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Exhausted from my manic dancing, there I stood sweating and panting on the football field, the setting autumn sun adorning me with a shadow tens of yards long. Standing there in a dull haze, I almost laughed looking at the elongated silhouette of myself. Just how much of my being had been hiding in the shadows this whole time?

I plopped to the ground, paws gripping the rugged fake terrain, thoughts of my previous field-goal failure all but nil. Back now down on the ground, I spread my arms wide, looking nostalgically up at the orange-touched dusk. It took me just a moment to soak in the depths of my revelation.

Thinking back on it, there was no way my relationship with Daren wouldn't come to a head like this... I guess I just failed to see the trajectory from how miraculously easy it all started off. I somehow managed to accidentally out myself to an insanely hot guy who, score, was gay too! Daren and I didn't share any classes together and he didn't have any friends to suspect us. It was like I activated an irl cheat code or some shit; in the beginning it was just no-consequence fun gay dick flopping.

Heck, right up until our very unsexy pillowtalk, I was convinced Daren and me was gonna work out like a star-crossed romance... And if that was what it really was, you'd expect us to already be in our 'happily ever after' by now. But reality was lot more complicated than that, wasn't it? It was naive to think that I'd be able to keep this thing going without working for it and adjusting my life. And you know what? It really was time for a fucking change. After all, even if I wasn't a flamer, I was like... the horniest gay fucker I knew. Who knows how much internal pandemonium suppressing 'the big gay' inside has caused me.

Bending my paws back to cup the back of my head, I gave a wistful sigh out to the gay cosmos. These were my last few moments of being snug in the closet... I was not going to miss them.

Smiling to myself sentimentally, I whipped out my phone and pressed on the entry I had for Francesca, who was written as 'Park Geun-Hye' in my contacts. Licking my lips, my thumb stood poised. Ascension was my next step. I had maxed out my level as 'armored closet jock', and now it was time to reroll as 'gay lord'. Time to make evident my distaste for lady parts and my love for mangina.

I grinned as I stared at Francesca's contact info. This was it... These would be the last even shorter moments that I lived in the closet... goodbye closeted Rob. Hello snerd-nergelling out-to-the-world gay Rob.

Thumb: *inches forward*

I'm doing it! God I'm getting so giddy and nervous, ahhh!!

Thumb: *centimeters forward*

My Mom would be so proud of me~

Thumb: *milimeters forward*

Hehe... yeah... go me...

Thumb: *nanometers forward*

Uh... Alright then. I think that's enough milking it. Time for...

...

...

...

The moment of truth

...

...

...

...which would not come.

Because my thumb refused to move.

Despite my racing heart, my body held stiff. The neural circuits from my brain to my paw must have been rerouted because I couldn't bring myself to press the insidious green call button. There was a phantom wall between my thumb and the tiny area of screen that would connect my call to Francesca. No matter what angle I tried to approach it from, an invisible forcefield blocked my thumb. My face sank in disbelieving horror and disgust at myself.

I screamed internally.

Stress now clawing my eyes wide open, I sat up thinking my limp posture was posing an obstacle. To no avail. The invisible forcefield continued to mock me. You think one little instance of a mental breakdown evolving into greater self-understanding is enough to overcome years of denial? Think again!

What? Why was this happening? I did my super Saiyan final form and everything?! I thought I finally overcame this bullshit!

I brushed back my hair in frustrated stress. Eyed analyzing my phone in stark disbelief. Why does coming out have to be so impossibly hard for me? Have I been so deep in the closet that it conditioned my muscle memory too?

With a low-panicked groan seeping out of my mouth, my mind started whispering in a way that felt like I was being dragging me backwards on my back.

Remember how your parents found out you were gay through your search history? Then they tried to be 'cool' and 'supportive' by making 'playful' gay jokes that actually just made you resent your sexuality even more. Wasn't that fun? I mean, traumatic? Hope you enjoy that everyday for the rest of your life!

