Call the Shots (Swim the Fly #3)(43)

“It’s not the baby’s room yet,” I snap.

“Oh, really?” Cathy laughs as she looks around at all the baby crap — the crib, the collapsed playpen, the folded-up changing table, the rocker — that Mom and Dad have been squirreling away in here. “Could have fooled me.”

“It’s mine until it isn’t,” I say, shaking my head. “And I’d appreciate you knocking before you just barge in here. Jeez, doesn’t anyone in this stupid house have any respect for privacy?”

“Might as well get used to it, loser,” Cathy says. “It’s not like I’m gonna be knocking on my own bedroom door when you move in. Which reminds me. Since you’ll be invading my space, you’re considered an unwanted guest. Now, I’ve been giving this situation some thought, and I’ve decided that the only way I’m going to be able to tolerate it is by charging you rent.”

I laugh. “Right. I’m going to pay you rent to live in my own house.”

“Great. I’m glad we agree. I was afraid I’d have to threaten to out you to the entire school. And as much as I want you to be true to yourself, I don’t imagine it’s how you’d choose to have the world find out about your love of all things penis.”

I stand up so that Cathy isn’t towering over me, though she’s still two inches taller than me when standing.

“Okay, let’s get a few things straight,” I say. “First of all, I’m not paying you rent.”

“Twenty-five dollars a month should do.” Cathy studies her spiderweb-adorned fingernails. “That still leaves you with enough of your allowance to buy your homoerotic video games.”

“And nextly,” I say, “I’m not even going to respond to the gay thing again.”

Cathy smirks. “You just did.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Methinks he doth protest too much.” She makes like she’s turning to leave my room, but at the last second she reaches over and plucks the movie folder off my desk. “What do we have here? A collection of love letters from your boyfriends?”

I lunge for the folder, but Cathy spins away. “That’s private property,” I say.

“What the hell is this?” Cathy laughs as she peeks inside and plucks out the TerrorFest entry form. “Oh, my God. A horror movie? You can’t be serious. You guys are such morons.”

“Yeah, well, for your information, that movie is what’s going to save me from having to share a bedroom with you.”

It takes about a second for me to realize what I’ve just said. Damn it. Why can’t my stupid brain work faster?

“Oh, really?” Cathy crooks an eyebrow. “Do tell.”

“Forget it.” I make another try for the folder.

Cathy just smacks my forehead with it. “Hello, turdling? This concerns me as much as you, so spit it out.” As she pulls back the folder, ten fifty-dollar bills — the first installment of Uncle Doug’s investment — slide out and flutter to the floor.

I dive to the ground and snag most of the bills but Cathy’s witch-boot-clad foot pins two of them to the rug before I can get there. I pinch the corners to try to free them, but my sister bears down with her full weight. If I tug any harder, they’ll just rip. Checkmate.

“My, oh my.” Cathy squats and plucks up the money. “This is getting interesting.”

“That’s my money!” I seize Cathy’s wrist, but she just raises her arm like the Statue of Liberty, leaving me dangling on her limb like the “Hang in There!” kitty.

“You might as well just give it up, weasel,” she says, peeling me off her arm. “Save yourself the heartache and tell me where you got all this cash.”

“It’s mine. I saved it up.”

“Please.” Cathy pulls a face. “You’ve never saved a penny of your allowance, ever. Spill it. Where’d you get this?” She waves the hundred dollars in my face. “Did you steal it?”

“No, I didn’t steal it.”

“Are you turning tricks? Now, that’d be cool. Having a gay gigolo in the family.”

“We raised the money. From investors. We’re using it to make our movie. Satisfied?”

Cathy stares at me dubiously. “Somebody gave you hundreds of dollars to make a movie? You and your idiot friends?”

“Try a thousand. Once we get our second installment.”

Ah, shit! Again with the slow brain! I sniff my palm and try to keep from hyperventilating.

“A grand? Someone gave you a grand to make a movie?” Her tone drips with disbelief. “Why would anyone be stupid enough to do that?”

“Because they believe in us!” My voice croaks with earnestness and I can feel my ears reddening. “Look, this is our Get Out of Jail Free card, Cath. When our movie wins TerrorFest, we’ll have enough cash to build an extension on the house, okay? And then you and me won’t have to share a room.”

Cathy screams with laughter. “Oh, sweetie. That is so cute. But as your older sister — and future landlord — I feel it’s my responsibility to protect your fragile little ego by letting you know that there’s not a chance in hell you are going to be able to make a movie good enough to win any contest. But”— she plucks one of the fifty-dollar bills from her hand and starts folding it up —“since you’re suddenly so flush, I will do you the favor of taking your first and last months’ rent in advance.” Cathy flicks the other fifty-dollar bill at my face.