Page 37

Ten

“Oh my god,” Corrine breathes, placing her hand on the wall. “Exposed brick.”

Of the four apartments we’ve checked out so far, this one is my favorite solely because it’s a town house. It has two floors and the bedrooms aren’t much different in size. If you asked Corrine, though, she’d say it has great opportunities for natural light and a charm she can’t put her finger on. She’s practically a middle-aged woman.

My mom laughs from the modest kitchen—the smallest we’ve seen so far, but I’m more likely to use the microwave than the oven anyway. “While that’s nice, what do you think of the rest of it?”

“Since it’s just the two of you, it feels like enough space.” Corrine walks the few feet from the dining room to the living room. “And since Saine will be gone soon, I guess it just matters what you think of it.”

“Excuse you. I get a say.” We meet my mother near thewooden stairs to the second floor.

“Then say,” Corrine says, taking the stairs two at a time.

“What do you think?” my mom asks, following Corrine at a much slower pace. She watches me over her shoulder. “It’s not bad.”

“I guess I don’t understand how we could afford this, but not our house.” The first step creaks when I put my full weight on it. I thought having a second floor would be cool until I realized that coming in and out quietly would be nearly impossible.

“We could afford thisplusmore.” She wiggles her eyebrows. “You could maybe get a car.”

“A car would be cool.” I speed up. “I’d pay you back for it, though.”

“The closets are huge!” Corrine calls from one of the bedrooms. “The bathroom is tragic—only one sink—but it’s a shower and tub combo for whatever suits your mood, so I’ll forgive it.”

I take a spin around the bathroom. My mom and I shared a similar size with my grandma. But there’s no storage space in here besides behind the vanity and under the sink.

“Where’s the closet?”

“The hallway,” Corrine says, charging out of the closest bedroom and into the next one.

“Do you already know the layout of the whole apartment?” I ask, entering the room after her. “What’s the square footage—” Without even seeing the other room, I know this is the smaller one. The one that would be mine.

“Balcony!” she says with a huge grin on her face. She gesturesto the sliding door and the balcony beyond, like I hadn’t seen it despite all the light flowing inside through it.

My mom comes up behind me, leaning against the door frame. “It’s nice, right?”

The room has a built-in bookshelf. I’m not much of a reader these days, but it’s so pretty that I might become one. At the very least, I could use it to store my embarrassingly large collection of DVDs—I know the world has moved beyond, but it’s hard to switch formats when I already own them and don’t have the money to replace them. The carpet, like in the rest of the house, is a cream color. Not too dark, not too light. The perfect shade. My mom told me before I made any comments today that she checked with all the landlords and they all approved of me painting the walls if we painted them this sad, boring white color when we moved out.

Just as Corrine said, the closet is huge. A shelf sits a few inches atop the rod and a unit of drawers stands below. It’s definitely enough storage for me, and the rest of the room has enough space for my desk.

Corrine opens the sliding door and steps onto the balcony to check out the view.

My phone starts vibrating in my hand.

My mom asks, “What do you think?” but the caller ID on the screen stops me from answering her. It’s Holden. We don’t have plans to do anything documentary-related for a few days. I needed some time for things to go back to normal with Corrine, to let her get acclimated to me spending time with him—and to figure out some leading questions for my futureinterviews for the Give Holden Heart Crusade.

“I, uh, I think I have to take this.” I start moving out of the room, but then look back to Corrine, the sun highlighting her face as she smiles to herself.

I turn away and answer, heading into the hall. “Hello?”

“Saine Sinclair.”

I lower my voice. “What’s up?”

“Are you free today? For photos?”

“No.” I enter the master bedroom and close the door quietly. “Why can’t you use Taj again?”

I hate being in front of the camera, any camera. Selfies don’t count because technically I’m in front of the camera and behind the camera. I have the control I need to make sure I feel good about how I look as a result. I’ve been tagged in too many cheerleading candids with open mouths, double chins, and half-closed eyes. Plus, the less time I actually have to spend with Holden, the better it will be for my relationship with Corrine, and probably my sanity.