“We’re only going to read books by men in English this year.” When there was no reaction, I added, “Whitemen.”
The room fell silent, all of us watching our mother.
“Addie and I are thinking of branching into musicals,” Van announced, picking up the baton. “From the greater Disney canon. Lots of princesses and uncomfortable shoes. Retrograde fantasies about marrying up. Magical domestic objects.”
“Is that so,” Mom murmured, aiming a forkful of broccoli in the general direction of her mouth. A second later, we heard the telltale rustle of a turning page.
Since Van had spoken for both the twins, as was her wont, Cam launched the next volley. “I broke my leg at practice.” She slid a glance at our mother, whose expression remained placid. “The bone is jutting out of my thigh.”
Dad tried to frown at us, though from the way his mouth squeezed in and out like an accordion it seemed he was having trouble mustering the necessary solemnity. He leaned as far sideways as the narrow-backed chair allowed a man of his girth. “What are you reading, dear?”
“Hmm?” Mom blinked at him, lifting the magazine from her lap and flipping it around so the rumpled cover faced us. “The newNew Yorkercame. I didn’t want to get behind.”
“That’s from 2007,” I pointed out.
Her lips pursed. “Must have been a good one.”
As if we ever got rid of any printed matter. No doubt she’d stumbled across the magazine on her way to dinner, fingers reaching for it without thought, like scratching an itch.
“So Mary, you were telling us about your first day of real high school,” Jasper drawled. My brother was like a dog with a bone when he had an agenda. Since I had no idea why he was pressing this particular issue, aside from an uncanny instinct for human weakness, I settled for giving him an all-purpose scowl.
“Is it the full teen movie experience?” he continued, unmoved. “Football and cheerleaders? Getting pumped for the big dance? People randomly breaking into song?”
“Honestly, Jasper,” our mother chided. “You’re rotting your brain with that tripe.”
“Give me some credit,” he said, waving his fork. Grains of rice scattered, and I mentally double-checked it wasn’t my night to clear the table. “I also play video games.”
“I always thought of high school as moreMacbeth,” mused Van, who liked to talk about that part of her life (two whole years ago) as though it were a sepia-toned photo in a dusty album. “Speaking of which, you’re still going to help with auditions next weekend, right, Mare-Bear? Not too busy with your new life?”
“Ha,” I said weakly. “Of course I’ll be there. But ... what do you mean about high school being likeMacbeth?”
“Spineless men, conniving women, political infighting, a creeping sense of dread—all that jazz,” Van replied with an airy flap of the hand.
Addie gave a delicate shudder then cast a worried look my way. “There were a lot of great things about it, too.”
“Millville High is an excellent school,” Dad observed, as though we’d been discussing its academic reputation. I slanted him a doubtful look, which he failed to notice. It would be a long time before I trusted my father’s opinions about high school again.
“And Mary’s so easygoing.” Addie sounded too chipper, overcompensating for her twin’s bluntness. “All that angst will be like water off a duck for you.”
I goggled at her. A swan would have been one thing. And what did that make everyone else? Humans, presumably, enjoying their complicated lives on dry land while I paddled in circles, quacking to myself. Maybe one of them would throw me a few crumbs. With a sinking feeling, I realized I must be the only member of the family who thought of me as a main character in her own story, as opposed to a background figure in the lives of more exciting Porter-Malcolms.
“It comes from being the middle child,” our mother opined, stroking the underside of her chin. “That’s why I wasn’t worried about Mary starting a new school.”
“But I’m not the middle child,” I said when no one else pointed out the fallacy of this argument. “Four is not the middle of five.”
Then again, perhaps tellingly, there wasn’t a name for my place in the pecking order. Penultimate? That was only marginally better thansecond-to-last.
“It’s a state of mind,” said my father. “You’ve always been even-keeled. Content to go along with the crowd.”
Jasper dabbed a few grains of salt from his plate before licking them off his finger. “She doesn’t seem that chill to me.”
“Of course she is,” Addie protested. Next to our dad, she was the family member most likely to smooth ruffled feathers, whereas Van more closely resembled our acerbic mother, and Cam and Jasper shared a certain unflappable cool. I was ... not quite in any of those camps.
“Not that you should feel tied down,” Mom said with the too-casual air of someone pretending not to tell you what to do. “People grow and change during adolescence, as they should. To be honest, I’m not sorry you’ve been pushed out of the nest. It was time for a challenge.”
“I thought she should have transferred last year.” Van stifled a yawn. “Broaden her horizons.”
“Mary doesn’t have to do things the same way we did,” Addie countered. “She made her own choice.”
