CHAPTER 4
Julie studied Celeste’s face, watching her peruse the Whitney course catalog. They’d been on the couch together for the past half hour, weighing the pros and cons of the classes that Julie had to choose from. It was odd the way this thirteen-year-old was glued to the course listings. But the truth was that she’d been surprisingly helpful in figuring out a schedule. Julie was even starting to get used to her rather formal style of speech.
The house was chilly now, with the central air on full blast, and Celeste pulled a light blanket over her lap. Julie adjusted her computer, which sat on her lap, and rested her fingers on the keys. She peered at Celeste’s scrawling in the book. “So which English class am I taking? The eight thirty one?”
“No. English is at ten on Tuesday and Thursday, and Introduction to Psychology is at noon Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Write down these course numbers.” Celeste pointed to the page and waited as Julie typed. “See, you have to be totally prepared on Friday morning, or you will not get the schedule you want. At least you get to register online and avoid waiting in a line with lots of annoying people.”
“So you think all my fellow students will be annoying? I was hoping to make friends, but now I don’t know…”
Celeste snapped the book shut. “Normal people can become very annoying if put in annoying situations.”
“That’s true. Then you’re right. I’m glad I’m registering from home.”
Celeste leaned her head back against the couch. “Did you have lots of friends at home? What about a boyfriend? I bet you have a boyfriend. Is he very handsome?”
“I still have lots of friends at home. They didn’t evaporate when I left. I just won’t be seeing them as much now that I’m in Boston. I used to have a boyfriend, and yes, he was cute, but he was also a brainless pain in the neck.”
“Do you have pictures of everyone?” Celeste asked.
“Of course.” Julie opened her photo program and scrolled through albums until she found a set of pictures from August. “These are from my going-away party. My mom threw a barbecue in our backyard.”
“You had a big party? It looks wonderful,” Celeste said breathlessly.
“Yeah. Hot dogs, congealed macaroni salad, a cake with my name misspelled, the whole works. OK, there I am with Kristen and Mariam. And here’s one of Amy and my mom.” Julie scrolled through countless pictures while Celeste demanded details on nearly everything.
“Do you have a picture of your father?”
Julie continued pulling up photos. “Nope. He was away on business. But he did send me the most technologically advanced phone there is as a gift. And he called during the party.”
“That was a kind thing for him to do. Sometimes my own father is unable to be present for events, but I do not get a phone call.”
“Oh.”
“One time my father opted to have Matt leave paper dolls under my pillow. Mini Flat Finns. I found that a clever and unusual way to express that he missed me.”
“That is a very cool idea. I like it.”
“He does not do that very often, though. I wish he would.”
This is something that Julie understood. It was hard to have an absent parent, even when that parent adored you.
Celeste pointed to the screen. “Is that your cake?”
“Cute, huh?”
“Who’s that? You had a band playing? Is that your boyfriend? Your dress is very pretty.” Celeste wanted every detail. “Where did you buy that? How did you get in and out of it? Your boobs look huge! No wonder you had a boyfriend!”
“First of all, the dress is not that tight. It’s fitted. And my boobs look regular sized. And we’re not talking about my boobs. But, yes, the party was really fun. I didn’t want anything too fancy, so it was perfect. So what kind of birthday parties do you have?” Julie asked.
Celeste looked straight ahead, seemingly transfixed by something on a shelf. “I do not really do parties anymore. They never work out terribly well for me,” she said simply. “We have to show Flat Finn that red dress. He is going to love it! And the one of you at graduation. You look so happy getting your diploma.”
Celeste pushed the blanket aside and retrieved the cardboard cutout of her brother, which she’d left by the piano in the small room off of the main hall. According to Celeste, Flat Finn loathed practicing scales, but he knew that Erin would never forgive him if he slacked off. Even cardboard brothers felt obligated to please their parents. Celeste entered the room carrying the cutout in front of her, eerily giving the impression that Flat Finn was able to glide around by himself. She stood him next to the coffee table near Julie and adjusted the panels by his feet that kept him standing, struggling to make him balance on the thick rug.
“Come on, Flat Finn!” she muttered, the wavering figure looming over her. She looked up to his head, her blond curls falling off her face and revealing the determination in her eyes. “Please!” she said with agitation. “You have to help out.”
She reached a hand up to his midsection, trying desperately to keep him vertical, but each time she seemed to find the perfect spot for the base flap, Flat Finn would lean precariously forward or backward, causing Celeste to tighten her free hand. Julie could see that the carpeting was not going to allow a successful outcome, and Celeste’s cheeks flushed as she became increasingly frustrated. Panicked, even.
“You have done this before, Flat Finn! You can do this!” she pleaded.
Julie watched the scene before her and wondered what the hell she’d gotten herself into by setting foot in this house. Celeste was looking rather frazzled, and it was hard to watch this kid in such a state, so Julie stood up and took Flat Finn by the shoulders. If everyone else was going to normalize this, she might as well hop on the bandwagon.
