CHAPTER 9
Matthew Watkins “Sometimes it is useful to know how large your zero is.”—Author Unknown.
Finn Is God In order for this status update to make any sense, I need you to assume I’m covered in some sort of spray-based cheese product.
Julie Seagle thinks that Twitter is like Facebook’s slutty cousin. It does everything dumb and whore-ish you’re too responsible to do.
“What’s in this one?” Celeste asked.
“I have no idea. Open it up.” Julie handed Celeste the scissors and let her cut the tape off the cardboard box. Her room had quickly turned into a disaster area now that the rest of her things had arrived. She had her puffy comforter on the bed and one box of clothes put away.
Celeste opened the box flaps and peered in. “It appears that a beauty parlor has exploded in this box.”
“Ooooh, nice!” Julie clapped her hands and turned up the music. “Now, if we can just find the box with the shirt I want to wear tonight, I’ll be set.”
Dana had texted her earlier and demanded that Julie meet her at a dorm party that night. Jamie had promised he would come too, and Dana was evidently unable to pick out an appropriate outfit without Julie’s divine fashion sense.
“Celeste, will you pull out the black bag in there for me? Pick out a nail polish color.” Julie walked across the bed and hopped to the floor, narrowly missing crashing into Flat Finn, and grabbed more hangers from the closet.
“You have too many colors in here to choose from,” Celeste said as she pulled out nail polish bottles and set them in a row on the rug.
Julie held up a pale-blue silky top. “I’m wearing this tonight, so pick something that will look nice with it.” She wondered briefly if it would be rude not to invite Matt to come with her, but the thought of showing up at her first—or any—Whitney party with him was not at the top of her list.
Celeste stared at the row of little bottles. “I’m not equipped to make this decision, Julie. I don’t want to choose the wrong one. Let me ask Flat Finn.”
“No, I want you to pick it out. There is no wrong one, silly.” Julie took the deep purple and the bright red and held them up. “Seductive, vampire bad girl versus traditional, hot, all-around sexy gal. There are no losers in this color game. Unless you just buy some stupid color like metallic green. Never do that. So let the nail polish speak to you. You try one.”
Celeste nodded seriously and then examined a light-pink bottle. “Whimsical, gentle, and tasteful. A classic?”
“Brilliant! Now give me your toes.” Julie sat down in front of Celeste and began applying the polish.
Celeste sat quietly, occasionally peeking at Flat Finn, who stood monitoring the pedicure. “It was her idea, not mine!” she quipped. “He is a bit unsettled by this. I’ve never had my nails painted.”
Julie turned around and glared at Flat Finn. “Every girl has a right to painted nails, so you better get settled quick, Flatty.”
Celeste giggled. “Oh, he didn’t like that name one bit.”
“Tough. OK, give me your fingers now. Different color or the same?”
“I have no idea.”
“Here, this one will be nice for you. It looks sort of orange in the bottle, but it’s a nice muted red when it’s on.”
Celeste gave Julie her hand. “I trust you. Although Flat Finn has his doubts because he thinks the color resembles tangerines.”
Julie grabbed a shirt from the nearest box and flung it at the figure, landing the shirt perfectly on the cardboard head. “There. Now grumpy boy doesn’t have to watch. This is girl stuff anyway.” Julie opened the bottle and started on Celeste’s fingers before she could protest. “So, it’s Saturday night. What are you doing?”
“Flat Finn and I are going to read All Creatures Great and Small.”
“Sounds like an outrageous evening. Hey, whose piano is that off the front hall? I haven’t heard anyone playing.” Julie looked at Celeste. “I mean, besides Flat Finn.”
“Oh. The piano. I used to play. Not anymore.”
“Got bored?”
“Not bored so much as disenchanted. What is your party going to be like?”
Julie shrugged. “Drunk boys, crying girls, loud music.” She smiled. “But it’ll be fun anyway.”
Celeste’s eyes widened. “What are your plans for the drunk boys?”
“I’m going to sit them down and give them a long lecture on the unappealing nature of overindulging in beer and Jell-O shots. Then I’ll ground them and send them to bed. Alone.”
“That is not what I meant. How will you protect yourself?”
“I don’t need a plan. They’ll be harmless and mildly cute in a pathetically boozy way.”
“What if one of them wants to be your boyfriend? What will you do then?”
“I wouldn’t worry about it. I’m not looking for a boyfriend anyway.” Julie blew across Celeste’s nails. “Don’t touch anything for at least fifteen minutes.”