With that thought, it felt like my beating heart vanished.

...I don't want that...

_ ...But..._

Suddenly feeling very frail, I looked around. Some people really were tossing odd glancing. It wasn't for nothing, I was in the middle of the field. It was weird. I was weird. I cradled my legs, took a shaky breath, and sighed it out painfully.

How am I supposed to be a better person if I don't do this...?

I was so close, so damn close I could taste it! I want this so why am I not doing it? How was I going to get over all of these mental hangups about being gay if I don't accept it..? How was I supposed to show Daren that he means something to me if I don't do this...? What was I going to-

It hit me like a level seven lighting spell striking me in the spine.

Wait.

Wait, wait, wait.

I didn't want to think about it but...

I received some advice on this.

And it was stupid.

My Dad's offensively dad-like voice echoed in my mind: Have you tried getting shit-faced? That's how I told your Mom I have a choking fetish.

I collapsed backwards on the turf and let out an audible groan. Oh noooo, nooooo was I really going to listen to Dad's frat boy calling card advice? Was my mental fortitude really so weak that I had to turn into a sloppy drunk for a night just to let out a little secret?!

Hear ye hear ye, make way for the unsolicited mental flashback!

First came third period Japanese class. "Why would a popular guy want to go out with a girl like me?" a sad-looking Jessica lamented with the pained eyes of a butterfly with its wings ripped off.

Then came the School hallway: "Yeah alright, let's go to homecoming together," I said thoughtlessly to Francesca- after she babbled random French words interspersed with occasional drops of 'fake date' and 'homecoming'.

*quick fastforwarding noises* "Oh my God, you said 'yes' didn't you?" Daren soon said to me with eyes so disappointed that I refused to believe it at the time.

Then came our *make up* talk... "I ain't ever going to date another guy in the closet."

...And when Daren looked at me with those hazel eyes, hoping beyond hope that I might care about him enough to be in the open for him, I abandoned him, and walked away...

...

...

Sighs

...

...

...You know what, why the fuck not?! I've already gone off my fucking rocker, might as wellexplore a choking fetish get fucking wasted! What's the worse that could happen? On overdose? That only happens to celebrities! Heck, I already exploded like pop rocks mixed with diet soda in the locker room, I HAD NOTHING ELSE LEFT TO LOSE! #getyourdrankon.

Reinvigorated with a second wind of manic energy, I double slapped my cheeks and jumped onto my feet. Slinging my backpack onto my shoulder, I raced out of the increasingly vacant football field to the spot where my family parked in the school lot like a crazed murderous clown on a cocaine fender bender. I could still do this, I had to! I just... needed to take a little bit of an inhibition inhibitor so I didn't freeze up again.

"Mommy that guy's going to get wasted so he can come out of the closet easier!" the same five-year-old Cheeta from before said, peering out of a car with excited fingers on the window.

"Don't make things up, sweetie," his mom said dismissively as she drove out of the parking lot.

Ignoring the blur of confused faces as I ran, I soon saw my parents and my unnecessarily goth sister on their merry way to my car. Anne remained broodily silent as my parents talking about weird parent stuff that went over my head like... the stockmarket, taxes, real estate, shooting up heroine, the usual.

My tromping strides were picked easily picked up by Dad's feline ears. He greeted me with a supportive smile and a wave of his paw, "Hey, Rob, really proud of you, you almost made a really hard field goal today and-"

I was not in the mood to mince words. Perking my whiskers up, I put on my 'serious biz face'. "Dad, I need alcohol to come out of the closet, right now. I know you brought some like you always do, so gimme," I demanded, paw opening and closing like child eager for his Halloween candy.

Anne let out some disgusted noise before leaning against the minivan wall with her arms crossed, shaking her head disapprovingly. Mom started snickering with a paw to her muzzle, and Dad, caught totally off-guard, started dashing his eyes back and forth along the parking lot to make sure that no other respectable middle-class parents were watching, "Ahaha, uh... I have no idea what you're talking about, son..." Dad said cautiously, stealthily handing me a paw-sized flask that looked like every alcoholic character's flask on any TV series ever.

