The Glass House People by Kathryn Reiss Page B

Grandmother went to answer. She turned to the others with a puzzled expression on her face. "Beth? It's for you."
    It must have been those thoughts of Death By Chocolate, flying across the Rockies, that made him call her at last. Darling Ray! Beth leaped up to take the receiver from her grandmother. "Hello!"
    "Well, hi," said Monica's voice. "It's nice you're so glad to hear from me."
    "Oh—hi. I thought you were my boyfriend calling from California. But I
am
glad to hear from you." She sat on the little stool in the corner and hunched over, aware that her family all watched from the table. The phone didn't ring all that much in this house.
    "I finally got all your messages this afternoon," Monica said. "I've been out of town—back in Ohio with my mother and stepfather. They called just after I met you, I guess it was, because my little half-sister had fallen off her bike and broken her ankle and couldn't go to the summer day camp they'd planned for her—oh, it's a long story." She broke off with a laugh. "Anyway, never mind. Families are total trouble. I ended up going there to take care of Jenny while they worked. I'll tell you the gory details later. Can we get together tonight? There's a triple feature at the Waverley. Do you like science fiction?"
    "Sure!" She liked anything—
anything
—that would get her out for an evening. They arranged to meet at the Waverley, and Beth hung up with a lighter heart.

    "You'll have to introduce me to your brother," Monica said as the girls stood in line for their tickets. "I broke up with my boyfriend back in Cleveland before I came to live with Dad, and I just haven't met anyone I like yet."
    "Tom's nice," Beth said. "He's only fifteen, but he's tall, so he looks older. People usually think he's my
older
brother." She rolled her eyes. "The only thing
really
wrong with him is that he's a computer maniac. It's like the worst kind of maniac you could ever come across."
    The girls sat in the old theater's center section in deep, padded seats and shared a large tub of buttered popcorn. Before the triple feature started they talked in low voices. Monica told Beth how she had moved from Cleveland just after Christmas to live here with her father. He owned the old-fashioned candy shop down the street from the movie theater, and they lived in an apartment upstairs. The theater smelled a bit musty but was cool and dark. A man on the stage in front of the thick royal blue curtains played dramatic music on an ornate organ. The music seemed to come from another time, as if accompanying a silent movie. As she listened to Monica's chatter, Beth felt her shoulder muscles relaxing. She slouched down in her seat. She hadn't realized her body was so tense.
    The organ player took a bow and the thick curtains parted to reveal the modern movie screen. Then the films began—classic science fiction oldies, including Beth's all-time favorite,
Star Wars.
Something about the film reminded her of Aunt Iris's painting, the one she planned to work in glass. She was annoyed to have thoughts of home intruding on her night away. But the scenes from the painting kept flickering in her mind as if they, too, were scenes from a film. Was the connection simply the rockets? Or the battle for good over evil?

    Later that night, Beth and Tom took Romps for his last run before bedtime. As they walked, Tom chattered on about his new friend, Mark, and the new computer. Beth told him that Monica wanted to meet him. She noticed that his step seemed bouncy again, as if some of his tension, too, had evaporated during his evening away from the house.
    They returned to the house and hesitated for a moment outside the front door. The house was quiet, the upstairs windows dark. Without saying a word, they walked over to the glider at the end of the porch and sat down. Romps jumped up and pressed his little gray body firmly between them on the seat cushion. Tom kicked the glider into motion and kept it going. The