"Is Celeste asleep?" Julie took a glass from the cupboard.
"Out cold."
"Are you actually packing yourself a lunch for tomorrow?" She eyed the healthy selection of carrot sticks, grapes, whole grain crackers, and a yogurt drink that Matt was putting into a lunch bag.
"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 wouldnassut 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."
Chapter 5
Julie pursed her lips together. She didn't like this realtor. How could his pants be falling off when he had such a substantial belly willing to hold them up? But the real reason she didn't care for this jerk was because he'd just brought them to yet another dumpy, probably-condemned apartment.