“Why don’t you want a boyfriend?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I do. I’d just have to meet the right guy. Someone who isn’t ordinary. Someone who gets me. Someone I fit perfectly with. I want heat, chemistry, an undeniable connection. You know what I mean? I want it all. I’m done with ordinary and mediocre.”
“You believe in true love,” Celeste stated.
“Maybe. I don’t know yet.”
“So you think that you’re going to find true love at this party tonight?”
“Doubtful.”
“Why are you going then?”
“For fun. To meet people and make friends. To be eighteen and silly. To escape the existential dreariness of the real world,” Julie added dramatically. She set her makeup in front of the floor-length mirror, knotted her hair on top of her head, and started putting on mascara. “Mostly to go flirt. I have to keep my skills honed because I might need them one day.”
“I bet it’s easy for you,” Celeste said as she examined her fingers and toes.
“What? Flirting?”
“Yes.”
“Depends. There’s flirting,” Julie said, jokingly pushing her chest out, “and then there’s flirting.” She tapped the side of her temple. “It’s the second one that’s hard because you’re putting more of yourself out there.”
Celeste moved to stand next to Julie and looked at herself in the mirror. She turned sideways and then forward again, holding her fingers splayed in front of her so she wouldn’t smudge her polish.
“Here. Try this on.” Julie handed her a sheer lip gloss.
Celeste took the gloss and examined it as if it were a specimen from the moon. “I really do not think that this is necessary. I do not think that Flat Finn will view this positively.”
“It’s not necessary. But it’s what thirteen-year-old girls do. You’ve never worn makeup?”
Celeste shook her head emphatically. “I cannot begin to imagine what Finn would think.”
By the time Julie had turned thirteen, she’d already experimented with numerous disastrous shades of shadow, framed her eyes with crooked streaks of black liner, and infuriated her mother with her embarrassingly large collection of lipstick.
“Here, I’ll do it for you.” Julie got up and put one hand under Celeste’s chin, steadying her face as she dabbed some sheen onto her lips. “A little lip gloss on you won’t kill Finn. He’ll deal with it.”
Celeste’s already pale skin became nearly translucent, and her eyes glistened. Julie pulled back. “What’s wrong? What did I do?” Great. First Erin and now Celeste. Either this family was insane, or Julie was causing some sort of panic reaction in everyone she came in contact with.
Celeste clamped her hand onto Julie’s arm and looked at her. She turned to face the mirror and rubbed her lips together. A single tear rolled down her cheek as she continued to clutch Julie’s arm.
Julie, with the lip-gloss wand still held in front of her, felt her hand tremble slightly. Something was happening to Celeste, something she didn’t understand. Julie closed her eyes for a moment. “See what Flat Finn thinks.” She pulled off the shirt that she’d tossed at him. “Does he approve?”
Celeste cautiously moved to stand by Flat Finn. She held very still and stared directly into the photographed eyes. The color returned to her cheeks. “Yes. He likes it. He likes it very much.” She inhaled and exhaled deeply, and slowly a cautious smile emerged. “Can I watch you put on the rest of your makeup?”
Julie drove home from the campus party, parked in the driveway, and did her best to shut the car door quietly. She was home later than she’d expected, and although Erin had been quite clear about giving Julie the freedom to come and go as she pleased, it was still hard not to feel some obligation to come home before dawn. She started fiddling with the tricky old lock on the front door, but in the dark, it was tough. The party had been fun, just not fun enough to be worth spending the night on the Watkinses’ front porch.
She’d met at least thirty other Whitney students. Although she’d been a bit hesitant about walking into a party alone, it had been a good crowd, and she’d had fun. Even with the beer flowing freely, there was a different feel from high school parties. Yes, there’d been the drunk boys and crying girls she’d predicted, and surprisingly more than enough sober(ish), non-hysterical people. She’d even been hit on a few times, which, while amusing and a little flattering, hadn’t led to anything more than the mention of meeting up for coffee between classes. But she was tired and so had ducked out around twelve thirty after Jamie and Dana’s public groping session had taken a breather and she’d been able to say good-bye to them.
Julie shut her eyes and focused on the key in the lock, listening for sounds that she was doing something right. After figuring out a combination of rotating the handle just a smidge while wriggling the key as it turned, she made it inside. The house was dark, and Julie tiptoed up the stairs to the second floor. In the quiet, she noticed that the fifth step from the bottom creaked loudly, the sound echoing up the stairwell. She’d have to remember that.