“You know what? Guys always like to lie down and just sprawl out. They’re lazy like that. I wonder if that’s what he wants.” Julie noticed Matt poised nervously at the far side of the room, clearly considering whether or not to intervene. He took a step forward. Julie shot him a look and he stepped back. “Besides,” she continued to Celeste, “Flat Finn can’t see the computer from up there. He should be on the couch with us.”
Celeste looked at Julie for a moment, and then her face brightened. “I think he would like that very much.”
Julie lifted Flat Finn from the nubby, unsuitable carpeting, swung him sideways into the air, and laid him on his side on the couch.
“Be careful,” Celeste urged from her crouched position on the rug.
“He’s fine. And there’s still room for us.” Julie took her seat again, leaving enough room behind her so that Flat Finn did not risk getting any flatter. “Just don’t lean back, or we’ll be in trouble. Come sit down and tell me which pictures he wants to see.”
Celeste rounded the table and sat down gingerly. She leaned her head over Julie’s lap, peeking at Flat Finn’s face jutting out from behind Julie’s back. “He definitely wants to see the red dress ones first. He could hear me talking about them and suspects that you look hot and sultry. Again, his words, not mine.”
Julie laughed. “Well, I suspect Flat Finn is a pervert, and he’s going to be disappointed, but he can see the pictures anyway.” Julie opened the photo and waited for an assessment. She did look cute that day, she had to admit. While the dress was a little low-cut and fell a few inches above the knee, it was also soft and flowing. She liked how the straps crisscrossed over her back and tied in a bow.
Celeste paused for a moment. “He is not disappointed. He thinks that you are beautiful and that you should Facebook Finn.” She paused again. “He doesn’t mean that to sound as dirty as it does.”
Julie swallowed. “Flat Finn is on Facebook?” She’d love to see those status updates. Got strapped to the roof of the car today for a trip to Starbucks. Would have loved to taste caramel mocha, but can’t move arms and so was forced to stare longingly at delicious, hot beverage. Will the taunting never end?
Celeste sighed, clearly exasperated at Julie’s stupidity. “Not Flat Finn. Finn. Go find him on Facebook. You are on Facebook, aren’t you? Matty and Finn are, and Matty lets me sneak on with him so I can see Finn’s page. Shhhh,” she said, holding a finger to her lips. “Mom and Dad would not approve whatsoever. They hate any sort of social networking site and consider it indicative of lower intelligence.”
“I suppose he’s on Twitter too?”
“Absolutely not. Are you?”
Julie shook her head. “I have a strong aversion to Twitter, and yet there is a social obligation that forces me to pop in and spy on celebrities now and then. I don’t get Twitter. It’s impossible to follow conversation threads, and it’s too easy to spend hours and hours clicking on random names, and the next thing you know, you’ve become infatuated with Tweet photos from the Kardashians.”
Celeste stared at her. “So are you or are you not on Facebook?”
Man, this kid was a piece of work. “Yup, I am on Facebook. And if you don’t tell your parents that, then I won’t tell them about you and Matthew. And I would be honored to be Finn’s friend.” Julie logged into the site. “Finneas or Finn?” she asked Celeste.
“Always Finn. He hates Finneas. But he made his account under Finn Is God.”
Julie laughed. “Why did he do that?”
“Because he has no interest in having undesirables from high school finding him. He gets to hide out a little more this way. Be selective. That’s important to him. Being selective with your friends.”
Julie tapped the keyboard, found the real Finn, and sent a friend request. With only thirty-two friends compared to Julie’s four hundred-and-something, he was indeed selective. She saw Matthew’s name on Finn’s friend list and added him too. Julie’s philosophy was that you could never have too many friends. Virtual ones, at least. She had a few real ones she could do without.
“Update your status! Update your status!” Celeste demanded. “Something funny.”
Julie thought for a moment. “How’s this?”
Julie Seagle Never moon a werewolf.
Celeste leaned her head against Julie’s shoulder. “I like it. It’s practical and witty. Flat Finn likes it too. Do one for him.”
This was new. Julie had never had to come up with a status update directed to someone’s flat brother.
Julie Seagle is unable to find any financially Finnish finches for Flat Finn, but will finagle finger-painting fingerling finery as a final finale. She finks.
“You have made substantial use of alliteration.” Celeste stared at the computer screen. “Flat Finn is finking about it,” she said, glaring at Julie. “I, however, am not fond of this update.”
Julie typed again.
Julie Seagle You can never be too rich or too Finn.
Celeste patted Julie’s arm. “Better.”
Julie cracked the ice cube tray and dropped a few cubes into her water glass. “You want some?”
Matt nodded. “Thanks.”
“Is Celeste asleep?” Julie took a glass from the cupboard.
“Out cold.”
