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knowing me for an hour.”
    “The second half’s pretty simple.” He laughs honestly, and I realize that’s the main thing I like about him. Everyone’s so afraid to show off how they’re really feeling because they’re afraid of coming off as too fake or too emotional, but not Rhett. When he’s happy, he smiles. I imagine when he’s sad, he lets himself cry. And that fact is more beautiful on him than any other quality. “I’m willing to pretend to be your boyfriend because you are quirky and kind of sexy in a really alternative young Julia Roberts sort of way and also you are aware of obscure comic book history, which is a good quality for any pretend girlfriend to have. The first question is significantly more complicated and should probably be left for our second pretend date.”
    “Come on ,” I protest lightly. “I bared my soul. Your turn. Only fair.”
    Before he can speak, my mother takes the stage in a pale pink, form fitting dress which exactly matches the balloons and table runners and stage. Michael’s next to her sporting imported Italian leather shoes and a Manhattan suit, the two things he’ll bring up in a conversation if you let him speak too long. They appear to be modeling for MTV’s newest show, Barbie and Ken: the later years.
    This would be as good a time as any to give you a look at Michael, I suppose. He’s got dark, thick brown hair which he gets treated so it doesn’t thin. He’s very skinny and probably used to be muscular or athletic but is now a bit squishy around the edges. Michael’s face is permanently dressed in an overly nice smile, perfectly tweaked with years of practice to hide the burgeoning wrinkles on his forehead. Next to my once effortlessly beautiful mother who’s now nipped and tucked in all the wrong places, he almost fits. I can’t even imagine how ridiculous it would be if he ever met my real dad, with his long sandy hair and the facial hair he was perpetually experimenting with. The universe would explode.
    And Michael speaks first, one arm protectively wrapped around my mother. “Firstly, we’d like to thank each and every one of you for coming out tonight in support of Veronica and myself.”
    Rhett corrects his usage of the word myself under his breath. “He never used an antecedent.”
    I snort and he shoots me a sideways glance.
    “Second, I would like to take this minute of your time to explain why we’re gathered here on this joyous occasion.”
    I lock eyes with Rhett the second someone claps a hand on my shoulder. I turn around to see Trent grimacing down at me, wearing one of Michael’s nice suits with his floppy hair combed. “Don’t freak out, okay?”
    Of course, now I’m freaked out. But I stare up at him and ask, “Why would I freak out?”
    Instead of replying like a normal, functional human being, my big bro tosses an arm around my shoulders, though I get the sense he’s trying to restrain me. Rhett shoves his hands into his pockets and eyes the pair of us nervously, as unsure as I am now.
    Michael, drawing my attention back on stage, has resumed talking. “As I’m sure many of you know, Veronica’s been having fertility treatments over the past few years and-”
    No .
    “-we’re so happy to announce-”
    NO.
    “-that we’re about to be new parents again!”
    “No!”
    The word is out before I can stop it and it’s a shriek of defiance. Everyone else is clapping and grinning with happiness, but mom hears me. Her eyes rip away from her happy husband and fall on me. Her beam turns to a cold frown with everything – seeing my hair and my clothes and hearing my shout for the first time. Immediately, she rushes to take care of her deviant child but Michael stops her.
    “Stay calm.” Trent’s talking in my ear, saying nothing that matters and trying to hold me back from running out. But I can’t. I can’t. I can’t I can’t I can’t I can’tIcan’tIcan’t.
    Without thinking of anything but getting out and away