of pesto hummus fa me,” I reply with a smile.
        He laughs. “That’s right. And you’re Gemma?”
        “Of sex tape fame?” A girl appears in the doorway.
        Julie winces as she grabs the newcomer’s