I immediately started downing that shit without even knowing what it was.

Wondertwin Powers activate! Form of: an alcoholic!

My parents' jaws all but dropped at they witnessed by degenerate display. "Woo, I didn't know you had that in you Rob! Way to kill it!" Mom cheered, with a sassy flap of her paw at me.

"Lovely..." my black-clad/hardly visible sister muttered sardonically, stealing herself away into the minivan so she didn't have to witness my new trashy self.

A few gulps in I realized that my throat fucking hurt. Yet I was not deterred. After downing the entire remaining half of the flask, I let out a blast of breath before sucking in oxygen between coughs. and chucking the flask down onto the pavement yelling, "TAKE THAT, CLOSET!" victoriously as I wiped off my dribble on my sleeve.

Mom and Dad's impressed high eyebrows, along with the pain in my throat me to quickly realized something very very bad. I took the chance to look at Dad with perplexed eyes, a vague foggy tingling sensation slowly spreading from my gut to the ends of my body, "Shit Dad, was this straight liquor? Is that what you've been drinking at your son's football games this entire time? Is that why Mom always drives?" I asked confrontationally.

Dad cleared his throat and his expression waxed neutral. "Try working for an accounting firm for twenty years and then you'll understand the things that I do," Dad replied as if it was something he had said many many times before.

I rolled my eyes up for a moment before confirming that I had bigger fishdicks fish to fry. "Okay, whatever, I just need to... phone call now! Over... there! Be right back," I said over my shoulder between awkward jogging motions, pointing to that conveniently out of sight dumpster. A calm flood of dizziness began creeping into my perceptions as I started actually jogging toward it.

"Alright, just try to hurry! We've only got a little over an hour for you to get dressed up for homecoming!" Mom called out before sliding into the driver's seat and turning on the car's radio to that fucking annoying rap station.

I stopped at the perfectly out of sight nook around the dumpster, you know the one. For a moment I realized just how foolish it might have been to drink an unknown amount of alcohol on literally the first time I've ever gotten significantly drunk, but... Oh, things were feeling... pretty good actually, hm... Hey this was pretty nice... my throat was fucking screaming at me, but my anxiety seemed to be quieting down. Oh wow... maybe this call wouldn't be so bad after all!

With all the finesse of a reanimated corpse stuffed with Mescaline, I took out the thing that our elders are always complaining we use too much and what ever happened to good old fashion rotary dial phones?

Returning to the dreaded green call button... I started to feel a teensy bit woobly, but also kind of relaxed and... giggly... ... penis... hehehehehehhe.

I was anxious that invisible forcefield would block my way, but son of a bitch, my thumb was already on the screen! Whaaaaaaaat! I mean, I held down on the button for too long so it didn't do anything, but I did it! I successfully pressed the 'Francesca' button!

...

Oh... I should probably press that again if I want to call her...

*press*

Hooooooo.... Huhuhuhu, I did it! Again! I was getting good at this, *coming out of the closet* thing! This was so cool... why didn't anyone tell me alcohol was the answer to all my problems?

*bu ring bu ring bu ring*

Oh shit.

"Bonsoir?" replied a conceited sounding voice on the other end, way faster than I was ready for.

I let in an exaggerated lungful of air that undoubtedly didn't accomplish anything. "I..." ...something was obviously out of place. "wait hold on, let me put this call on splitscreen so the audience can see you better."

I pressed the splitscreen button on my phone, and in a way that made absolutely no physical sense, half of the screen that was my reality became a window into where Francesca was taking the call from (if my life were a webcomic it would make sense, okay!).

