Page 29 of Overdue

“Hey, El. I heard everyone is going to that big hill behind the elementary to sled. Want to come?” Reed asks. “Brontë and Brat too.”

“Yeah!” Brontë answers. It’s on the tip of my tongue to announce we are capable of sledding without the help of the toxic patriarchy in our midst, but Brontë’s beaming face stops me.

“Mom, we’re going sledding with Reed,” Eliot yells toward the living room. I doubt our parents even care. They’re settled on the couch in front of the fire to watch an old movie marathon.

Following Reed out the door, I notice him pick up four round, metal trash can lids with the handles missing. Okay, score one for him. He, at least, has something for us to sled on.

It takes us a solid half an hour to hike the short distance to the school through the nearly knee-deep snow.

The elementary school sits up on the side of the hill, with the schoolyard at the bottom. The hill is already saturated with our friends and classmates. We call greetings to different groups as we follow Reed to an empty spot.

“Here’s a sled for everyone. Just put it at the edge and push.” He hands out the trash can lids.

“I know how to do it,” I snarl, snatching my lid out of Reed’s hands. Save me the mansplaining.

“Whatever you say.” He shakes his head. “You look like a flaming nightmare.” He smirks at me, and I curl my lip in a sneer. There is some truth to that statement, though. I’m dressed in Eliot’s old snow pants. And stupid Eliot had been into bright red the year she bought them.

“Jerk,” I mumble, sitting on my lid. Reed has the audacity to just grin at me. If given the opportunity, I’ll bury him up to his neck in snow. They’ll find him when it finally melts.

“Hey, Brontë. Are you okay?” he asks, looking past me.

“I don’t think I want to sled,” my younger sister says softly.

“You know, it does look steeper than I thought,” Reed answers. He sits down on his lid.

Great, Brontë is going to chicken out, and I’ll be stuck babysitting her. Looking around, I notice that Eliot has already taken her first run down the hill.

“I tell you what,” Reed continues. “I bet, if we go down together, it won’t be so bad.” I take a good look at Reed. He’s all gangly legs and takes up the entire lid. What is he talking about? They’ll never both fit. “Come on, Brontë. There’s room for both of us.”

She studies him for just a moment before scrambling over to climb in his lap. Wrapping his long arms around her to hold her safe, he scoots them closer to the edge.

I watch as Brontë flies down the hill, happily planted on Reed's legs. When they reached the bottom, they both fall over into the snow. I can hear them laughing. I shrug and push off the hill to join them.

By the time we leave the school, happily exhausted, Reed has Brontë racing down the hill on her own lid. Sure, he still fires off as many jerkisms as he can at me, but I don’t mind as much as I usually do. Today, he’s Brontë’s hero. Everybody likes a hero. Even if he’s disguised as Reed Campbell.

* * *

“That was a good day,” I admit quietly.

“What was?” I’ve almost forgotten I’m at Eliot’s house. I stand and take my glass to the kitchen.

“Nothing. I was just thinking you might be right.”

“Of course I’m right. I’m your big sister.”

I laugh. Pulling Eliot into a hug, I cling to her for as long as she allows. My sister has never been much for all that “touchy feely crap,” as she calls it. No one cares. We still hug her as much as possible, if just to aggravate her.

“Turn loose,” Eliot growls. “Don’t you have somewhere to go? Home, maybe?”

“I’m going.” Eliot follows me to the door. “Thanks for listening, El.”

“No problem.” I’m halfway to my car when I hear Eliot yell after me. “Next time, see what else that naughty tongue is good for.”

I spin around. My mouth drops almost to the ground again, only to find Eliot closing the door. Being the drama queen doesn’t do any good if no one is paying attention. I swear I can hear laughter coming from inside. I shrug. It’s not a bad suggestion.

eleven

REED

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