Thin Space Read Online Free

sprinting up the back steps into my house before it hits me that once again I was so close to that front room, and once again I’ve blown my shot. And then I remember what the realtor said about the new family moving in. My stomach seizes and I have to clutch at it to keep from hurling all over my kitchen.
    How am I going to break in now? How am I going to get into the thin space and fix this mess?



3
Stranger at the Bus Stop
    M onday morning it’s weird to see lights on in Mrs. Hansel’s house. But I have to remind myself it’s not her house anymore.
    Yesterday I itched to go outside, stride right by Mrs. Golden and her crew of cronies who milled around at the curb and chatted it up with the moving men. What stopped me from doing it? Why would I care what those busybodies thought? The front door was propped open, for God’s sake!
    Because you’re a coward, says a voice that sounds suspiciously like my brother’s. I laugh into my hands, but it’s like I’m choking. I realize I’m standing in front of Mrs. Hansel’s house, rocking back and forth on cold feet, staring at the place like some kind of stalker.
    I get a flash of Mrs. Hansel one of those Saturday mornings, waving a list: Clean out the closets. Box up oldclothes . . . Her kids were going to come, she said, to get the stuff they wanted. She went on about it while my brother and I worked. About her kids. Her dead husband. About growing up in that house and Andover over the years. Blah blah blah.
    I can’t remember exactly when she started telling us about thin spaces.
    I trudge down the sidewalk. Someone’s at the corner waiting. I don’t think it’s Lindsay or Heather. As I get closer, the first thing I can pick out in the murky light is a ponytail. The girl’s back is to me. I don’t want to scare her, so I clear my throat.
    She turns and her breath eddies in front of her face. She’s very pink cheeked. I do a quick scan. Note the blond hair pulled back, a jacket clearly not warm enough for Andover, jeans—those flashy designer ones—and boots. Same plush boots that Kate and Logan wear. It figures.
    She’s scanning me too. I see her eyes widen when she takes in my bare feet, then they readjust and her mouth curves into a shaky smile.
    I clear my throat again. “Your family moved into that gray house?”
    She nods.
    But Lindsay and Heather are suddenly upon us. “Marsh,” they say. I notice them checking out the new girl. They don’t bother hiding their appraisal. Lindsay even moves her head up and down like she’s making some kind of mental checklist. New Girl will probably pass their inspection. She’s wearing the approved Andover female attire. She’s got the ponytail. She’s cute enough, if I cared to think about it.
    If she does meet their criteria, though, Lindsay and Heather don’t clue her in on it. Instead, they blow her off, jumping into one of their inane conversations.
    “Then I was like get out of my face.”
    “You did NOT say that.”
    “Uh, yeah I did.”
    New Girl shoots a look in my direction. Her cheeks are really pink. She’s got to be freezing. Her jacket is worthless. But maybe she doesn’t care. I’ll be the first person to admit that I don’t understand girls.
    The bus squeaks up, and Lindsay and Heather march between New Girl and me like we aren’t even there. New Girl doesn’t budge. She’s got a funny expression on her face when she looks past where I’m standing to Mrs. Hansel’s house— her house now. She takes a step in that direction, and I bet I know what she’s thinking. She wants to run back home, forget the damn bus and the new school she’s got to go to, forget the idiotic girls and the crazy barefoot guy, and just get the hell out of here.
    So we’ve got that in common. One side of my mouth twitches up. I hold my arm out, think the words after you , and New Girl sighs out a swirl of mist and climbs onto the bus.
    I don’t run into her again until lunch.
    I’m sitting in the corner