I finally finished this chapter. Sorry, I haven't updated recently. Between being too inconveniently sick; too absurdly busy; and too damn lazy to write anything, this took a while. It's a pretty long chapter at least.

Two things:

1. Ashley's "plan" (you'll know it when you see it) comes from something I saw on the news a long time ago about how some lady fought off an intruder

2. Have you heard of Westboro Baptist Church? They're the wackos I'm talking about towards the end of the chapter. I suggest you see the interview their attorney did with Chris Wallace. I suppose Voltaire was right when he said "I do not agree with a word you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it." Still, some people...

Anyways, read on.

The In-Laws

Spencer hasn't come back to our house for the last couple of weeks. She and Kyla have been working on a project together, but she has insisted that all outside work be done at the Carlin residence. I think she's trying to avoid Waldo, Aiden, and Ben, but I wonder if maybe I said something I shouldn't have. What if I bored her two death the other night, and she just doesn't want to deal with me anymore?

For the first time, I actually listen to Kyla talk about her crush, hoping to learn anything about her. She likes Cookies 'n Cream ice cream; her favorite color is purple; she wishes the leaves would change color in autumn; why doesn't anyone care about the fate of Lonesome George the tortoise? (Having no idea what Lonesome George is and Kyla being too... outrageous to understand, I was forced ask Talise, who directed me to one of her many, many books. Apparently, Lonesome George is the last surviving member of his particular subspecies of Galapagos Island Tortoise.)

At school, the vultures are no longer as vicious as they are in the beginning of the year and leave me alone during lunch. As usual, a couple of people invite me to sit with them, and as usual, I decline. The thing is, all these people offer out of pity and have nothing in common with me. If I accept, I'll sit there awkwardly for a few days and spend the rest of the year trying to avoid them. There's nothing to gain from listening to a bunch of kids complain while eating lunch. I always feel like a tick. It's more convenient to eat alone.

One day, as I walk through the living room, I hear Kyla half-crying as she tells our mother something.

"-and her mother is horrible. There was something on the news about a kid's suicide because they bullied him for being gay, and she just said that he got what was coming to him." I pick up my pace and scamper into the kitchen before either of the two notice me, but not before hearing, "If her mother's like this, what will Spencer think if she finds out I like her." The last statement confuses me because I already told Spencer that Kyla is bisexual. Is she just pretending she doesn't know, or was I somehow unclear?

Intrigued, I wait near the living room door to hear more.

"Most people have stereotypes about things they have no experience with," Christine soothes. "Chances are she'll learn to accept it if she really meets someone who's gay and gets to know them."

"But she won't associate with anyone who is gay. How do I tell Spencer that I'm gay, let alone that I like her? What if she's like her mother?"

"What did Spencer say about the kid's suicide?"

"She didn't say anything."

"Well," Christine ponders, "what about this? Let's invite the Carlins over for dinner, and I'll mention something casually about your sexuality and see how they take it."

"Really? You'd do that for me?" Kyla's voice is full of adoration.

"I'd do anything for you, sweetie," my mother croons. Gagging a little, I leave them to their mother-daughter moment.

Soon, it's Friday evening. Spencer and her family are coming for dinner. My mother is reassuring everyone that everything will be fine and insisting that we all calm down. She, of course, is busy picking out the wine while the rest of the house scrambles around, making sure everything is perfect.

If it's not perfect, we'll be hearing about it for the rest of the month.

Joe is organizing the living room. In other words, he's shoving his papers into a box and throwing out his beer cans. None of which should take over an hour to do, but he's probably got the TV on so we can't expect too much usefulness from him.

"No, Ben!" Kyla shrieks. "Spencer hates Pepsi. Put that away!"

"It's just my Pepsi. Get a grip, Kyla."

"Are you implying..." With the ease of far too much practice, I tune out the bickering twins and focus on table setting.

"Ashley," my mother reprimands coolly, a bottle of wine in each hand. What now? "Those glasses should be turned upside down so dust doesn't settle in them." Biting back a wave of bitterness, I start flipping them. "And make sure the forks are on the right." I put the forks on the right with exaggerated deliberation. "Also those placemats don't match the tablecloths. Switch them out for the red ones."

"You handed me those placemats right before you went downstairs," I say rigidly.

