Jake will watch, with some
 
 sort of bent satisfaction.
 
 Hunter will cry, and I’ll bloat
 
 with guilt for not loving him better.
 
 By the time I reach the front
 
 door, I’ve built a barrier against
 
 all that. Don’t want to hear
 
 it. Refuse to hear it. All I want
 
 to do is lie on my bed, listen
 
 to music through headphones,
 
 think about being with Trey,
 
 dream about the semester break.
 
 Suddenly I feel angry. Out
 
 of-control pissed off at the world.
 
 I yank open the door, slam
 
 it shut behind me. Scott stomps
 
 in from the kitchen. What the hell
 
 was that about? Did you have
 
 a fight with your boyfriend?
 
 The last word drips vitriol.
 
 If you think you can disrespect
 
 my house in this way, you’d
 
 better think about living
 
 somewhere else. Understand?
 
 Obviously, they’ve been
 
 discussing options. Like
 
 kicking me out of here. Mom
 
 comes up behind Scott, carrying
 
 a smiling Hunter, and it comes
 
 to me that I have the means