The Husky was reading Vouged magazine while cradling her cell between her shoulder and cheek. She sat in her pink velvet homecoming dress at a disturbingly shiny makeup station, adorned with a golden bowl sink, a crystal makeup mirror with lights on the edges, and a five tier stand with god knows how many different makeup brushes. All the while a middle aged white Ram, dressed like a stereotypical butler worked on her brown hair with the world's most expensive hair curler wand. Somebody has expensive tastes... and a lot of money.

"Ah, yeah that's much better! I can see your reactions and where you're sitting now and everything! Woopdy doopdy!" I said.

Francesca eyed me from across the splitscreen with a hint of irritation, on account of my... unparalleled and sophisticated choice of words. "...Right. Now, what where you going on about? I do hope it doesn't take too long. You're supposed to be here to escort me in under an hour," Francesca asked casually before flipping a page of her magazine. Her eyes immediately recoiled at the contents, "What on earth is she wearing? Everyone knows Poodles and Kasmire do not mix. Somebody let that lés _miserable_know what she's doing to herself!"

With any final distractions completely out of the way, my booze-induced wobbly calm was replaced by an emerging downward pull of panic. "U-Uh, Francesca I'm really sorry but there's something I reeeally need totellyou thatI shouldatoldyousooner only I was scAred Pleasedon'thateme phtphtphtphtpht" for some reason I ended my sentence with motorboat lips.

From across the metaphysical split screen, Francesca's gaze slid slightly to a tiny huff, as if she was dealing with an annoying zit under her cheek fur. She placed her magazine down and gripped her phone with one hand. "Robert, are you drunk? Sa·cré bleu you were supposed to pick me up!" The prim and proper Husky let out the world's most simultaneously nasally and feminine exasperated noise. "Uff, whatever, I'll just get Jeeves to escort me to the premises," she said, gesturing back to her butler whose name was Jeeves because of course it was. "Now, what is this thing that you need to tell me? I'm sure it's nothing that would get in the way of our plans, since you're already proving a thorn in my side on my big night, Robert."

"U-Uh..." I quivered.

It felt like all my blood was localizing into a clot in my gut that would form into some sort of super ulcer/cist/hemorrhoid. But I made it this far... I broke down, got drunk and even ... I could do this!...??!?!....?!!!!!???

Big breath. In. Out. Let's go, "Well, okay here it goes... Francesca, I'm...

A thousand needles into my spine.

"g-g-g-g..."

This was it. The final battle. Against the fatal G word.

"...Yes?" Francesca elongated with patronizing eyes.

"Ggggg-ggggg-ggg" I spat out in a way not un-reminiscent of machine gun noises.

This was a whole new level of emotional stress...

"Are you familiar with the word 'articulate'?"

"g-g-g-g-g-..Ggggggggg' Guh-huhuhuhu-gggggggaaaaeeeeuuuuu"

"...Grounded? Gregarious? Green ? Gone with the wind? Gageac-et-Rouillac? What?" she offered impatiently.

"Uh.... What I'm trying to say is..."

Don't wimp out! Eyes on the prize! Dareeeeeeeennnnnnnn. That good boi deserves to be happy and I can help him with that shit but only if I am teh gay lord. Just fucking one word...

"So... I'm..."

Her expression was growing testier by the minute.

"phhhhhhhttttthhhh" the structure of my mouth fell apart to make more drunk motor boat noises. "Sorry, let me try that again."

"Uhhh," Francesca huffed, clearly reaching the end of her patience.

Okay... the 'g' word was off limits, there had to be some sort of euphemism or roundabout way to get the meaning across! I mean... I've been living with my mom for 17 years, I'm sure some of her gross penchant for euphemism had rubbed off on me, right? Let's see... butt pirate, cum goblin, dick donker, nooo she'll just think it's me being weird and drunk then!

"Y'know..."

Francesca's eyes were widening with frustrated intensity.

Quick, c'mon what do I know about Francesca that can be used for a euphemism... She's ruthless... like politics... way too into herself... likes pink things... tries to be all elegant... unnecessarily accentuates her sentences with random French words- *gasps* THAT'S IT!