"Well, I didn't know that we had this tablecloth on. Don't be difficult. It's just the placemats. It's not like you have to walk ten miles." Having imparted her sage advice, Christine finally turns to leave. "And Ashley," I stare blankly at her. "Some of those plates seem chipped. Use the new set."

Somehow, I manage not to scream.

When the doorbell rings, Kyla and Ben shoot up out of nowhere and race for the door. Christine follows sedately, emanating regal elegance. Aiden runs his fingers through his hair and is nearly trampled over by Waldo who smells like— shaving cream? Talise gives the sigh of the damned. Joe realizes that he has to shower and plods as quickly as he can upstairs.

I have no idea what to do. Does one night make us friends for life? How am I supposed to greet her? By the time I shuffle into the foyer, the Carlins are all inside and while almost everyone is wearing their it's-nice-to-meet-you smiles, Talise is scowling. I follow her glare to a blond boy.

In fact, the blond boy. The lotion blond boy.

Who happens to be Spencer's brother Glen Carlin.

Fantastic.

"We'll all have such a wonderful evening together," my mother assures us.

Spencer spots me before I can mutter something along the lines of "yeah right" under my breath. I smile, and she waves. Out of nowhere, Kyla's all over her and trying to take everybody's coat. Ben looks ridiculous trying to help people take off their shoes. Meanwhile, Aiden calmly approaches Mr. and Mrs. Carlin and respectfully shakes their hands.

"Let's all move to the dining room, shall we?" Christine suggests.

Kyla basically drags Spencer into the dining room.

"I have to use the bathroom," Spencer half-shouts and darts off to safety.

In the meantime, Kyla and Ben begin running around the dining room, trying to block any chance of Spencer sitting with the other person while shoving the rest of us out of the chairs we are about to sit in.

"Kyla, Benjamin!" Christine chides in her stern mother voice. "Please allow the Carlins to take their seats and stop galloping around."

Demurely, the two take their seats opposite each other, next to Christine and Joe. There's no way I'm going to sit near Kyla and Ben tonight. They'll spend the entire night kicking each other (and anyone else caught in the crossfire) underneath the table.

Talise seems distracted, forehead creased and jaw set, so I jab her with my elbow and lift my eyebrows. Well, what are you waiting for?

Startled out of thought, she blinks a few times before realizing the situation. Are you going to sit down or what? She gestures toward the chair next to Kyla.

I nod emphatically at the seat. You're closer to it. Sit down already.

Christine coughs meaningfully. With a sigh and a eye roll, Talise plops down next to Kyla who chooses that moment to screech at Ben and right into Talise's ear. Talise springs up like a jack-in-the-box.

I hate you. She glares at me.

I grin back. I'm aware.

Spencer chooses that moment to sit down in the empty chair next to me. Before, I can even say hi, Aiden (sitting across from me) is asking her about her day. The dinner passes quickly. I keep my head down and eat. Conversation buzzes around me, and Talise continually hisses under her breath.

"How were your classes, Aid?" Joe asks his son.

"Pretty good. One guy walked into the wrong classroom today. It was hilarious."

"How about you, Talise?"

"Fine," she replies without looking up.

"Did anything interesting happen?"

"Not really." She lies. I'm pretty sure that having a professor spontaneously vomit during an exam counts as interesting.

"Did you do anything?"

"I went to class, came back wrote a rough draft to an essay, and got ready for dinner."

"So, nothing happened?"

Talise finally looks at him. "Seriously, if anything happened don't you think I would have told you by now?"

"I just wanted to make sure," Joe says a little defensively. To my surprise, he might actually be hurt. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Spencer watching the two interact with curiosity.

After dinner, the parents sit in the living room drinking wine, while the rest of us are on the deck, by the pool. It's a little late for swimming so we all just hang around. Kyla and Ben assault Spencer with questions, and soon, I'm bored. I meander back inside for some water.

"Hey, what's-your-name, where's the bathroom?" It's Glen Carlin. I ignore him. "Come on, I'm just asking you a question." This guy has really thick skin. "Can you even talk?" I just wait for the water to fill up in my cup which irritates him. "I'm talking to you!" he snaps. Next thing I know, he's basically crushing my arm. He must be one of those people who just can't stand being ignored. No wonder he gets along so well with Madison. "Where's the fucking bathroom?" he shouts in my face. "Are-"

"The bathroom is down the hall on your right though I'd prefer you don't fuck in it since Aiden has already left his mark rather indelibly on the vanity." Talise informs him.

