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forehead. "Your father was all about parties.
    That's why he was foolish enough to ingest a magnum of champagne and then go joy
    riding into the back of a garbage truck with your stepmother."

    Hey, they needed a break from all the selfless charity work. I paused, gauged what I was
    thinking, and then shelved it. Nope. Too soon for jokes. They'd only been in their graves
    for half an hour. Maybe by tomorrow . . .

    "How are you holding up, dear?"

    "Like you care!"

    She scowled at me, and I almost giggled. Hadn't I seen that scowl enough times in my
    own mirror? But I remained a stone. "You've had a difficult day . . ."

    "And you'd know this how?"

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    "But my day hasn't exactly been a day at the zoo, either. So answer my question, young
    lady, or you'll find you're not too big to spank." This was laughable, since I could break
    my mom's arm by breathing on it.

    "Well?"

    "I forgot the question," I admitted.

    "How was the funeral?"

    "Besides my entire support system, present company included, abandoning me in my most
    dire time of need?"

    "I think your death was your most dire time of need," she corrected me. "And the only
    ones who abandoned you then are underground now."

    This was true, but I was in no mood for logic. "And you didn't even say good-bye. I know
    you didn't like them, but Jesus!"

    And why were we screaming at each other in the foyer? Maybe I was still too mad to
    make nicey-nice hostess, even to Mom, whom I usually adored. How amid I not adore
    someone who welcomed her daughter back from the dead with open arms? "Someone had
    to watch your son," she replied sharply. "And it's not as though you have no friends.
    Whereis everybody, anyway?" "The question of the day," I muttered. No way was I telling her Sinclair and I were fighting—she liked him, if possible, more than she liked me. And
    she'd worry herself sick about Jessica. And she didn't know Marc or Laura that well, or
    the others at all.

    Create PDF files without this message by purchasing novaPDF printer ( http://www.novapdf.com ) Then the full impact of her words hit me like a hammer upside the head. "Someone had to
    watch my what?”

    “ Jon.”

    "What?"

    She pointed at my half brother, as if I'd forgotten I was holding him in my arms. In fact, I
    had. "Your son. The reading of the will? Yesterday? Remember?"

    "You know full well I wasn't there. My nails were ,1 mess, and it's not like the Ant was
    going to let Dad leave me a damned thing. So I gave myself a manicure in Wine Cordial."

    My mother sighed, the way she used to sigh when I told her my middle school term
    project was due later in the morning, and I hadn't even started yet. "In the event of their
    deaths, you're his legal guardian. They're dead. So guess what?"

    "But—but—" Babyjon cooed and wriggled and looked far too happy with the
    circumstances. I couldn't decide whether to be thrilled or appalled. I settled on appalled.
    "But I didn't want a baby likethis ."

    "Like what?"

    "Like—you know. Via the vehicle of death."

    Mom frowned. "What was that again?"

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    "I mean, I wanted my own baby. Mine and Sinclair's baby."

    "Well, you've got this one," she said, completely unmoved by my panic.

    "But—"

    "And you certainly have the means to bring him up properly."

    "But—"

    "Although I wonder . . . will he get his days and nights confused, living with you two as
    parents?"

    "That's the burning question on your mind? Because I can think of a few dozen other
    slightly more pressing ones!"

    "Dear, don't scream. My hearing is fine."

    "I'm not ready!"

    "You're still screaming. And no one ever is, dear." She coughed. "Take it from me."

    "I can't do it!"

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    "We all say that in the