Girls That Growl by Mari Mancusi

on the forehead. "How was school?"
    I want to tell her about the football game. About my stu-pid English teacher who believes he's the greatest author since Shakespeare and forces us to sit and endure his poetry during class. And about a whole slew of other things that daughters share with their moms. But he's here. And I don't want him knowing anything about my life that he doesn't have to. He already knows too much—having looked into my file and all.
    "Fine," I say, going the one-word answer route.
    It doesn't matter anyway. Mom's already moved on to David, evidently feeling the one standard question satisfies her obligatory daughter-discussion requirement for the night. She walks up behind him and wraps her arms around his waist. He turns around, soup spoon in hand. She opens her mouth and he gives her a taste.
    "Mmm," she says. "Delicious." She stands on her tiptoes to kiss him on the mouth. So gross. I turn away.
    "You're a great cook, sweetie. Much better than I could ever be."
    "The neighbor's dog is a better cook than you'll ever be, Mom," I mutter.
    Mom's face falls and I feel bad for being snarky. She tries hard. And she's never had any help. And look at her—she's happy! With a great guy who cooks. Why can't I be okay with that? But I can't be. I'm just too annoyed.
    "Your mother is a fine cook," David scolds me. "And she works very hard. You guys should appreciate all she does for you."
    Now he's lecturing me about being nice to my mom. I can't stand it! I'm always nice to my mom. Okay, well, the neighbor's dog jab wasn't exactly a Mother Teresa moment, but really, I'm a good daughter with lots of respect for the Momster. He so needs to mind his own business.
    "Mom knows I appreciate her," I snarl. "And you're not my father."
    "No," David says under his breath so Mom can't hear. "If I were your father I'd be off in the high-stakes poker room in Vegas."
    That's it. I'm not going to take this from him. Not father cracks. Not when he should know how sensitive a subject that is with me. (If he'd read my file and all!) I start to lunge toward him, ready to attack. "You take that back!" I cry, shoving him in the chest. I catch him off balance and he falls back against the stove, making it look like my push was a lot harder than it really was.
    "Rayne!" my mom cries, horrified and furious. She jumps between the two of us before I can take another swing at him. "Stop it! Now! What's wrong with you?"
    David stares at me with cool eyes, as if daring me to keep going. I curl my hands into fists and take a deep breath, re-minding myself that in addition to being my mom's boyfriend he also works for Slayer Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
    Inc. How much power does he have over there, anyway? Could he tell Teifert about my outburst and get me nanoed?
    I look at my mom. She's sunk into a kitchen chair, head in her hands. Is she crying? God, that stupid David made her cry. He so deserves me to kick his ass.
    "You bastard!" I say, furious. "Look at what you've done! You made my mother cry."
    "I didn't," David says calmly. "You did."
    I look at my mom, waiting for her to defend me. To speak up and say that David should leave and that she'd made a big mistake asking him to live here. That she's very sorry she put me and Sunny through all this and wants us to be a girls-only family again.
    But Mom doesn't say any of this. And when David walks over to her and puts an arm around her shoulders she leans into him, sobbing against his chest. I stare at them, realizing I've been replaced.
    "Fine," I say, giving up. "I see how it is. I'm so out of here."
    I walk up to my room (sorry, make that Sunny's room) and start stuffing my clothes into garbage bags.
    First I'll go to England and then when I get back I'm going straight to the coven and moving in there. Or I'll hitch a ride to Vegas and shack up with Dad. Whatever. Just as long as I don't have to come home to Casa Unwelcome Rayne