Call the Shots Read Online Free PDF Page A

rain or shine, it’s more than a little weird to see this kind of food on our table. Weirder still, this is the third time in five days that Mom’s prepared some kind of ginormous spread.
    “Okay, what the hell’s going on?” Cathy stares at the food on the table. “Are you guys getting a divorce, or what?” She plops herself down in her chair and ushers several of the curled-up dogs out from under the table with her stocking feet.
    “Don’t be rude,” Dad says, tucking his napkin into the collar of his sweater with one hand and scooping a pile of potatoes onto his plate with the other.
    “I’m not being rude,” Cathy says. “I’m just concerned about my pants size. I’ve gained, like, ten pounds in the last week.”
    Mom shrugs. “So I’ve relaxed my dietary restrictions a bit. Big deal. If you ever turned off your computer and exercised a little, maybe you wouldn’t be gaining so much.”
    “Is that so?” Cathy says, staring at Mom’s rounding belly. “Then what’s your excuse?”
    Dad points a serving spoon at her. “That’s enough out of you, young lady.”
    “What?” Cathy shrugs. “It’s not like I’m saying anything we all haven’t noticed. Right, Sean?”
    “I don’t . . . know.” I avert my eyes, not wanting to get involved.
    “Oh, come on. You
know.
Mom’s packed on a few lately. And she’s cooking like she expects Paula Deen to show up and join us for dinner. If Mom’s depressed or something, are we just supposed to ignore it?”
    “I’m not depressed,” Mom says, her eyes getting moist.
    “Just eat your food, Cathy,” Dad says.
    “I’m a vegetarian,” she announces, staring at her empty plate.
    “Oh, really?” Mom asks, snuffling back her tears. “Since when?”
    “Since right now. I just decided.”
    “Not me.” My mouth is watering as I serve myself some roast beef. “I love me some meat.”
    Cathy smirks. “So I’ve heard.”
    I glare at her. “I didn’t think vampires
could
be vegetarians.”
    “And I didn’t think little mama’s boys could think for themselves.”
    “That’ll be quite enough,” Dad says.
    “Ignore your sister, Sean.” Mom pats my hand. “She’s probably just having her period.”
    Cathy narrows her eyes. “Just because I don’t want to have a heart attack at eighteen doesn’t mean I’m PMSing.”
    “Look, if you don’t want to eat, don’t eat,” Mom snaps as she serves herself a puddle of creamed corn. “I’ll bring the leftovers down to the shelter, where I’m sure the starving homeless children would appreciate a nice home-cooked meal.”
    “Fine.” Cathy crosses her arms tightly across her chest. “Can I be excused then?”
    “No, you cannot.” Dad lowers his gaze at her. “You’re a vegetarian now, okay, fine. Potatoes, spinach, corn. Last I heard, those were all vegetables. And just a little factoid for you: there is no substantial proof that being a vegetarian prolongs a person’s life span.”
    My shoulders start to shake as I try to hold back my laughter.
    Cathy stares lasers at me, then angrily slings a spoonful of creamed spinach onto her plate with a wet
splat.
    We eat in uncomfortable silence until Mom makes a loud slurping sound with her straw as she attempts to get the last of her vanilla shake from the bottom of her glass.
    “Heaven,” she says, slapping her cup down on the table. “Shakes should be illegal. Or at least there should be a hefty fine. They’re just too good. I can’t believe I’ve denied myself for so many years.” She forces a smile. “So, what’s the latest and greatest? Who wants to share? Sean?”
    I shrug. “I don’t know. School starts tomorrow. Not looking forward to that.”
    Mom looks at me sideways. “Anything . . .
else
?”
    “Uh, no. Not that I can think of. Why?”
    Mom’s eyes slide to the side. “No reason. I just thought, you know . . . maybe there were some
other
things you might want to talk about. You know.
Other
things.”
    Oh, Christ. Here we