Read Under a Bear Moon Online

Authors: Carrie S. Masek

Tags: #Science Fiction/Fantasy

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BOOK: Under a Bear Moon
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While the waitress cleared the table and refilled their coffee cups, Mr. Ursek spun his tales for Lynda. Finally he sighed and pushed back from the table. “You are very patient, Lynda, listening so long to an old man's stories. Tell me a little about yourself. What are your plans for next year?” He smiled proudly. “Greg will be entering Stanford in the fall.”

“I'll be at the Lab school.” When Greg's father looked surprised, she added. “I'm only a junior.”

“You are?” Lynda and Greg both nodded. “How young are you?”

“Bernard,” Mrs. Ursek broke in.

He glanced at his wife. “I am just curious how young the young lady is.” Returning to Lynda, he added, “If you do not mind my asking.”

“Of course not. I'm sixteen and a half. I'll be seventeen in August.”

“She's already been accepted here at U of C,” Greg said, swallowing the last bite and wiping his mouth with a well-smeared napkin. “Lynda wants to go to veterinary school in Davis when she gets done with her undergrad.”

“An excellent ambition. Of course it will take hard work and many years to accomplish. Tell me,” he said, leaning forward on his massive elbows, “won't that interfere with marriage and children?”

Greg turned bright red. “Dad!”

“Leave the girl alone,” his mother added.

Lynda's face felt as bright as Greg's. “I don't know, I haven't thought much about marriage. I am only sixteen. Dad didn't meet Mom until he was almost thirty—I guess I'm a late bloomer, like him.”

Greg's father frowned and opened his mouth to speak, but Mrs. Ursek cut him off.

“That's very sensible, Lynda. There's no need to rush these things. Greg,” she said turning to her son. “Why don't you walk Lynda home while your father and I take care of the bill. We'll meet you at the apartment later.”

“Okay, Mom.” Greg sprang up and extended his hand to Lynda.

Happy to escape the inquisition, she stood. “Thanks for brunch.”

Taking Greg's hand, Lynda ran out the door without looking back. She never saw the worry that clouded Mr. Ursek's face.

* * * *

LYNDA SAT AT the desk in her room, brushing her hair. Almost ready for bed, she wore her favorite flannel night-gown, white, dotted with red rose buds. She smiled to herself while the brush traveled over her shoulder and down her arm. This morning on the way home from brunch, Greg had said how much he liked her hair. Looking at its dark waves in the mirror, Lynda decided to never get it cut. She was imagining the brush was Greg's hand when a quiet rap broke her reverie.

“Come in.”

The bedroom door opened, and her mother stepped in-to the room. “Lynda, I'd like to talk to you.”

She set down the hairbrush and turned to her mother. “I know I left the kitchen a mess last night. But the spaghetti sauce took longer to make than I expected. By the time dinner was over, I was so tired—”

“That's all right, dear,” her mother interrupted. “I'm not here to talk about the kitchen.”

“Oh.” Lynda racked her memory for another reason her mother might be mad. Carol Malone never came into her children's rooms except to scold them.

She sat down on the bed. “I'm just curious about that young man you've been seeing.”

“You mean Greg?”

For the first time she could remember, her mother refused to meet her gaze. She examined Lynda's walls as if counting the wildlife posters. “Yes. You've been spending a lot of time with him.”

“Not really. What do you want to know?”

The line between her mother's eyebrows deepened. “I've been wondering about your relationship.”

Relationship. Lynda liked the sound of that. Then a thought crossed her mind, and she giggled. “You're not worried about his intentions, are you?”

Her mother astonished her by blushing. “I would just like to know a little more about the boy, that's all. But if you feel I'm prying...” She stood and smoothed invisible wrinkles out of her dress. “It's late. We'll discuss this another time.” Turning, she fled the room.

Lynda stared after her mother and wondered what her problem was. Shrugging, she turned back to her hair, and soon lost herself in thoughts of Greg and memories of the morning's brunch.

Interlude

SPRING SCENTED the air, but he was more interested in the ground. Still frozen and seemingly lifeless, the earth seethed with activity just below the surface. Ant hills stirred; chipmunks turned in their burrows. Plants strained against the frosty crust. Purple and gold crocus dotted the campus and shuttered daffodils graced the flower beds. The breeze whispered promises of warm days and bright sunlight, but it was the moon's glow that brushed them all with silver.