"I wasn't asking you," he retorts.

"Your point is..."

"Shut up and mind your own business."

"I don't feel like it."

"Whatever," he says, throwing up his hands. "I could care less."

"The phrase is 'I couldn't care less.'"

"Whatever," he says again, storming off.

"Sentence variety," Talise calls after him. Her eyes narrow and her brows darken in thought.

"That was pleasant," I remark.

"What was?" Talise and I turn to see Spencer coming in from the deck.

"Your brother... is not," Talise tells her.

"What did he do now?" She asks, sounding exasperated.

Talise and I don't say anything.

Unsure what to make of our silence, Spencer lets it go. "What's new, Ashley?"

"Not much." We lapse into another silence. Valiantly, I find something to say. "Do you want to go back on the deck?"

"Umm... no?" She makes a face. "I just escaped from the... people that are out there."

"Well, we can go upstairs if you want."

"Anywhere, but out there," she says, relieved. I glance at Talise.

"I'm going to grab my book from outside. I might be up later though." With that, she departs.

"So, are you going to whisk me up to that space station you call a room or what?" Spencer tilts her head which tugs a smile onto my lips.

"Of course."

"Well then," she puts out her hand for me to take, "whisk away." Grinning almost idiotically, I grasp her fingers and pull her with me. By the time we enter the hallway, we're both giggling for no reason. Suddenly, Glen bursts out of the living room, his face bright rash red. He sprints for the deck, pushing roughly past us. "What the heck are you doing, Glen?" Spencer lets go of my hand to follow him.

We arrive at the deck in time to hear Glen screaming shrilly and pushing Talise into the water. When he jumps in after her, Aiden leaps to his feet. "What the fuck, dude?"

Kyla shrieks as the splashing water hits her hair.

"Glen!" Spencer yells. As far as I can tell he's trying to drown her or something. I start running towards the pool. I have to do something.

What exactly am I going to do?

Wildly, I look around for a weapon of some sort. Aiden dives into the water, and Kyla screams as even more water comes down on us. All his time in the gym counts for nothing. The water sucks the power out of Aiden's attack. While Talise is under him, Glen holds the best cards. Agitated and terrified, I jump in too. My eyes burn from the chlorine, but I keep them open long enough to find Glen's hands. Frantically, I scrabble at his fingers and try to pry them off. Something rocks the water and Spencer is there stabbing at him with a fork. It would have been a great idea if the fork wasn't plastic.

Between the exertion and fear, I need air badly. When my head starts to pound, I kick back towards the surface. Gasping, I'm struck by a horrible idea. It almost certainly would work, but... really? Desperate times call for desperate measures. Diving beneath the surface, I affix myself on his pants and undo the button. Thank god he's wearing boxers. I reach in and twist, squeeze, yank, and anything that might cause pain to his uh —part.

It works.

He screams and releases his hold on Talise. One of his hands grabs the edge of the pool, and he hangs there floating and cross-eyed. Aiden pulls Talise to the other side out of the water. He spent all summer getting certified as a life guard, and I've never been more appreciative of one of his girl-attracting schemes. By the time I stumble over there, Talise is breathing and blinking weakly.

"What the hell did you do to the guy?" Aiden asks his twin.

"I told him that the bathroom was in the living room," Talise pants. I didn't even notice her doing that, and I was right there. "Guess he really needed to use the bathroom or something." Aiden and I share a rare moment of camaraderie before breaking down into hysterical laughter. The idea of Glen walking into our carefully furnished living room, pulling his pants down in front of our parents has us more out of breath than the water.

"Oh my god, are you okay?" Kyla flaps over to us followed by Ben and Waldo.

From the other side of the pool, I hear Spencer berating at her brother. "What the heck were you doing, Glen?"

"Leave me alone," he snarls, trying to put his pants on.

"For Pete's sakes, you can't keep doing this, or I swear I'll tell Mom and Dad. Are you doing this because of Clay? Just because Clay died, and you're still not over it doesn't mean that you can go around trying to kill people." My ears perk up. Who's Clay?

"It's none of your business why I do what I do."

"YOU NEARLY KILLED SOMEONE, Glen," suddenly, I'm not the only one listening in on the conversation. "Don't you get it? This isn't just your problem anymore if other people are going to get hurt too." Her voice begins to crack. "What happened to you?"

