Flat-Out Matt

He was edgy tonight, too, because it was impossible not to worry about what had gone on while he’d been at school today. Julie was an unknown factor that had played into Celeste’s day. Even Julie’s reassurances over the phone that Celeste was fine hadn’t comforted him much, because he didn’t like anyone else being involved. And saying that things were “fine” just had to be inaccurate. Things were never “fine” with Celeste. Even if picking up Celeste from school hadn’t been an outright disaster, something unusual, or strained, or difficult must have taken place. Julie had no long-term experience with Celeste, and just because Julie had done well with his sister over the matter of a few days didn’t mean that she knew what to say. And what not to say. It wouldn’t take much to push Celeste over the edge, and for all Matt knew, he was walking into a house now filled with a hundred Flat Fi

Matt would grab whatever leftovers he could find in the fridge and duck up to his room. He had a long night of schoolwork ahead of him.

It was immediately obvious when he stepped into the house that something was off, but he couldn’t quite narrow down what that something was. He could feel the tension in his shoulders increase as he walked into the kitchen, and he felt as though all of his senses were malfunctioning.

Julie turned to him and smiled. Without meeting her eyes, Matt set his messenger bag on one of the stools by the breakfast counter. He looked at the plate in front of him.

“What is this?”

“It’s a gastronomical representation of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof.” Julie put her hands on her hips. Her dark hair was in a loose ponytail, and she had on rolled-up jeans and a light, flowy top. “Don’t you see it?” she continued. “The clear depiction of the struggle for sexual identity as evidenced by the two phallic shapes?”

Matt stared at her. This girl was confusing. “What are you talking about?”

“What are you talking about? It’s manicotti, you nut. What do you think it is?”

“I know that.” Even though Julie had just used the words sexual and phallic, he still had brain function, for God’s sake. “I was referencing the noticeable absence of takeout cartons. You made di

“Celeste and I made di

“And they did a wonderful job.” His mother appeared and placed her wine glass on the counter.

Matt briefly registered that Erin was drinking, but the lure of the food in front of him dulled any concern he had about that. He immediately sat down and started eating, barely hearing his mother as she talked to Julie. An actual home-cooked di

Someone had cooked for him. What a stupid thing to think. Or to care about.

“You’re home late. How was school? Did your meeting go well?” Erin asked.

Matt nodded and wiped his mouth with a napkin. A cloth napkin, at that. “Very good. Sorry I’m home late. And even sorrier that I’ve managed to double my workload by agreeing to be a research assistant.” This was also adding to Matt’s stress level. He would potentially be spending more time at school and therefore be less available to Celeste. Finding a way to make this work was going to be difficult.

“This is with Professor Saunders, correct? He has an excellent reputation, so this is an important opportunity for you.” Erin took a sip of her wine, and Matt looked away. “You’ll have to be incredibly diligent with your work.”

“I realize that.” Like he needed reminding about anything related to his academics. It wasn’t as though Matt had a long history of completely screwing up in school—he’d gotten into MIT, after all—yet his mother frequently implied that his education was somehow perilously hanging in the balance, and he might just crash off the academia scale at any given moment. “In fact,” Matt said as he stood up, “I should get upstairs and get to work. I’ll finish di

“Yeah?”

“So things went all right today?” Asking her to pick up Celeste today had taken every ounce of nerve he had. But once—just once—he hadn’t wanted to drop what he was doing to attend to his sister. But he felt awful about it, as though he had let down Celeste yet again. Meeting with his professor had been important to him, because as much as he loathed the way his mother rode him constantly about his education, she hadn’t managed to kill his insatiable interest in learning. He’d delayed a year of school after Fi

“Totally fine. I told you that when you called. Both times,” she said.

He admired the tone in her voice, the same one that she used a number of times the day they went apartment hunting. It actually was a bit Fi

“Okay. Thanks again.”

When he reached his room, he shut the door, opened his laptop and finished his di

Of course, he hadn’t pla