I just had to think of something gratuitously French that's also gay... what do I Know? Oh, what I do know?! The only foreign country I know anything about is Japan Because I'm a hopeless closet weaboo....

Wait... that's it!

Those super gay manga that were set it France!

"I really like the Poem of Wind and Trees and The Flower of Versailles!" I blurted out right as Francesca opened up her mouth to say something undoubtedly terrifying.

Recognition dimly lit up in the Huskie's eyes. Her vexed expression loosened minutely, "...Are you trying to tell me that you're gay? Is that what this little game has been about?" she asked impatiently, rapping her fingers against the makeupstand.

Holy shit... it worked...

My jaw dropped. There it was floating around. The _g-word._I had never been so glad to hear that word. ...Only, was she frustrated with my behavior, or with my secret...?

"...yes..." I said weakly as if a vulnerable piece of my soul flew out with my breath.

She cleared her throat and pressed up on the sides of her now fully curled hair. She looked at me with unreadable feminine eyes.

"..."

It was terrifying.

Time felt like it was echoing itself as I waited with baited breath.

Then she replied.

"...Well, alright. Not sure why you needed to tell me this now, but can't say I'm surprised," Francesca said neutrally.

"You... really?" I said dumbstruck, blinking so hard that I could hear my eyelids flap.

The Husky turned around, crossing her legs as Jeeves presented a pink corsage to her. A tiny smile cracked onto her muzzle, "Let's just say I entertained the possibility... Who wouldn't find it curious that a good-looking Panther like you didn't have a girlfriend for so long..." *Poke* Jeeves pinned the corsage onto her dress, invoking a flinch from the Husky. "Ow, Jeeves, careful with that! Poke me again and you're sleeping in the cellar tonight!"

"My apologies, mademoiselle," Jeeves replied with a graceful bow.

Turning back around, Francesca continued in a droll voice, peppered with little upward inflection, "You know, you should have told me sooner. I could have given you a trial run as my new gay best friend. Though I'm not sure you have enough in the sass department," she spoke with a bit of snoot as if she were interviewing me right then and there.

My body began to loosen. Some sort of wavering smile formed on my mouth. I let out a few tapered laughs. Such an unbelievable sense of relief overtook me... like I had just leaped into a new world with half the gravity. I did it. I actually did it! I actually did the right thing! I... came out and... it was fine. It was completely fine! There was still good in the world. Oh, happy joyous day!

Between the alcohol, sudden relief, and exhaustion in my legs, I relaxed. So much that I may have made a leap in logic, "I'm soglad you understand why Ican't take you outto Homecoming. Thankyou Francesca! I' really trying tomake progress towardthis cominout thing, and I'm solucky you're being sosupportive."

Little did I know.

What a beast I had unleashed.

"... What?" Francesca demanded with all the intensity of my inner demons. Menacing...like then distant howling of feral wolves heard while camping. On the other end of the splitscreen, Jeeve's chin tilted upwards as if anticipating a fire he'd have to extinguish.

I looked back, downright blindsided... basking in fear. Even though the cloud of alcohol, the peril was coming in loud and clear. Somehow, I managed to speak up... "Uhh...Well youknow 'cause I'mgay and Ican't keep onacting like I'mstraight all the time... I needto start comingout and... takina girl tohomecoming wouldsend the wrongmessage..."

Her undulating laugh rattled the very essence of my being, "Ahahahaha." It was the laugh of a passive-aggressive hellspawn harpy. It felt as though her cursed eyes were boring holes into me from miles away... or just a couple feet through the split screen. "Robert, dear, you made an agreement with me to be my date. In what part of the world is it acceptable to cancel major plans like this an hour beforehand?"

"...Montreal?" I offered.

"Clever, but no," she quickly shut me down.

