You Could Be Home by Now by Tracy Manaster

furrowed pair of blond invisi-brows. “Can you draw?” he asked.
    â€œNot well.”
    â€œNo thank you then.”
    â€œI could try.”
    â€œMy mom can draw. She draws on her letters.”
    Gran and Ms. Rosko were having some kind of neighborly conversation of their own, but at the word mom Gran threw her a cautioning glance. Like Lily wouldn’t know that asking the and-where -is -your-mother question was only one step down on the rudeness scale from a truly thunderous bout of flatulence.
    Ms. Rosko was saying something about keeping the hot tub empty for showings, which had probably saved Ty’s life. She caught Lily listening. “Along with your quick thinking, of course.”
    Lily shook her head. “I’m sorry it’s in the papers. And about the HOA and all of that. It’s probably discrimination, them wanting you two to go. It might not even be legal. I had Civics last semester.”
    Ms. Rosko laughed again. A real laugh this time, from her gut.
    Ty laughed too, not wanting to be left out.
    Only Gran didn’t. That stupid proud grin on her stupid proud face. It was embarrassing. When Lily was old she was going to go the Rosko route, fearless and gray.
    â€œTruth is, I’m almost relieved,” Mona Rosko said. “At least it’s out there now.”
    â€œThat makes sense. Secrets aren’t any fun.”
    A pinched look. “You’re how old again?”
    â€œFifteen. Sixteen this October.”
    â€œFifteen. Huh. Well, enjoy it.”
    â€œI’m gay. I try to tell everyone right when I meet them. I don’t want to sit around wondering how they’ll act once they find out. So I guess I know a little bit about how it feels.” Lily, don’t do that, Mom always said. Wait till you get a read on folks. The world doesn’t work like Forest Park Day School. You can’t guess who might have a gun out in their truck. Poor Mom. But if it wasn’t this, it’d be something else. At least now she wasn’t up nights worried about Lily coming home pregnant.
    â€œYou’re gay.”
    â€œYup.”
    â€œWe’re very proud of Lily. She’s very courageous.” That was Gran. Pride in Lily seemed to be her go-to response to any given stimulus.
    â€œYou could say that,” Ms. Rosko said. And people did say it. Like Lily had done it in hopes of receiving a high school medal for valor.
    â€œWe’re very proud,” Gran repeated.
    â€œWell. What I do wonder is how she spotted him. I’m grateful, of course, but—”
    â€œI was up on Gran’s roof. Tanning.”
    Ms. Rosko made a face. Cue the melanoma’s-no-joking-matter talk.
    Instead: “Hmm. Unsupervised minor unattended on the roof. Maybe someone should sic a social worker on you .”
    â€œGran didn’t know, and I—”
    â€œJoking, joking,” said Ms. Rosko. The shape of her mouth said otherwise. “Besides, they only go after the guardians.”
    From his perch at the table, Ty perked up. He set down his spoon. “My mom is in the army.”
    â€œThat’s right, puffin.” Ms. Rosko’s posture softened briefly with her tone.
    â€œIs she abroad?” Lily asked, afraid of saying the wrong -ibad or -istan. Her Civics teacher said it was embarrassing how few Americans knew any kind of world geography.
    Ms. Rosko looked over at Ty. “Yes.”
    Gran said, “That’s hard.”
    â€œHer name is Carrie,” Ty said. “Carrie and she likes carrots.” He laughed because, yeah, to a little kid that would be funny. He hopped down from his chair.
    â€œAfghanistan?” Lily guessed. The capitol was Kabul. She’d only got a B+ on their world geography unit, but she was pretty sure she had that one right. Last year’s senior class had held a pencil drive for girls’ schools over there as their service project.
    â€œYeah,” said Tyson. “I can show