“Well, you were wrong.” Wren propped her head up on her hand. “Add that to the towering stack of important things you’re wrong about.”
“I think the Mage is going to kill Baz.” Cath hadn’t told anyone else that yet, not even her beta.
Wren sat up, her face actually aghast. “Cath,” she whispered, “no…”
“Did Alejandro break up with you?”
Wren shook her head. “No … he’s just upset. Cath. You can’t kill Baz.”
Cath couldn’t think of what to say.
Wren took the laptop and slid it mostly into her own lap. “Jesus Christ, consider this an intervention.…”
*
When Cath woke up the next morning, Sunday, she was alone in the bedroom. She could smell coffee. And food.
She went downstairs and found her dad sitting at the table with a notebook. She handed him his laptop. “Ah. Good,” he said. “Wren said we had to wait for you.”
“For what?”
“For my verdict. I’m about to go all King Solomon on your asses.”
“Who’s King Solomon?”
“It was your mother who wanted to raise you without religion.”
“She also thought you should raise us without a mother.”
“Solid point, my dear. Wren? Come on. Your sister’s awake.”
Wren walked into the dining room, holding a saucepan and a trivet. “You were asleep,” she said, setting it on the table, “so I made breakfast.”
“Oh, Christ,” their dad said. “Is that Gravioli?”
“No,” Wren said, “it’s new Cheese Gravioli.”
“Sit down,” he said. “We’re talking.” He was in running clothes again. He looked tense and nervous.
Wren sat down. She was acting playful, but she was nervous, too—Cath could tell by the way she was squeezing her fists. Cath wanted to reach out and unclench them.
“Okay,” their dad said, pushing the Gravioli away, so that it wasn’t right between them on the table. “Here are my terms: You can go back to school.” Wren and Cath both exhaled. “But you don’t drink. At all. Not in moderation, not with your boyfriend, not at parties—never. You see a counselor every week, starting this week, and you start attending AA meetings.”
“Dad,” Wren said. “I’m not an alcoholic.”
“Good. It’s not contagious. You’re going to meetings.”
“I’ll go with you,” Cath offered.
“I’m not done,” their dad said.
“What more do you want?” Wren whined. “Blood tests?”
“You come home every weekend.”
“Dad.”
“Or you can just move home. It’s your choice, really.”
“I have a life,” Wren said. “In Lincoln.”
“Don’t talk to me about your life, kid. You’ve shown complete disregard for your life.”
Wren’s hands were tight fists, lumps of coal, in her lap. Cath kicked her ankle. Wren’s head dropped. “Fine,” she said. “Fine.”
“Good,” their dad said, then took a deep breath and held on to it for a second. “I’ll drive you back later, if you think you’re ready.” He stood up and looked at the Gravioli. “I’m not eating that.”
Cath pulled the pan closer and picked up a spoon. “I’ll eat it.” She took a bite. The noodly parts dissolved immediately in her mouth. “I like how soft it is,” she said. “I like how I don’t have to use my teeth.”
Wren watched Cath for a few seconds, then took the spoon and scooped up a bite. “It tastes like regular Gravioli—”
Cath took it back. “But cheesier.”
“It’s three comfort foods in one,” Wren said.
“They’re like pizza pillows.”
“They’re like wet Cheetos.”
“That’s terrible,” Cath said. “We can’t use that.”
“I’m starting to feel like you don’t want me around.”
“I’ve never wanted you around,” Simon said, trying to push past his roommate.
“Point.” Baz moved to block the door. “That was true. Until you decided that you always wanted me around—that life is just a hollow shell of itself unless you know my heart is beating somewhere in the very local vicinity.”
“Have I decided that?”
“Maybe it was me who decided. Never mind. Same difference.”
Simon took a deep, obviously unnerved, breath.
“Snow. Are you unnerved?”
“Slightly.”
“Aleister almighty, I never thought I’d see the day.”
—from Carry On, Simon, posted February 2012 by FanFixx.net author Magicath
THIRTY-ONE
Alejandro was waiting for them when they got to Schramm Hall. He shook hands with Cath formally. “Frat boy manners,” Wren said, “they all have them.” Jandro was in a fraternity on East Campus, she said, called FarmHouse. “That’s actually its name.”