Free Bruiser by Neal Shusterman

everything you believe about the nature of the universe is wrong? Most people don’t realize how terrifying that is until their world is the one being threatened.
    My world always revolved around our nuclear family. Mom, Dad, Tennyson, and me. It was an atom that might ionize once in a while, erratically spewing electrons here and there; but in spite of that, I always believed it was fundamentally stable. No one expects nuclear fission within the loving bonds of one’s own family.
    My blinders didn’t allow me to see it coming.

19) GASTRONOMY
    I promised Tennyson I wouldn’t go to Brewster’s house, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t invite him to ours.
    It was Friday, and I was already cooking dinner when Mom came home from the university. I had told her and Dad that tonight was the night Brew was coming; but I still couldn’t take the chance that Mom would forget and have to order fast food, or worse, pull out frozen burritos and try to pass them off as homemade. So I skipped Friday’s swim practice and got dinner going myself, thank you very much.
    Sure enough, Mom’s mind was beyond elsewhere when she got home, so I had definitely made the right call. “Brewster will be coming at six,” I told her. “Just in time for dinner. Please, please , don’t bring out my baby pictures, or ask him about his philosophy of life the way you did with Max.”
    Mom nodded, then said, “I’m sorry, honey, what was that?” like she was somewhere in deep space, where sound waves couldn’t travel. It drove me crazy that I had to repeat myself, and I still don’t know whether she heard.
    If it weren’t for my blinders, I might have wondered about the bigger picture, but right then and there it was all about me.
    â€œPlease try to make him feel at home. Please try not to scare him away.”
    â€œDid your father call?” Mom asked with an emptiness in her voice that I misread as exhaustion.
    â€œI don’t know,” I told her. “I’ve been out buying groceries.”
    Tennyson arrived a bit later, all sweaty from lacrosse.
    â€œShower!” I ordered. “Brewster’s coming over for dinner.”
    He looked worried and said to me quietly, “I don’t think this is a good night.”
    â€œWhen is it ever?”
    â€œNo,” he said just as quietly. “There’s something wrong. Something going on. I could tell this morning at breakfast; didn’t you notice the way Mom and Dad were?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œIt’s like…it’s like someone died and they haven’t told us yet. Anyway, whatever it is—”
    â€œWhatever it is,” I said stridently, “it’s going to have to wait until after dinner. I’ve been planning this for a week, dinner is in the oven, and it’s too late to call it off.”
    He gave no further argument and went off to shower.
    When Dad came home, he opened a bottle of wine, which wasn’t unusual. He’d usually have a glass as he watched the news, and maybe one with dinner if the wine was one that complemented the meal—but never more than that. Tonight he guzzled the first glass with the wine bottle still in his hand and poured a second. I thought about what Tennyson had said but decided that whatever was wrong, a hearty, home-cooked meal would soothe it.
    â€œDad, save the second glass for dinner,” I told him. “Merlot goes well with what I’m making.”
    â€œYou?”
    â€œYes, me. Brewster’s coming for dinner, remember?”
    â€œOh. Right.”
    Brewster arrived just as I finished setting the table. “Am I too early?” he asked.
    â€œRight on time,” I told him. “You look great.” He was dressed in slacks and a button-down shirt that was a little bit small on him; but that was his own personal style, and I’d come to appreciate it. His wavy hair was so well-groomed, he was