I felt a chill pump its way from my spine down to my feet. I felt very very uncomfortable and exposed. This was going south, quick. She was a public speaker, if I didn't convince her fast, she'd have me! "But... the theme of the homecoming dance that you planned is 'homecoming out'... you're not seriously going to force me to keep pretending like I'm straight, are you...? T-That's hypocritical!"

"It's a necessary contradiction for my plan to snatch Jayce's attention, Robert. You had your chance to tell me much earlier than an hour before homecoming starts. Suck. It. up. You can come out after Jayce and I become an official couple. It shouldn't take longer than a week or two."

A week or two...? Toru might completely snatch Daren away by then. Hell, if I don't do something to show Daren I love him *tonight* I feel like I'll lose him!

Agh... only she wasn't wrong! My timing did suck ass, but I was so tired of putting this off! This was my one big shot! This was homecoming out! This was my fucking time and I had to make the most of it! Quick Rob, say something clever!

"Yeah, well... who says I still have to go with you, anyway?! It's a free country!" I asserted inarticulately, nearly losing my balance as I stomped my foot on the ground.

Fuck.

"Ahahaha" Her laugh... didn't come across as passive aggressive this time, oh no... she was genuinely amused at my statement. Like we were playing a game of chess and she already saw checkmate several turns ahead.

With a terrifyingly bright smile that could set a seasoned executioner's ass to shitting, Francesca patted me on the head through timespace like she was congratulating me on being a fifth runner up in a debate contest. "You really have no concept of leverage, do you, Robert Hamilton? You just gave me ammunition against yourself! Clearly you're still mostly in the closet and only want a select few to know, so I can easily just say 'if you don't follow up on your promise, I'll out you to the entire school in the most horrendous way you can imagine', Comprende vous?"

Her words hit me will all the enchanting force of a curse from an ice witch; I was frozen solid in my shoes. She just... put my nightmare into words... just a few minutes ago I was so confident that I could be openly gay... and she just dragged me back down... like it was nothing.

The most horrendous way I can imagine...?

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>spreading flyers of my internet search history across school

In my drunk, thousand-yard stare, I didn't realize that my terrified expression was being read. "Did I guess right?" Francesca said with a cutesy trill and a sinister giggle. "Gosh, I'm just a negotiator par excellence. It's like I don't even have to try anymore!"

"You... wouldn't..." I muttered shakily into the phone. "I thoughtyou liked gayguys?"

Triumph and condescendence danced in her toothy sneer, "I do, but even more so I despise spineless, unreliable flakes. But how fortunate you are that I'm still giving you the opportunity to take me out to homecoming so we wouldn't have to have something so unpleasant happen, hm?"

"I... you... that's not... but..." I whined, stumbling on my own words.

As my gut felt like it was turning inside out, the reality soon hit me. I had lost. She had me trapped in a corner with my tail between my legs. It was over... I didn't have a comeback.

All corners of my body felt like they were stuffed with rotting straw.

I felt small, pathetic and weak.

My ears, whiskers and eyes sunk in tandem.

"So... you'll follow through with your promise, and remain my date for homecoming as excepted. I suppose that you can't pick me up any more, but que sera sera... oh wait, that's Spanish.."

My thoughts were slow, heavy drum beats as I stood silent, helpless.

The one time I actually tried to come out...

Of my own volition...

It took so much to get here...

Fuck I even got drunk... I never get drunk...

...

...my throat hurt...

I feel wobbly... and tired... shitty...

Maybe I should just stay here and cry myself to death...

...

I found myself balling my fist with gritted teeth.

No... I, I can't give up! I can't go back to the old me! ACK!

I opened my mouth to say something. Anything.

*discombobulated croaking Panther noises*

I was drunkenly choking up on tears and a sore throat. Fuck!

Francesca glared at me with contempt. "Robert, I did not take you for a drunken slob. Pathetic, really. You had better set yourself straight in the next... fifty-three minutes, twenty seconds."

Breathing in and out, I calmed myself with a good double slap to the cheeks, and readdressed my adversary. Tears began streaming out of my eyes. Sincere tears. This was it. Now or never.

