Beyond Reach by Melody Carlson Read Free Book Online Page B

at school, then says, “See ya,” and heads off toward his class. I guess everyone probably thinks of us as a couple now, but I still don't feel totally sure myself. Not that Conrad is seeing anyone else, but I suppose I'm just not used to this exclusive thing yet. And I don't think I'll ever use the term “going steady” because it sounds so stupid.
    Of course, Olivia thinks it's great that Conrad and I are “dating,” and she wishes that she and Conrad's friend Alex were a couple. But so far they mostly do things with us, as a foursome, and it hasn't gotten very serious between them.
    Olivia's worried that Alex might have his eye on Brittany Fallows, which I think is ridiculous. I mean, those two might've gone together back in middle school, but I've heard Brittany putting Alex down and I seriously doubt they'll ever get back together again. Olivia just needs to chill. Maybe act a little less interested. Guys don't like being chased.
    “Of course, I'm in,” Olivia tells me when I pass Conrad's invitation for her and Alex to join us after the game tonight. “I'll pick you up sevenish, and we can watch the end of the JV game before varsity plays.” She sounds happy as shechatters all the way home from school. I think she's feeling hopeful about Alex, and I want to warn her to go easy tonight, but I don't want to be a downer.
    The house feels icy cold when I get home. I know Mom is trying to save on the gas bill by turning the heat off during the day. Trying to ignore the damp chill in the air, I fix myself a cup of cocoa and keep my jacket on for a while. But then I think,
This is ridiculous. Why am I freezing in my own home?
    That's when I decide to start a fire in the fireplace. It's something my dad used to do on a cold winter's day, but something we rarely do anymore. Mom and I didn't even have a fire in there at Christmas. But suddenly I wonder why not. I mean, we still have lots of firewood. Sure it's a little work, but maybe it'll cheer this place up.
    So I gather newspaper and kindling and get everything all ready to go, just like Dad used to do; then I use one of those long matches and light it up. Unfortunately, I didn't think to open the flue first. The next thing I know, smoke is going everywhere, and before long the smoke alarm in the kitchen is blaring, and I don't know what to do.
    I used a lot of newspaper, and the flames are so hot that I can't put my hand in to open it up. I run around the smoky house with the obnoxious alarm screaming like a wounded animal, until I finally decide to use an oven mitt and the fire poker. After several feeble attempts, I get the stupid thing open.
    Of course, now the family room and kitchen are full of smoke. And I smell like smoke. But I manage to disarmthe fire alarm and I open some windows, which makes it even colder in here. Then I turn on the exhaust fan over the stove and in the powder room, and after a while, it thins a bit, but it's still a little gray looking, and my eyes are burning. Naturally, as I'm trying to clean the air, my fire, which only had kindling on it, goes out for lack of wood. I would make a pathetic Boy Scout.
    “What is going on here?” Mom demands as she walks in the front door. It figures that this would be an early day for her. It's not even five and here she is. Just great.
    I try to explain what I've been doing, even trying to make it sound funny, but I can tell by the hardness in her eyes that she's angry. “It smells like you tried to burn the house down.”
    “I'm sorry, but it was cold in here.”
    “Then turn up the stupid thermostat.”
    “But Sometimes you get mad when I turn it up,” I point out, which is true. She's yelled at me twice this week for having it turned up too high, although it was barely over seventy.
    “Well, then learn how to use the fireplace correctly before you go and burn the place to the ground!” She picks up the disarmed smoke alarm, which is still on the kitchen counter, its wires and batteries