The Three Bears
By Alex Morgan
George stepped out the backdoor of his family home and into the oppressive heat of early August. He sprinted barefoot across the hot cement and jumped into the clear, cool waters of the in-ground pool. Swimming the length underwater, he emerged at the opposite end, exhaling and shaking water from his mop of blond hair. He swam in lazy circles enjoying the relief from an unseasonably hot summer.
“George Harold Lattimer, Junior!”
“Oh, s**t,” he muttered, turning to the sound of the voice. Whenever his mother used his full name, it usually meant trouble and that was not a good sign. Ruth Lattimer strutted out the door with a martini glass in one hand and a cigarette in the other. Her cat-eye framed sunglasses made her look angry even when she wasn’t. Judging