Slurred as my words were, I opened up my heart. "Francesca... please, I'msorry I'm being suchapain to you anddrunk andimmature but thisisreally hard for me andI justwant to finallybe myself and finally makeright allthe dumbshit I'vedone and said justto hidemy sexuality. I feellike ifI can't dothis on thisnight of allnights, then I'mnotever going tobeable todo it. I'm sure you canconvince someoneelse to go with you, so pleeeease just lemme do thisthing, please. I *need* this, I *need* yourhelp," I begged, reaching into emotional depths that I didn't realize I had. Sadness hope... desire to change... fear of rejection... All these feelings swarmed in my head. All of them riding on her response. This was my last attempt.

Her answer was curt.

"No."

The reply hit me. Right in the soft squishy part that I opened up. The part of me that said 'being gay isn't all that bad'. The part of me that was a little glad I had this thing that made me different from others. It ached. It was rending. It hurt just to stand. It hurt to be alive.

My gaze dropped down to my feet, defeated. I let out a few incoherent weak sobs. Tears were flowing freely, but the pain and shock kept me from breaking down.

Francesca flourished a sarcastic eyeroll, "Stop being a dramatic queen. Now hurry up and get ready. You've wasted enough time with this call as it is."

Francesca began the motions hang up her cell, disgusted at my teary display, but then she tilted her head curious at something behind me.

"Are you quite though yet?" A sinister dark voice unleashed behind me.

"Nyahh!" I blurted out on edge. I reflexively backstepped at my sister's sudden appearance. After being scared half to death, I continued sobbing with freely streaming tears and uneven breaths.

"You appear to be in distress," my gothic Tiger sister commented humorously, her white fur glowing ghost-like in the twilight.

In this dark hour of mine, even my weirdo sister was a blessed sight. "Waaahhahahaha" I incomprehensibly verbed to Anne, communicating how poorly the phone call went without using any actually English words.

"So, Francesca isn't taking it well? Why's that?" she asked intuitively.

I nodded pathetically with a stated frown, before eloquently explaining my predicament. "Wahahahalahahawoooooo". Francesca looked at me disdainfully from beyond the splitscreen, unsure of the situation.

Anne nodded with understanding eyes. "I see. So even though the theme is 'homecoming out', she still wants you to be her date, but you don't want that because you don't want to send mixed signals about your sexuality. So you're at a crossroads, expect she has more social clout and leverage on you, so she's essentially forcing you to go and continue playing the role of 'straight jock'."

For a moment I cocked my head and wondered how she understood all that from my nonsensical babbling. But then I decided that some things were just better left unexplained and nodded.

"Here, let me handle it," Anne offered with an extended paw. I had no idea what she could possibly do to handle Francesca, but I figured there was nothing left to lose, so with a sloppy sigh, I pawed my phone to her.

"Hello, Francesca? This is Anne Hamilton. Rob's sister."

Shambling behind my shorter sister, I sheepishly looked across the interdimensional splitscreen, still feeling dejected and defeated. You could see the miffed confusion in Francesca's scrunched expression. What would Anne possibly do for me at this point? She was a goth Freshman; Francesca was going to eat her up... And it wasn't like I'd be any help after Francesca practically stuffed her hand up my ass and manipulated me like a fucking hand puppet...

"Ahahaha, excuse me? I was just finishing up a conversation with my date to homecoming, not his sister who I've never met..." Another spark of recognition, "Oh, no, wait, I think I do know you. You're the poorly groomed freshman emo girl who never wears anything with color, and smells of cheap essential oils," Francesca said, accentuating the tail end of sentence like it was a question, rather than a statement?

Hatred practically spawned on Anne's face upon the mentioning of 'emo'. As my sister has made very clear to me time and time again, she was goth, not emo. Her look could rip bricks out of a building. I took a step back after the good moment it took me to process the emanating malice. I almost lost my balance, emotions fluctuating between pained sadness and fear. "Look, I'm going to lay this out real simple for you Francesca. Cut my brother some slack, or else." Her voice was frightening.