He looked up and squinted into the brilliance. Only hours past perfect fullness, the moon's pull was nearly irresistible. Bathing in the moonlight, it was easy to forget that morning was on its way. He remembered, though, and turned his reluctant nose home.

Chapter 9

GREG APPEARED on Lynda's doorstep every day before school, and she found herself looking forward to walking with him. One cold, sunny morning in early March, she looked up and saw the full moon poised just above the roofs ahead of them. “Look. Isn't the moon beautiful?”

Greg nodded. “Great-grandmother Ursek used to call a moon like that a bear moon.”

“A bear moon? Why ‘bear'?”

He shrugged. “Bears were her favorite animal, I guess. According to Dad, she told him that animals call a truce when the moon is full and dance together under its light. She used to warn him to stay in the house on those nights. She told him anyone stumbling across the dancers would fall under their spell and join them. From that day on, whenever the moon was full, the spell would take over and the unfortunate soul would find himself searching the night for another dance.”

Lynda sighed. “I wish my grandmother told fairy tales like that.”

They crossed the street and walked up the school steps. Lynda checked her watch while the heavy door closed be-hind them. “We've got a couple of minutes, want to grab a cup of cocoa before first period?”

“Can't. I've got to see Mr. Pullman about that make-up work.”

Disappointed, Lynda watched him amble toward the Teacher's Lounge.

“Hey, Lucy, how was your weekend?” asked a smooth, well-modulated voice.

Lynda spun around and found herself looking into Richard Hammer's smiling face. “Don't sneak up on me like that,” she snapped.

He stepped back. “I thought you heard me coming.”

She grinned sheepishly. “Afraid not.”

Richard turned up the wattage on his smile. “Want to go over Act Two before school starts? We could use one of the tables in the lunchroom.”

“Great idea.” A sudden thought clouded her expression. “If I have my script. I ran out in such a hurry today—”

Taking her arm, Richard steered Lynda down the hall toward the cafeteria. “It doesn't matter. We can share mine.”

“You know,” Lynda said while they walked down the hallway. “I never appreciated how much work a leading role is. The lines are driving me crazy.”

They stopped in front of the cafeteria door and he held it open for her. “It does take a lot of practice. Last year in
Carousel
, I had the worst time with Billy's soliloquy. You know, the one about his kid? Took me forever to learn it. Mendelson threatened to give the part to my understudy. But I kept trying and finally got it straight.”

Walking into the cafeteria, Lynda spotted an empty table. Moments later she was sitting next to Richard, their heads almost touching over his script.

“Know what's driving me craziest?” Lynda said after they'd finished the scene where Lucy tries to feed Schroeder's piano to the kite eating tree.

Richard met her gaze and held it, eyes burning green-gold, like peridots in a fourteen-carat setting. “No, what? Your failure to get rid of my piano?”

Lynda laughed. “I'm serious. It's ‘The Baseball Game.’ Through most of the song, Lucy harasses Charlie Brown while he sings over her, but sometimes I need to speak loud enough for the audience to hear me. I'm having a terrible time remembering when to break in on Matt. Last Thursday, after you left, we worked on it for over half an hour, and I still didn't get it right. We have a few minutes left,” she said glancing at the clock over the door. “Would you mind helping me with it until the bell rings?”

Richard smiled and took her hand. “For you, Lucy, anything.”

* * * *

“WHERE'D I put that stupid script?” Lynda muttered, bumping the lunchroom door open with her hip. Standing just inside the cafeteria, she rifled through her backpack until she withdrew a notebook with a triumphant flourish. “Found it.”

The cafeteria door swung open. “Found what?”

Ellen entered the cafeteria, and Lynda waved the notebook at her. “My script. I couldn't find it this morning, and it wasn't in my locker. Thank goodness, it was just stuck inside my history binder.” She flicked her finger against the script's cardboard cover and returned it to her backpack.

They chose a table, and Lynda started unwrapping her sandwich. “How are rehearsals going?” Ellen asked.

“Pretty well, I guess. But I've never had such a big part before.” Lynda nibbled on the pita bread before adding, “I'd be in trouble if Richard wasn't helping me.”

Ellen half-choked on a sip of milk. “Richard Hammer? Helping? You've got to be kidding.”

