Page 110 of Cookout Carnage
Now Axle and Fender were standing behind her father. Tris frowned when he saw Axle.
‘Not my daughter?’ screamed Ford. ‘Axle, go git the shotgun. Don’t care which one.’ He reached for Wiener and tried to pull him out of Tristan’s arms. They struggled until Fender stepped forward and pushed them both apart.
‘Sherri-Lynne. What’s going on?’ Fender’s tone was soft but arresting. Everyone fell quiet. She couldn’t speak. Her mouth was open, but nothing was coming out. Tears ran in rivers down her cheeks.
Her father took a breath. ‘I’ll tell you—’
‘Ford! Enough!’ Her mother stepped up to Tristan. ‘Young man. My name is Lynne Bodean. This is my husband Ford, and these are our children: Fender, Axle and Sherri-Lynne. And that is Wiener, our family dog.’
His face went ashen as he looked at the members of her family, finishing on her. ‘Sherilyn?’ Wiener started whining. Her mother lifted him out of Tristan’s unresisting arms. ‘Sherilyn?’ he repeated, as if begging her to deny what her mother had said.
It may have been ninety degrees but Sherilyn was shaking like it was sub-zero.
‘I’m not Sherilyn. I’ve never been Sherilyn,’ she said in a rush. ‘Everything about me is a lie.’ She waved her arms. ‘All of this is a lie.’
He looked broken, as if all the life had been sucked out of him.
‘But it doesn’t matter, none of it matters.’
‘Why not?’ he whispered.
‘Because next month I’m leaving Chicago,’ she cried in despair. ‘I’m transferring to another office.’
‘Where?’
‘Guam.’
‘What?’ her father roared.
Her mother clutched her chest. ‘Sherri-Lynne!’
She couldn’t bear it anymore. She turned and ran.
34
TRISTAN: Anyone there?
SABRINA: Meeeeeeeee! How goes it?
TRISTAN: Not good.
SABRINA: Nooooooooooo!
SABRINA: What’s happened?
TRISTAN: …
SABRINA: You okay?
TRISTAN: …
TABI: Give him a chance to type, Bree!
TRISTAN: Tabi was right. I’ve been in some fucked-up version ofThe Truman Show.
SABRINA: WTF?
TABI: Knew it.