We all make our way over to the Carlins. Spencer looks up at us. At this distance it's clear that some of the wetness on her face isn't from pool water. When Kyla tries to ask what's wrong, she runs away.

After a moment's hesitation, I run after her.

Passing by the bathroom, I have enough common sense to take a towel. Somehow, I find her in a room that barely recognize as part of our house. There are rooms in this house that I've probably never set foot in, and I think only part of that has to do with size of the house itself. Spencer is curled up on the cushioned window seat almost completely hidden by curtains. Her body quivers with sobs. Apprehensively, I reach out for her, but she brushes my hand away.

"Spencer..." I whisper. Reddened eyes graze mine for a moment before dropping back down. She tries to wipe them dry, but tears keep falling. An emptiness in my arms prompts me to wrap her up in them. Her tears soak my shirt which hardly matters since it's already wet. I sit on a cushioned window seat with Spencer Carlin pressed against me. My breath changes automatically to match her wrenching ones. Finally, she stops crying enough to shake herself free of me a little, though she's still leaning against me.

"I'm sorry about Glen and everything. Our entire family's been so messed up lately."

"My family is always messed up." I snort. "Your worst day is probably pretty good for us."

"I really doubt that."

"You really shouldn't."

"Oh, come on. No one in your family goes around drowning people. The worst thing that I can see is that Talise detests your father-"

I correct her. "Her father. Joe is my stepfather, and Talise doesn't hate him."

"Yeah right. She was essentially frying him with her eyes."

"Long day?" I offer.

Even so, Talise has been a little out of character today. They might not be best buddies, but she never just blows him off like that. Then, later with Glen. She hates conflict of any kind and usually just lets stuff go. My policy of silence comes from her. "Besides," I continue, shoving aside the puzzle for the moment, "you're just supporting the fact that my family is more dysfunctional than yours."

"Fine, prove it." With that challenge ringing in my ears, I embark on a story that I suspect Kyla, Ben and Waldo don't even fully understand. Here I am, telling a girl I've met only once before exactly why family is a glorified sham for me, who my father is, and why I'm already nineteen but still in my junior year. It's the blandest version that I can manage. I don't want her to think I'm complaining, so I stick to the bare facts. Still, lots of other information gets thrown in the mix.

"-which is why Talise and I are close, but I stay out of the others' way," I conclude. Then, I think of something. "Oh, and Joe probably was trying to talk Talise into med school again, so that's probably why she's irritated with him today.

"Wow. Way to overload on the information," she tells me wryly. Automatically, I tense up.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to-"

"Hey," she interrupts me gently and grabs my hand, "I'm just joking. I'm really glad that you trust me enough to tell me about all that." Relaxing, I smile. It feels weird, but she smiles back, and my lips twitch wider at the sight. A commotion from somewhere else in the house jolts us into a full sitting position. Someone must be shattering the windows if we can hear it from this crazy, out-of-the-way room.

"Should we find out what's happening?" I ask.

"If we have to."

She shifts, but snuggles closer to me instead of getting up. Too comfortable to pry now, I yawn and stretch before sinking deeper into the cushion. Another particularly loud eruption of noise causes Spencer to sit up.

"Sounds like my mother," she says warily. 'Let's see what's wrong."

We pad silently down shadowy hallways, vague screeching guiding us back.

It's chaos at the main part of the house. Spencer's mother resembles an ax murderer, and her father is hopelessly bewildered. Off to the side, Kyla is crying while Christine has her good (albeit slightly put out) hostess face on to the last and is trying to smooth things over. Joe indignantly huffs at the pandemonium and convinces himself that he looks authoritative with his arms folded across his chest. Glen and Talise are having an argument. With faintly more success than my mother, Aiden tries to stop the situation from deteriorating further. Waldo watches anxiously from the corner, and Ben does his best to appear suave and unconcerned.

"What's going on here?" Spencer demands.

Mrs. Carlin whips her head around and spots Spencer. "We are leaving right now," she declares righteously. What?

"What?" Spencer echoes my thought.

"You heard me. We're leaving. And why in the world are you so wet?" She narrows her eyes at me, as though I'm trying to give her daughter pneumonia. Then, she notices Glen. "And you, too Glen?"

"We were in the pool," Glen answers quickly.

No one contradicts him.

"Well, we-" Paula starts.

