Chapter 3

My brother looks at me, at Dan, back at me again, then leans close and asks in a loud whisper, “So what, you like it up the ass?”

“Raymond!” my mom snaps. Her knuckles have gone white where she grips her fork, and when she attacks the food on her plate, I get the distinct impression that she wishes it were me beneath her angry hand.

Only Caitlin doesn’t look impressed. “I knewyou were a fag,” she mutters, twirling one finger sardonically. “Jeez, where the hell have you people been?”

Before Mom can reply, Dad speaks up. “Caitlin,” he says, still staring at me like I’m going to spout the stock reports in a minute, “go to your room.”

“What’d I say?” she wants to know. She doesn’t move.