Matthew’s door was ajar and his light on. Julie tapped lightly on the door, causing it to swing open. “Matt?”
“Hey, Julie.” Matt was crouched over his computer, obviously wide awake.
She walked in and sat down on the bed. “What are you doing?”
“Working myself into a frenzy over an online debate about people who go around breaking into computer systems and claim their only reason for doing so is to expose security weaknesses.”
“Oh. You didn’t go out tonight?”
“Nope.” He was still looking at the screen. “My father had a work party, so my parents were out until about an hour ago. Someone had to stay with Celeste.”
Most thirteen-year-olds would have pitched a fit at having their brother stay home with them. For reasons Julie didn’t understand yet, Celeste needed someone around all the time.
Julie leaned back on her hands and crossed her legs, bouncing one leg up and down. “Flat Finn couldn’t do it?”
“His general incompetence reaches monumental and dangerous proportions,” he said absently. “Totally untrustworthy.”
“I feel bad that I had the car. Your mom didn’t mention they were going out when she said I should take it tonight.”
“They prefer to walk.”
Julie looked around. His bedroom looked more like an office than a college student’s room. The only thing on the wall was a poster with a freaky glowing nebula thing and an incomprehensible equation. “What is that?” she asked.
“The poster? It’s the dynamics of electromagnetic radiation shown through Maxwell equations.”
“It’s extremely decorative. Gives the room a warm touch.”
Matt tapped the keyboard.
“I went to a party at school tonight. It was all right. Nothing thrilling.”
She wondered again if she’d had some social obligation to invite him. They were living in the same house after all. She could have just introduced him as the son of the family she was staying with so that she wouldn’t have scared off any potential dates. But maybe she wasn’t that good a person. Plus, there was something about his tone tonight that was rather pissy and cold. He looked sort of pathetic here, slumped in his swivel chair, his evening’s social activities confined to communicating with other loner boys. Not most people’s idea of a raging Saturday night.
Matt was frowning at one of the forum messages. “Idiots. How anyone can justify hacking into the Chicago transit system? Yeah, sure we all think that guy was trying to prevent someone else from using access for malicious intent!” He turned back to Julie. “Sorry. What?”
“I said that the party was all right. I’m glad I went.”
“Good.”
“Listen, Matt,” she started. Great. He was already back on his stupid forum. Maybe he didn’t feel like talking, but something was bothering her. Especially with the way he could barely look at her. “Matt? Can I ask you something?”
“Yeah?”
“I didn’t mean to, but I kind of heard you and your mom the other day. It sounded like a bit of an argument. I can’t help wondering if it was about my staying here.” Julie fidgeted with her watch strap. “Are you not OK with it? I mean, I would understand. Really. This strange girl moves into your house with no notice, takes over your brother’s room, makes you eat metaphoric manicotti. I get it. Probably not what every boy dreams about.”
Matt smirked as he typed. “I never said you were strange.”
“That was an expression.” Julie waited for him to say something else, but he didn’t. She stood up and walked to the door. “Well, I’m sorry.”
“Wait, what?” Matt looked up. “No, Julie. It’s fine.”
She stopped just outside the hall. “You don’t mind that I’m here?”
“No. It makes sense. We’ve got an extra room.”
Gee, thanks for the enthusiasm. “At least you won’t have to come home to be with Celeste in the afternoons, since I’ll be doing that. You’ll get more work done, right?”
“That’s true,” he agreed. “I will. Just don’t bother Celeste about Flat Finn, and everything will be fine.”
“OK. Good. Well, good night.”
“Good night, Julie.”
She went to her room and shut the door. If Matt was cranky, it didn’t seem to have anything to do with her. But there was still something bothering her. She yawned and opened her laptop. Maybe Finn could help.
Finn–
Hey. Are you online? I need that advice sooner than I expected. Wondering if you can help me with Celeste. I think I did something wrong and upset her. We had a little girl time today, which was great, and then…I don’t know. I must have done something wrong, I can’t think what. For a minute there, I thought she was going to cry. I feel terrible, and I’m worried she’s mad at me. I hope she is all right with my being here because your brother seems less than thrilled. I know there is something going on with Celeste, and Matt won’t talk about it. I’d like to help her out, but I’m at a loss.
Oh, and you could have told me about the tricky front lock and the creaky step! I’m lucky I didn’t wake your parents up at this hour!
–Julie
Julie got into her pajamas and then took her laptop into bed. Two minutes ago, Finn had commented under Matt’s post: Mom used to make us take baths together. Believe me, your “zero” is nothing to brag about. Julie laughed.
