I’ve turned it into
a storage closet.”
“You—you what?”
“That’s right.” She walked across the hall.
She threw open the guest room door. “Ta-da!”
No. Oh, no.
It can’t be. Not that.
“Happy Birthday, Matt!” Mom shouted. “Welcome to your new room!”
“Uh… uh… uh…” I couldn’t say a word.
My bed, my dresser, all my posters and books—they were all set up in the
guest room.
“Matt? What’s the matter?” Mom cried. “This is what you said you wanted!”
My mouth fell open. I started to scream.
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Legs McNeil, Jennifer Osborne, Peter Pavia