Going Bovine by Libba Bray

far corner eating a Buddha’s Bounty Hot Fudge Sundae. She’s all lit up from the afternoon sun. And she has wings. No, that’s … ohmygodyes! There they are—white, fluffy, big-assed wings tucked behind her back. No, dude, that can’t be right. People do not have wings.
    “Cameron?”
    “Huh?” I say, turning back to Mr. Babcock.
    “Take your things and leave now. Don’t forget to clock out.”
    Staci and crew form a little huddle. They make it seem like they’re trying not to laugh, but really, they’re enjoying the show. And when I turn back to look at the table in the far corner, it’s empty.
    CHAPTER SEVEN
    In Which I Am Subjected to the Slings and Arrows of Dinner with My Family
    “I thought maybe we could all go to Luigi’s for an early dinner tonight,” Dad announces. He makes these announcements periodically, the “let’s act like a family” edicts. For all I know, he may make them a lot, but it’s rare that we’re all gathered in the same place at the same time to hear them. We’re like electrons both attracting and repelling each other.
    “Sorry, Daddy. I can’t,” Jenna says. She bothers to sound apologetic. “I’m going to the movies with Chet and everybody.”
    “What time?” Dad asks.
    “Eight o’clock.”
    “It’s only five now. You could eat dinner with us and then go.”
    Jenna’s mouth falls open. “By myself? I can’t show up by myself. That’s lame. What if they’re late and I’m sitting there all alone looking like a loser, like …”
    Cameron, my loser brother.
    “Besides, Lisa and Tonya are picking me up at six. We’re meeting the guys for pizza first.”
    “Do you need money?” Mom asks.
    “Why?” I snap. “She doesn’t actually eat the food. I’m sure she’s got enough for a diet soda.”
    Jenna glares at me.
    “All right, settle down. Well, guess it’ll just be the three of us, then.”
    “I’m not hungry,” I say.
    “Would it kill you to spend a little time with your family, Cameron?”
    I don’t know. Would it kill you to stop doing the nasty with your TA? Why don’t you admit that’s the real reason for this sudden family powwow? You’ve been home late every night for a month. Is Raina on vacation?
    I could say this out loud, but I don’t.
    “I’m really behind on my reading for Spanglish. That Don Quixote is one funny guy. Wouldn’t want to miss a minute of it.”
    “You’re reading Don Quixote?” Mom asks. “Did you know Cervantes is considered the first modern novelist?”
    “No. Wow. Well. I better hop to.” I disappear upstairs but I can still hear them in the kitchen arguing.
    “So, do you want to go to Luigi’s?” Dad asks, sounding irritated.
    “Oh, I don’t care,” Mom answers.
    “We could get sushi.”
    “That would be fine. I could just order a salad.”
    “Mary, if you don’t want to eat sushi, just say so.”
    “No, no, that’s fine. You know me. I hate to make decisions.”
    I know how their evening will go. It’s like a rerun of a show you’ve seen a million times. They’ll end up going to Luigi’s, where they always go, where Dad can hold court and be the big man and Mom can have a hard time deciding what to order until Dad finally orders something for her that she’ll hate and pick at and make him mad. He’ll mutter something about how if she doesn’t like it she doesn’t have to eat it and she’ll make a big show of taking a bite and saying no, no, it’s good, she’s just not all that hungry after all. They’ll exhaust their topics of conversation—his work, her work, us kids—before the appetizers come and spend the rest of the meal in silence, looking for other people they know who could come over and rescue them from each other.
    Yeah. Think I’ll be skipping this one, thanks. But apparently, Dad has other ideas. He knocks on my door as he opens it, a habit I find beyond annoying. Really, why bother knocking at all?
    “Cameron, get dressed. We’re all going to Luigi’s for