Trapped by Laurie Halse Anderson Page B

pretend not to care.
    We stop by the carpentry shop to let Dad know that brunch will be ready soon. He’s sanding some long planks, but when he sees us, he turns off the noisy machine for a minute.
    â€œJayvee already informed me that we’re having waffles.” He grins as he wipes his forehead with a dirty red bandanna. “Sounds great! I’m starved.”
    No wonder. He’s working so hard! The shop is full of sawdust, and it looks much messier than usual. Normally, every tool is in its place and the shop is clean and tidy. But Dad just hasn’t been able to keep up with his orders lately. That’s a good thing for the family bank account but not such a good thing for Dad.
    â€œSage, I could really use your help in here this afternoon,” he says.
    Sage just shakes his head. “Got a meeting,” he mumbles. He doesn’t meet Dad’s eyes.
    Dad sighs. “You know ...” he begins.
    Sage holds up a hand. “I know, I know. You’re working hard to save money for my college education. Well, I never asked you to!”
    My brother has been threatening not to go to college next year. He says it’s a waste of time and he wants to do something more “proactive,” whatever that means.
    Dad starts to answer, but Mom puts a hand on his arm. “We’ll talk about it later,” she says. “Why don’t you clean up? Waffles will be ready in ten minutes.”
    Sage disappears upstairs as soon as we get back in the house.
    Mom and I work together in the kitchen, making the batter for waffles and cutting up fresh fruit for a topping. Jayvee tries to help, too, but mostly he gets in the way.
    Just when I’m sure that I’m going to faint from hunger, brunch is ready. Dad comes in and washes up, but we have to call Sage three times before he hears us. When he’s on the Internet, he tunes everything else out.
    â€œSmells delicious!” Dad says as we sit down around the small kitchen table. It’s a tight fit, but I like being cozy. We clasp hands. Dad squeezes my hand, and I pass the squeeze along to Jayvee. He passes it to Mom, who passes it to Sage, who passes it back to my dad. The squeeze goes around and around, faster and faster, until we’re all squeezing at once. Then it’s time to eat.
    Dad spoons a big pile of strawberries and bananas onto his waffle and takes a huge bite. “Mmmm,” he says. “Spectacular!”
    The rest of us dig in, too. Except for Sage.
    He just sits there, looking down at his plate. “Are there eggs in here?” he asks, poking at his waffle, which is rapidly growing cold.
    Mom sighs. “Two. Is that a problem?”
    Sage pushes his plate away. “I guess I forgot to tell you,” he says. “I decided to go vegan.”
    Wow. That’s big news. Vegans are sort of like ultra-vegetarians. They don’t eat meat or any other animal products, like milk or eggs or cheese. Vegans don’t wear leather, and some of them won’t even eat honey because they believe it’s unfair to the bees to steal what they’ve created.
    â€œOh, Sage,” Mom says. “Don’t you think—”
    â€œI do think,” he says, interrupting her. “I think about the appalling conditions that the chickens who lay those eggs live in. It’s barbaric to force animals to live that way! I won’t be a part of that kind of exploitation.” He shoves his chair back from the table. “I don’t know how the rest of you can live with yourselves,” he adds angrily. Then he stomps out of the room and back up the stairs.
    The kitchen is silent. We just sit there, stunned.
    I’ve lost my appetite.

Chapter Two
    S o, brunch is basically a total bust. Nobody talks much after Sage’s outburst. He may have left the room, but the tension hasn’t. Silently, we finish our waffles. Then Dad pushes his chair back and carries his plate to the sink. I help