Free Under a Bear Moon by Carrie S. Masek Page A

your book, Mr.—I mean Dr. Ursek. It's wonderful.”
    “Thank you. And ‘Mr.’ is fine. I am a scholar, not a physician. Now please go. I must work.”
    Greg walked up behind him. “Come on, Lynda. Dad's kind of grumpy when he first wakes up.”
    “I am not grumpy,” he growled. “Just busy.” Suddenly, he chuckled. Mr. Ursek had a warm, infectious laugh. He shook his head and combed his fingers through his hair. “My father used to say that. Mother would accuse him of being a grouchy old bear, and he would deny it. Mother was always right.”
    He chuckled again before taking Lynda's hand. “It is very nice to meet you, my dear. Please excuse a grumpy old man's lack of manners.” Then he completely disarmed her by raising her hand to his lips and kissing it.
    “Hey, Dad, none of that. She's my girl, remember.” Taking Lynda's hand, Greg picked up her backpack and led her out of the apartment.
    Lynda didn't hear anything Greg said on the way home. All evening long, his parting comment kept running through her mind. “My girl,” she repeated to herself that night while she got ready for bed. “Greg's girl.” The words echoed in Lynda's dreams all night long.

Interlude

    “HE CAN'T GO to school like that.”
    A woman's voice, warm and comforting, drifted through his sleeping mind. Her words merged with his dreams and faded before they could touch him.
    “I told him last night to stay home,” growled a deeper voice.
    Those words threatened to wake him. Groaning, he buried his nose deeper in the pillow.
    “With the storm outside, we might as well let him sleep it off,” the soothing voice said. “He won't sleep too long. Will he?”
    “No. The sun will wake him when the storm breaks. Come, you had better call and report him sick.”
    Footsteps receded into silence, leaving him to float on the aura of the stormy winter morning.

Chapter 8

    ELLEN FROWNED at her reflection in the lunchroom windows. “I can't believe Mom made me come to school today.”
    A storm had howled into the city during the night. Half a foot of snow had already fallen, with at least that much more expected before the storm blew itself out. Wind whipped through the trees outside and whistled through the electric power lines.
    Lynda swallowed the last bite of her cottage cheese. “Greg was smart to stay home.”
    Ellen turned back to the table. “I thought maybe he was sick. I mean, he is always going around with his jacket open.”
    “He was fine yesterday after school.” When Ellen wiggled her eyebrows, Groucho Marx-style, Lynda groaned. “Get a life, Ellen. I ran into him at the library.”
    Hiding her smirk behind her sandwich, Ellen nodded. “Sure you did.” She giggled and added, “So tell me, are you trying out for the Spring musical?”
    “Of course, are you?”
    “Not this year. Ms. Cavelini asked me to audition for a solo in the dance recital. If I get it, I won't have time.”
    Lynda studied the gleam in her friend's eyes. “You know you'll get it.”
    Ellen grinned. “Ms. Cavelini never asks someone to audition unless she already has them in mind for some-thing.”
    Glancing at the clock over the lunchroom door, Lynda slid back her chair. “See you in pre-calc.”
    “See you.”
    Lynda waved and headed for the door. Ellen turned her face to the window and stared through it, as though mesmerized by the swirling madness outside.
* * * *
    TWO DAYS later, Lynda spotted Greg jogging down Ken-wood Avenue on the way to school. She called his name, and he waited while she caught up with him.
    “You missed all the excitement,” she said handing him her backpack. “School closed Tuesday during sixth period. The power went out, and they sent us home early.”
    The storm had finally blown itself out, and sunshine glittered off the snowy blanket left behind. The main thoroughfares had been plowed, but the side streets, sidewalks, and lawns were shrouded in unblemished white. Leaving calf-deep imprints in the pristine