“No, really. He's stayed after rehearsals so we could go over our scenes. He's given me pointers on how to keep my lines straight. He's even given me a ride home a couple of times. I know Richard usually acts like a jerk, but he's been great since rehearsals began.” Lynda shook her head. “It just shows how wrong I can be. I thought he'd be a pain to work with.”

Ellen grabbed Lynda's arm hard enough to hurt. “Believe me, Richard is a pain. The worst kind of pain. What-ever you do, don't trust him.”

Staring at her friend's pinched face, Lynda carefully eased her arm from her grasp. “Why? What did he do, Ellen? It must have been terrible if you're still mad about it.”

“Nothing, I just—” She stopped and looked up. Lynda turned around and saw that Greg had entered the lunch-room. Ellen waved. “Hey, Greg, I thought maybe you and Lynda had a fight when she came in here alone.”

Greg pulled up a chair and joined them. “I had to stay late in biology and finish a make-up assignment. Lynda offered to stay with me, but Mr. Pullman wouldn't let her. I think he's afraid she'd do the work.”

Lynda set down her sandwich. “That's because you refuse to do dissections.”

“I don't refuse to do dissections, I can't do them be-cause of the formaldehyde.”

“And your sensitive sinuses. I know, you told me. But I don't think Mr. Pullman is as sympathetic about it as I am.”

Greg grinned. “No one is as sympathetic as you are.”

Lynda beamed back at him.

“I think I'm going to be sick,” Ellen muttered. Lynda kicked her under the table, and she quickly added, “Just kidding.”

“Miss Mendelson changed the rehearsal time today,” Lynda told Greg. “She has a doctor's appointment. We're meeting in the auditorium at seven and rehearsing until nine or so. Can you still come?”

He shook his head. “No way. Dad has some boxes he never unpacked sitting in the basement. He wants me to bring them upstairs this evening so he can look for a book. The way he packs, it could take all night.”

Ellen crumpled her bag and pushed her chair back. “I hate to eat and run. But I have to see Ms. Cavelini before class starts. She's taking measurements for recital costumes. Catch you later.”

Lynda and Greg waved, but their eyes never left each other.

“Let's get together at the library after school and study for Friday's biology test,” Greg said after the first bell rang.

Stuffing her sandwich into her bag, Lynda hesitated before answering. “I was going to check out Open Gym this afternoon.”

Greg stood and they started walking toward the door. “Open Gym? I thought that was for grammar school kids, to give them a place to run around after school.”

“It is, mostly, but anyone can go. It's good exercise.” Lynda laughed when Greg shuddered at the word.

“I don't need exercise,” Greg said firmly, holding the cafeteria door open. “But if you're going, I'll watch.”

* * * *

THE GYM was a madhouse. Balls thudded. Children shrieked. Mr. Peterson and Ms. Barret-Smith, the two PE teachers supervising the chaos, blew their whistles and shouted over the din with practiced ease. Kids flew across the polished gymnasium floor, chasing balls and each other. The youngest were six or seven, there with big brothers and sisters, but most of the kids were in the intermediate grades. Lynda recognized a couple from the high school. Standing outside the Girls’ Locker room, she watched them all glow with expended energy. Catching her brother John-John's eye—he was playing floor hockey with a group of friends—she waved before turning to search the ball box for a basketball.

She was lifting out an orange ball when she heard a familiar voice. “Lynda!”

Straightening, she turned and watched Greg dodge miniature dervishes all the way across the gymnasium floor. “This place is a zoo,” he complained, stumbling up to her after tripping over a fearless nine-year-old.

Lynda grinned. “I know. Isn't it great?”

He smiled wryly. “That's not the word I would have chosen. What's the plan?”

“I'm going to play basketball.” Lynda bounced the ball a few times. Once she was satisfied the ball had enough air in it, she headed for the basket mounted over the locker room door.

No one else was using the basket. The younger players tended to cluster around the lower baskets lining the sides of the gym. Lynda dribbled up to the free-throw line and shot. When the ball caught the rim and tumbled in, she gave a triumphant shout and ran forward to scoop up the ball.

“Malone—2, Ursek—0,” she yelled and passed the ball to Greg.

The ball connected with his solar plexus and a gust of air “umphed” out of him. Fumbling the ball, he dribbled it awkwardly and pretended to glare at her. “No fair! I didn't know we were playing a game.”

“You do now.” She ran up to Greg. “One on one basketball is a great way to burn off stress and tension, not to mention fat.”

BOOK: Under a Bear Moon
2.47Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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