“Are you actually packing yourself a lunch for tomorrow?” She eyed the selection of healthy items that Matt was putting into a lunch bag: carrot sticks, grapes, whole grain crackers, and a yogurt drink.
“I’m not actually packing myself a lunch for tomorrow. It’s for Celeste. That damn private school she’s at makes the kids take a break and nourish themselves before the teachers continue indoctrinating them with foolish lessons about Predynastic Egypt and curtal sonnets.” Matt picked up a wedge of cheese and began cutting uniform slices.
“What the hell is a curtal sonnet?” Julie lifted herself up so that she was sitting on the counter and stole a piece of cheese. “It makes me think of curds and whey.”
“It was invented by this guy Hopkins, and the curtal sonnet has exactly three-quarters of the structure of a Petrarchan sonnet, shrunk proportionally. Interestingly enough, he has an equation for it, and some argue that a true interest in sonnets stems from their relationship to math. If the Petrarchan sonnet is described as eight plus six equals fourteen, then the curtal sonnet would be twelve over two plus nine over two…” Matt put the knife down. “Julie?”
“Sorry, I think I fell asleep for a minute.” Julie yawned and patted her cheeks. “Kidding! I’m kidding! The unification of math and poetry is jaw-droppingly interesting. But you lost me at equation.”
Matt smirked. “Well, it is interesting because lots of poems have mathematical imagery or structure. Concrete triangular poems and syllabic verse, for example. Did you know that we subconsciously track the sound properties in poetry?”
“No, you subconsciously track sound properties and then wreck perfectly nice poetry by breaking it down into mathematical elements. Some of us just enjoy plain old poetry.”
Matt zipped up Celeste’s lunch bag and moved to stand in front of Julie. “I enjoy it too. Just in a different way than you do. I can’t help it. I’m a nerd.”
“So you’ve said.”
“I suspect that on some level, you respond to the mathematical components in writing.”
“And I suspect that you’re wrong.” Julie hopped down from the counter and pointed to the lunch bag. “So will Flat Finn be needing a lunch too?”
“Nope. He has a large breakfast. A stack of pancakes, an egg white omelet with green peppers and Swiss, and a fruit smoothie. That usually tides him over until dinner.”
Julie crossed her arms. “I’m serious. Flat Finn can’t possibly go to school with her, right?”
“He already went to Brandeis so, no, he doesn’t need to repeat seventh grade. Although they did make him take a bunch of tests in order to qualify out. He barely passed the oral exams, though, because the instructors found him ‘withholding and tight-lipped.’ It’s a terribly biased system, but at least he passed and won’t have to suffer through the school’s annual reenactment of the first Thanksgiving. He has a pilgrim phobia.”
“Funny. Really, what’s the deal with Flat Finn?”
“After an unfortunate incident involving Wile E. Coyote and an anvil, Three Dimensional Finn had to change his name.”
Julie laughed. “Matt, come on! I assume this has something to do with her brother being away?”
Matt groaned. “Something like that.” He moved to the fridge, tucked the lunch bag on a shelf, and rearranged the leftover cartons.
“And nobody has suggested that she lose the accessory? I mean, she’s kind of old for this sort of thing, don’t you think? Not that I can think of a good age for it.”
He shrugged. “I don’t really know. I just follow orders and nod and smile.”
“Well, when is the real Finn coming back? That would take care of this, right? Does she take Flat Finn out of the house? What do her friends think when she shows up at soccer practice and asks if Flat Finn can play fullback?”
“No idea when Finn is coming home. He’s off on his adventures, being cool and carefree,” he said brusquely and shut the fridge. “And unless she’s at school, Celeste takes Flat Finn everywhere. But she doesn’t…She doesn’t go out much. Restaurants aren’t really an option, hence the regular takeout. She doesn’t play soccer, and she doesn’t have friends. Anything else, or are you done making fun of her?”
“Hey,” Julie softened her tone. “I am not making fun of her. I like her. Flat Finn too. And did you say hence?”
“Yes, I said hence.” Matt busied himself cleaning off the kitchen counters. “I think it’s making a comeback.”
“But I don’t get why Celeste—”
“Leave it alone,” Matt said sharply. “I’m not saying anything else about it, OK? And please don’t bring this up with my parents.”
Julie froze. “I’m sorry,” she stammered. “It’s none of my business. I shouldn’t pry.”
“No, I’m sorry,” Matt said apologetically. “Forget it. Listen, I have to take Celeste to school tomorrow morning, but after that I could help you find an apartment. I called a friend of mine who knows a realtor that I got in touch with, and he’s got some places for you to see. I assumed you wouldn’t mind a little help.”
“Really? That’s awesome. Thank you so much.” She wasn’t about to refuse any apartment leads. “You’re not busy tomorrow?”
“I’ve got time. This realtor said we could meet him at ten, and we’ll go from there. Sound OK?”
“Very OK.”