Yup, Finn was online. Her e-mail dinged.
Julie–
Celeste? Yeah. She’s complicated. I’m sure you didn’t do anything wrong. I can tell that you already care about her, and I’m glad. My parents consulted some highly respected shrink who thinks that Flat Finn is a creative response to nerves about starting a new school, missing me. Stuff like that. They were advised to just wait it out and support her. She freaks out if anyone hints Flat Finn might not be the most appropriate companion.
My parents went through a ton of babysitters who were less tolerant of Flat Finn than you are, so you’re obviously doing something right. She wants you there. In fact, I got an e-mail from her tonight saying how great you were, that you did her hair up the other day, that you cooked dinner together, etc. She sounded really happy, so that makes me happy. (Oh, did she tell you that I sent her a few pictures?) Don’t worry. It sounds like you’re doing great. The best advice I can give you is to just let Celeste do her thing. Ignore Matt. He’ll get over whatever problem he has.
Fifth step from the bottom? Sorry. I should have warned you. Slipped my mind. And the lock? You got the knob turn/key jiggle maneuver down already? Impressive. That one took me years to perfect. What were you doing out so late? Were you sneaking home late from a hot date already? In Boston only a few days, and you’ve already snagged a man. Celeste said you’re a romantic. Hope he took you to dinner and the opera before returning you home so late.
–Finn
Finn–
Yes, incredibly hot date tonight. I’ve only been in town a few days, and I’ve already snagged a native Bostonian, whom I plan on totally corrupting with my college girl wiles. I refused both the four-star restaurant and the boring opera tickets, and just dragged him to a cheap motel. I came home with smeared lipstick, my hair a mess, and my shirt inside out. How’s that for romance, baby!
Or, I just went to a party on campus, chatted for a few hours, and came home alone. You decide.
OK, I’ll try not to screw things up with Celeste. But Flat Finn can’t just be about missing you. It’s not just the flat you that’s…well, different about her. I’m really confused. I’m missing an enormous puzzle piece here. How long have you been gone? Can you call home so Celeste could at least talk to you? And when are you coming back, BTW? Now that I’ve taken over your room, you might have to fight me for it.
I want to see pictures too! My travel experience is limited to a selection of boring cities in Ohio, one excruciating weekend in Jacksonville to visit some senile fourth cousin of my mother’s, and a trip to Yosemite one summer where I stepped on a wasp’s nest and was stung seven times.
–Julie
Julie–
Not sure when I’ll be home. I’m really entrenched in all of this traveling business and have committed to volunteering for a number of different places. I’m going on a two-week scuba diving trip not far from here (just for fun), and then I’m off to coach kids’ football in Ghana. I lost my phone in Palau and trying to replace it when moving around so much is a nightmare. I hop on computers at volunteer headquarters, etc. when I can, but phone service is usually sketchy where I am.
Here are the pics I sent Celeste. (I do have one picture of a senile Ohio wasp, but I don’t want to make you feel nostalgic.)
I choose boring campus party.
–Finn
Julie checked out the three pictures he’d attached to his message. Any non-brain-dead girl would be impressed. The two photos of him standing next to an elephant were great, but the best one was a shot of Finn sitting on a boulder looking out at a sunset. Fine, it was a little corny. She didn’t care. Even though his face was shadowed, she could still see how handsome he was. The way his cheekbones caught the light, the hint of a smile on his face, his arm muscles peeking through his shirt.
Then she did what any girl would do: she Googled him. Eight minutes of scrolling through search results and clicking on links got her nowhere, although she did learn that there was a Finn Watkins who played drums for a rather successful college band called Eggs Benedict and that a Finneas Watkins from New Jersey had won a 2006 award for his classical ballet performance. None of the results produced any information about her Finn. Well, not her Finn, but…whatever. This was annoying. Not that Googling herself yielded any information either, but it would have been nice to find something.
She looked at the pictures again. Yes, indeed. Finn was cute. Super cute. And funny, smart, and charming. And he adored his sister. And did amazing volunteer work in between adventurous travels. And…
Julie stopped herself. This was silly. She couldn’t possibly have a crush on someone she’d only exchanged a few messages with, right? Because that would be abnormal. Insane. Completely not based in reality. She was not that desperate. Besides, Boston was likely teeming with smart, adorable boys. Not that having a boyfriend was really a priority, but it wouldn’t be awful.
And while the pictures were attractive and distracting, she hadn’t failed to notice that Finn had not answered her questions about Celeste.