Free B Negative by Vicki Grant Page A

the mortgage on the house Anthony hangs around in all day. How convenient.
    Mom pays the other expenses by working as a receptionist at Child Welfare International. It’s a nonprofit organization so they don’t pay much, but it’s something. (So much for her acting career. She, at least, had enough pride to go out and get a real job when the bills started piling up.)
    I only get a couple of shifts a week at the hardware store, but I pitch in what I can too.
    I look across the table at Tara. I thought I was doing a pretty good job of faking nice, but I clearly haven’t fooled her. I guess after three years with me she knows what’s going through my head. She dips a French fry in ketchup and puts it in her mouth. She’s looking at me the whole time. Her eyes are telling me to calm down.
    Anthony drops his hand onto his thigh with a big slap. He leans back in his chair and stretches his legs out in front of him. It’s only June and they’re already seriously tanned.
    â€œSo, Paddy, what’ll it be? There are lots of great music colleges who’d be lucky to have you, you know. Or perhaps you’d rather just take the band on the road. Given any thought to that? The year I spent touring Grease with the Colchester County Musical Theater Society was perhaps the most interesting—and exciting—period of my…”
    I can’t listen to this again. He’s crazy. He wants me to go to music college now? Who’s going to pay for that? Not Anthony, that’s for sure. He’s just assuming Dad will foot the bill.
    As for his other suggestion— please. Go on the road? Like our lame band would make any money that way. Anthony might have trouble understanding this, but being able to support myself actually matters to me.
    I’d love to bring that up right now but I can’t. It would get too ugly. I stop chewing and clamp down on the meat in my mouth. It’s like biting a bullet to take your mind off the pain. The smear of ketchup on my plate makes me think of blood. I stare at it and try to blank Anthony out. Tara drops her fork. The noise makes me look up. It wasn’t an accident. She says, “Sorry. Clumsy me!” but she’s got that look in her eyes again. I don’t know if I see her shake her head or I just sense it. She picks up her fork and makes a big point of sawing off a piece of meat. Steak , she’s reminding me. Your mother paid a lot of money for it. Ignore Anthony. Don’t ruin this for her.
    Fine. I start chewing really loud like I’m some cartoon slob. Tara’s eyes go all shiny and she has to bite her lip to stop from smiling. I put a big grin on my face and say, “Mmmm. You’re some cook, Mom. This is delicious.”
    â€œAw, thanks, honey,” she says. I can see how happy that makes her. Never hurts to keep the ladies happy.
    I look around the table.
    Olivia is drawing something on her plate in ketchup. She loves to draw.
    Marlon is standing beside Mom with his hands on her face, begging to stay up to watch Power Ponies tonight. Mom’s shushing him but she’s laughing too. She knows she’s going to give in.
    Everyone’s enjoying themselves. Life is good—even if Anthony has started yammering on again about my “brilliant future.”
    Tara’s right. The guy’s a douche bag, but pointing that out would only upset the non-douche-bag members of my family.
    I wink at her. She stabs at her salad and puts a giant piece of lettuce in her mouth. She gets bright orange dressing all over her chin. “Aw. Gross,” I say. People forget about Anthony for a second and look at Tara. Everyone laughs.
    You’d think Anthony would take this opportunity to shut up—but no such luck.
    â€œSeriously, Paddy,” he says. “High school’s behind you. You can do anything you want with your life now. So what’ll it be? Music college or the tour?”
    I try to