Rain (Hudson 1)

"I didn't spend that much time with them. Alison wasn't very in

terested in anything I had to say. Brody was nice. He's very good looking, as good looking as Corbette Adams."

I smiled.

"What?"

"Corbette picked me up earlier today and we went to his place to study lines."

"Oh," she said. She sounded disappointed. I imagined she, like most of the girls I knew at Dogwood, had a crush on him and dreamed she would be the object of his attention.

"Did you know he has his own little apartment in the barn?"

"Yes. It's famous," she said.

"Excuse me? What do you mean, famous?"

"Lots of girls have seen it. I never have," she added quickly. She mashed the potatoes harder. "But Corbette doesn't stay with one girl too long. I don't have any experience when it comes to boys, but I feel safe warning you to watch out. I wouldn't go there even if he invited me," she assured me.

I smiled to myself. This sounded like the fable of the fox and the grapes. Mama used to quote it all the time: The fox tried to reach the grapes, but they were too high. After repeated attempts, he declared they were sour anyway.

"He's not as bad as he makes out to be," I said.

I took out pieces of chicken and put them on a plate. They looked and smelled wonderful.

"He has a reputation. The other boys call him King Cherry Picker."

"What? Why?"

"He brags about how many virgins he's ruined," she said with her face turning crimson.

I smiled at her and shook my head.

"That's probably just all rumor. Boys brag a lot in the locker room. He's actually a very sensitive person. It hasn't been easy for him since his little brother's death. He opened his heart a little and told me."

"What?"

"About his younger brother dying from a blood disease," I said. "He was only four."

She stared at me for a moment. I turned off the fire under the black-eyed peas and put them into a serving bowl. When I looked back at Audrey, she was still staring at me with the same strange expression on her face. She looked like she had just swallowed her chewing gum.

"What is it?" I asked. "You look so funny all of a sudden. Still think cooking is so difficult?"

"No, I was thinking about what you just said about Corbette's little brother."

"So?"

"I didn't know he had died."

"Oh. Very sad. Only four years old," I said. "You take the potatoes and the peas in. I'll take the chicken. The table is set and..."

"Four years old? No, he's about eight. I know because my mother is on the same charity board of directors as Corbette's and she asks about him all the time."

I paused, tilting my head.

"I don't understand what you're saying, Audrey."

"Corbette's little brother isn't suffering from a blood disease. Well, I suppose technically it might be called that. It has to do with chromosomes and stuff. He has Down Syndrome. You know what that is?"