"Now, Paula," Spencer's father interjects soothingly, "are you sure that-"

"Of course I'm sure, Arthur! There is no way we are staying another moment in a house with a- a-homosexual who may be interested in my daughter." At that moment, I remember the reason behind this visit in the first place. Oh, Kyla. Paula grabs Spencer's arm. "Let's go-"

"You know how teenagers are. Sometimes it's better to just let them be." Typical Christine won't even defend her daughter if it means she might not remain popular and liked by everyone.

"Let them be? Let them be?" Paula shouts, enraged. "Your disgusting daughter is sinking into the depths of depravity and will probably end up roasting in hell, and your response is to let her be?"

"The bible does say..." and now Christine is going to betray Kyla and trample on her heart so that this lady won't make a scene in front of the neighbor or complain to the media or- or whatever else Christine's afraid of. It makes my blood boil, and I can't let Christine do that.

"The bi- bible is wrong," I tell them flatly, pretending I didn't stutter, and the entire hollering room swivels around to stare at me incredulously. Perhaps as much in shock of my mouth opening as much as of what I said.

"How dare you." Paula finally breaks the silence and stalks toward me. Her eyes seethe and she looks like she kind of wants to throttle me. Being more intelligent than your average housefly, I retreat several steps. "Who do you think you are? Are you one of misguided hippies who thinks that we can just accept homosexuality in our community without consequences?"

I'm beginning to wonder if Paula is one of those wackos who were protesting at soldiers' funerals. Nevertheless, I press on.

"You don't have the right to say a group of people is evil just like that. They haven't hurt anyone. How would you feel if you were gay-".

Crack!

My head snaps to the side, and my left cheek burns. Apparently, suggesting that Paula Carlin might hypothetically be gay was taking it too far.

"Mom! What the hell are you doing?" Spencer yells, jerking her mother back. "Has this whole family gone insane?" She looks at us, the Davies/Woods/Dennison family, for a response. Our wide-eyed and fearful stares answer with a resounding "yes".

"Don't swear, Spencer. We're leaving now." Evidently, she means it this time because she's dragging Spencer out the door with her. Spencer shoots me what I hope is an apologetic look as she's pulled out of the house. Glen and his father give little coughs and scurry after them. Almost immediately after the door closes, my mother turns on me.

"There is no reason to talk to a guest like that Ashl-"

"Don't," Talise interrupts curtly, proving that whatever mood she's in hasn't worn off yet.

"Excuse me?"

"Don't give Ashley a hard time for being the only member of this family with any guts."

Stunned by at Talise's rare case of raw hostility, Christine doesn't say anything more, and the dazed family dissolves into our separate lives again.

Tucked away in the attic, I tug on a T-shirt. On her bed, Talise has a book open, but her eyes don't travel swiftly across the page like they usually do.

"What exactly happened after me and Spencer disappeared?"

Talise looks up from where she'd been pretending to read her book.

"Spencer and I," Talise informs me. Rolling my eyes, I wait for her response. "Her mother came bursting outside and demanding that they leave. She nearly strangled Kyla —guess Glen's not the only Carlin with homicidal tendencies— and since we couldn't find you guys, she started storming around the house and tearing stuff up."

"Where's that crazy church?"

"What crazy church?"

"The one that went to all the funerals."

"The really annoying one with all the picket signs? Midwest, I think. Why?"

"Maybe it was Ohio."

Talise snickers. "It wouldn't be surprising." We share grin. "While we're filling each other in, what happened in the water earlier" Aiden said he didn't do much."

I shudder slightly. "You don't want to know."

Studying my no doubt puke-green face for a moment, she says, "I'll take your word for it."

"Is Joe giving you a hard time or something about med school or something because you seemed kind of off today?" I blurt out. I'd been meaning to ask for a while, but wasn't sure how to broach the topic.

"No, I was just feeling a little more disillusioned than usual." Her eyes return to watching the book.

Making a face, although nobody can see it, I work this through. "Well, shouldn't that be a good thing? It means you're seeing the real thing and not just a trick."

"Usually the 'illusion' in disillusionment is something that one wants to be true. It suggests a loss of innocence, naïveté, or faith in a valued belief." With her careful tones, she sounds like a textbook, and her eyes never wander from the page.

"Oh," I reply, not understanding at all. Wouldn't you want to know the truth? Then at least, you could deal with the problem. "So, are you feeling better now?"

"Yes," a pause, "not all discoveries were quite so dismaying."