Free Mean Season by Heather Cochran Page A

Mr. Bellevue meant memorable in a good way. But President Kennedy’s assassination was memorable, too. And the space shuttle coming down in flames. And my dad dying, even that was memorable on a smaller scale.
    Of course, I hoped the summer would be memorable in a good way. For heaven’s sake, Joshua Reed was going to be living in my house! He was there even as I folded up the note. He was there even as I walked out of the county clerk’s office. I wondered if he’d sleep late. I wondered what he’d want to do on his first full day under our roof. I had no doubt that after a good night’s sleep, he’d have relaxed some and feel more himself. Maybe I’d suggest that we rent a few movies. Maybe he’d let me listen to him practice his Musket Fire lines.
    With the first, awkward night behind us, I felt hopeful. Ninety days was ample time to get to know someone. Sandy and I hadn’t needed a month to become fast friends when we’d met in the third grade. At the end of ninety days, Joshua and I might well be inseparable. We might have private jokes. We might realize that we both hate runny eggs and love Mounds bars. Maybe he’d introduce me to some of his friends—on the phone or if ever a few of them decided to fly in and surprise him for a weekend.
    I knew that Joshua and I already had things in common. Like the fact that we’d both excelled in English in high school. And that we were both allergic to cats. And like me, he’d grown up in a small town, even farther from a big city than we were in Pinecob. Although he’d sure made it clear that he preferred city living.
    In the parking lot, my keys fit in the car lock the same as usual. The steering wheel felt in my hands like it always did, as I spun it away from the municipal building. The road beneath the tires was smooth where I expected smooth, and the stoplight by the post office shone red, then green, as always. But back at my house, Joshua Reed was sleeping between the same sheets I sometimes slept between. How crazy was that? It felt like remembering a dream, the sense of everything just a step beyond belief. My house, but not my house. The feel of life, but not quite. Joshua Reed, movie star, was sleeping between my sheets.
    I knew that a lot of women would have killed—or at least scratched and bit—for the chance to take my place. Back when I was sixteen or seventeen, I might have done the same. But at twenty-five, I wasn’t holding on to the crazy fantasies I’d harbored in my teens. And besides, I knew that Joshua was dating Elise, the Belgian supermodel with aqua eyes.
    I looked into the rearview mirror. My eyes were as brown as ever. And anyway, I’ve always been one to respect an existing relationship. I don’t know what the feminine equivalent of chivalry is, but maybe you’d call it that. Sandy, on the other hand, would probably call it me not having the gumption to hold my hand out for what I wanted. But I knew what it felt like, someone moving in on your boyfriend when you’re not around. The same thing had happened to me with Howard Malkin. I wasn’t going to be like that.
    It was around eight-thirty in the morning when I got back home, and Momma was making blueberry cottage cheese pancakes, which sounds weird, but they’re the best pancakes ever. She almost never made them, so it must have been Joshua who brought out the act. She told me to get Beau Ray up and to offer Joshua more coffee.
    â€œJudy said we shouldn’t be catering to him,” I told her.
    â€œJudy’s not here,” Momma said. “And Judy don’t make the rules in this house, so git.”
    I’d bought a Charles Town Register on my way home, and I dropped it on the dining room table as I passed. Joshua looked up at me.
    â€œHey sleepyhead,” I said, at the door of Beau Ray’s room. I was glad to see that Beau Ray, at least, had slept with his door wide open.