Call the Shots (Swim the Fly #3)(72)

“Whatever.” I look around at the near-empty space that used to be my room. “I don’t care about your stupid study.” I glare at Mom’s swelling stomach. “Or the dumb baby.”

Mom tilts her head, acting all sympathetic. “Look, hon. We know how hard this is —”

“No.” I shift my glare from Mom to Dad to Mom. I hate them both so much right now. It’s just like Cathy said: it’s all baby, baby, baby. “You have no clue how hard it is. If you did, you wouldn’t be making me do this. I know you think this baby’s some kind of miracle. But for me it’s a curse. You’ve cursed my life.”

“Sean!” Mom gasps, her eyes starting to leak. “That was uncalled for.” She sniffles as she takes another bite of her Ding Dong. “So much for gay sons being more kind to their mothers.”

“What?” I screech. “You can’t be serious! How many times do I —?”

“Look, mister.” Dad levels his gaze at me. “We didn’t just spring this move on you, okay? We told you it was going to happen weeks ago. You’re not the only one having to make sacrifices here. The whole family is pitching in. Because that’s what families do. They work as a team. And if you expect us to be accepting of who you are, then we expect the same courtesy.”

“Oh, my God!” I throw my head back. “How did this get turned into a conversation about me being gay? I’m not gay. You don’t have to accept anything! We’re talking about you making me move out of my room.”

“You mean the ‘curse’s’ room.” Mom is now full-on sobbing. She takes a Kleenex from the pocket of her paisley maternity dress and blows her nose. “I’m sorry. I can’t deal with this.”

Mom turns and waddles off down the hall.

Dad glowers at me. “I hope you’re happy, mister. Now I’m going to have to spend the next hour talking her down from this.” He glances over his shoulder at the bedroom. “Finish moving your stuff and then you can come downstairs and apologize.”

And with that, Dad goes after Mom, leaving me standing there alone.

I take a closer look around the room. There’s an indentation in the carpet where my bed used to be. My books are gone from the bookcase. The closet door is open, a row of empty hangers on the rod.

My throat tightens and my eyes start to tear up again. A miserable ache settles in the center of my chest. I can’t believe this is actually happening. A thousand different memories of my room flicker in my head. Hanging out with my friends, listening to music, reading my books in bed, sneaking out the window onto the roof, practicing my lightsaber moves.

Everything I’ve ever done in my life is somehow connected to this place.

I wipe the tears from the corners of my eyes. Damn it. I knew it was going to suck having to move into Cathy’s room. I just didn’t realize how much I was going to miss my own.

A little while later, I slog into Cathy’s bedroom, carrying my replica swords wrapped carefully in the brown Jedi cloak I wore for Halloween a few years ago — and for a few imagined lightsaber battles after that.

My parents have split the place in two, stringing a heavy curtain down the middle and rearranging things so that my bed is positioned on one side, with my Lord of the Rings poster hung on the wall and all my Star Wars books arranged in a tall bookcase. It’s like they’ve shrunk down my old bedroom and tucked it into the corner of this one.

I flop on my bed, my anger at this sucky situation still boiling over. I can’t believe how a day that was turning out so well could just spin on a dime and end up being so miserable. It’s an about-face that would even make Evelyn proud.





INT. HOUSE ATTIC — NIGHT


Rogart and Nashira are huddled close under a blanket. SCREAMS can be heard outside.


NASHIRA



Shouldn’t we go try to help those people?




ROGART



We can’t help them. It’s too late. If we go out there, the vampanzees will eat us just like they’re eating them.




NASHIRA



Are we just supposed to hide forever?




ROGART



I don’t know what else to do.




Nashira pulls a cross necklace out from under her shirt.


NASHIRA



You know what this is, Rogart?




ROGART



It’s a cross. They don’t work against these monsters. Believe me, I’ve tried.




NASHIRA



I know. This cross was Grandma’s. She gave it to me before she died. She said it symbolized a crossroads. Life is filled with them, brother. We have to make a choice here. We either run and hide, maybe live for a few more days. Or we fight these things and maybe save the human race. What’s it gonna be, Rogart?




Cathy stomps into our bedroom without saying a word to me, slams the door behind her — like she’s been doing the entire last week — then goes to her side of the room behind the heavy curtain, turns on Joy Division at full volume, and opens the window to let in the cold air. These are her battle tactics, meant to torment me till I move out of the house and in with one of my friends.