DEATH IN PERSPECTIVE by Larissa Reinhart

Luke stopped and squeezed my hand. “Sure sugar, give me your report. We should
     meet. Some place where we can get away from everyone else.”
    I stared at my hand resting in his and pulled it free to cross over Bert and Ernie . “Maybe we should just meet here.”
    Luke tried to smile. “I’m sorry for being such a shit.”
    “Try being nicer to Tara,” I said. “She’s good people.”
    “I know.” Luke blew out asigh. “Too good for the likes of me.”

Nine

      
    I had left Red’s troubled and full of doubt, feelings I didn’t want to ferment. I
     drove the few blocks to my ninety-year-old Georgia bungalow, parked under the crammed
     carport, and slunk into my bedroom. After living in my Great-Gam’s decrepit house
     by myself for five years, Todd’s presence in the only other bedroom sometimes taxed
     my patience. Tonight was one of those nights. I wanted my big sister, who dished man-wisdom
     better than she observed it. But Casey was too busy shacking up with her new husband
     to pay much attention to my romantic trials and tribulations.
    Besides, she was in the anti-Luke camp and I didn’t want to encourage those sentiments.
     I crawled under my quilt and stared up at my painting of Snug the Coonhound until sleep found me.
    The day dawned brighter and I chalked my isolation to bad pimento and hormones. I
     normally enjoyed sipping coffee and watching a half-nekkid Todd scramble to get to
     his day job, but I wanted to maintain the peace sleep had brought. I stayed in my
     room, piecing together an art director ensemble. I had finally settled on a white
     shift dress I had once painted with color blocks and black lines, Mondrian style.
     Later, I had found out Yves Saint Laurent had the same idea back in the ’ 60s.
    I was classic retro on accident. Peerless would dig it.
    “I like that dress, baby.”
    I looked up from my bed to find Todd leaning in my doorway, watching me pull on my
     left boot. His uniform shirt, shorts, and steel-toed boots all had the same dismal
     shade of burnt sienna. However, they did make his cherries tattoo pop.
    “Thanks, hon’,” I said and grabbed my other red cowboy boot.
    “Cherry, are you okay?” Todd plodded into my bedroom and sank onto the bed next to
     me. “You took off last night and I wasn’t even sure if you were home except you left
     all the lights on.”
    “I’m doing all right.” I smiled and patted his leg. “Going to my first day of school.”
    He ducked his tow head like a sheepish kid. “I’m sorry about last night. I got riled
     up seeing Luke pulling you in and stringing you along. And his girlfriend, Tara, is
     so sweet. I talked to her a bit. She’s going to watch Sticks play this weekend.”
    “That’s nice . ” I wrapped my arm around his brawny shoulder and squeezed. “Tara’s not going out
     with Luke, though. She’s just stalking him. But hey, she’s single if you’re interested.
     Doesn’t take break-ups too well, though.”
    “I’m not interested.” His blue eyes flicked toward me then away. “You know, she’s
     not the only one who doesn’t take break-ups well.”
    “You talking about me?”
    “I’m talking about Cody, actually. You need to talk to your brother, baby. I don’t
     know what’s got you so ticked, but he’s feeling it mighty bad.”
    “Fine. I’ll see him. I need to swing by the farm anyway.”
    The unfortunate consequence of kicking my brother out of my house was having him move
     back to my Grandpa’s farm. It didn’t please Grandpa. Nor Grandpa’s woman, Pearl, who
     felt we grandchildren had taken enough handouts from Ed Ballard. Nor Cody, who liked
     the in-town bachelor pad he had created in my house for a few weeks.
    Nor me, who enjoyed Pearl’s cooking and had just begun to enjoy her friendship when
     I had stopped visiting the farm to avoid Cody.
    “I miss hanging out with Cody,” Todd ventured. “He spends all his time in your Grandpa’s
     barn working on his cars. He’s