Francesca's face was riddled with amusement, like she just found out that the only opposition for her next campaign was a kid from programming club, "Or else what? You'll write angry poems about me and offend my eyes with your hideous monochrome wardrobe?"

Anne's dark resolve did not waver. "No. You know that ancient Native American burial ground your family's estate is buried on?

"What does that have to do with-"

And the voice that come out of my sister's muzzle... was not her own. It sounded like a scratchier, more twisted version of a voice modulation used in anonymous crime videos online. My jaw dropped and I listened intently to the demonic words. Hoc est inanis strepitus linguam Latinam

Francesca's well-trimmed ears flicked as she looked perplexed at her phone. I could see the effects of the chanting from across the splitscreen.

*chitter chatter chitter chatter*

Francesca's eyes shifted to the empty tea cup placed at the end of the makeup stand; it was rattling. Similar vibrations suffused Francesca's room with an eerie low clattering. Slowly shifting as the cup jittered, the teacup fell off the makeupstand on onto the ground. Francesca eyed it with concern as it continued to rattle on the ground. "What are you doing? What's that weird language you're speaking? Stop that!" The Husky demanded.

A cold wave of dark energy permeated throughout Francesca's room, accompanied by the faintest moaning noises. Suddenly, all off her makeup brushes and bottles of fur conditioner began to drift out of the makeupstand and into the air... Whirling around in circles in the air like the house became some sort of haunted mansion.

Staring at her tools in disbelief, a flash of fear smit Francesca's face before it was supplanted by angry resolve. She turned back to the splitscreen and glared knives dagger and needles at my sister.

"Oh, I see what's going on. You think awakening the tormented spirits lingering underneath my family's estate to mess around my things is enough to cow me? I'll have you know I used to volunteer at a preschool. I'm used to random objects being chaotically thrown around the room! "

Anne's chanting grew louder. Drawers in her room began opening and closing, lights began blinking on and off in random intervals, and suddenly from the makeup stand gushed a stream of a dark red liquid. Then, with a few sharp inflections in the flow of Anne's chanting, Francesca's neatly folded clothes shot out of her drawers and began floating around the room as if worn by invisible people expressing their torment through tribal dance.

The Husky blinked her eyes at the dancing clothes in momentary disbelief as Jeeves began wrestling with the possessed clothes, trying desperately to return them to the drawer. She quickly recomposed herself, "Also that. That happened too!"

Feeling weak and just... baffled, I sat down on the parking lot curb silently. I slumped my head against the balls of my paws, watching the magical performance with rapt attention and an open mouth.

E** t **** m *a* le *d* i *x* i **** p *u* l *c* h *r* i *t* u *d* i *n* i **** s *p* i *r* i *t* u *u* m **** e *x* i *s* t *u* n ***t* u** t i *n* t *e* r *f* i *c* i *a* m **** d ***e* m** e *r* e *t* r *i* c ***e*

quod non actu

Cursed moaning from hell itsself paired with scuffling of dirt, emanated from outside Francesca's estate. The husky cringed with an appalled expression, wincing. Alerted to a new development, Francesca ran across her aggressively pink bedroom (with way too many framed pictures of herself hanging from the walls) to look outside her mullioned bedroom window. He eyes scoped her family's vast lawn, widening as she was confronted with crusty undead forms that were in desperate need of a shower were sprouting out from her expansive lawn. They shambled toward her estate, ghastly voices groaned in haunting unison,

"Our laaaaaaand..."

"Get oooooout..."

"Return the slaaaaab..."

"Number 5 plastics are recyclable you ignorant fuuuuucks..."

But then she scoffed at the threatening scene. Turning back toward the splitscreen, she spoke firmly into her cellphone. "Oh, think you can get me to concede by summoning an army of the dead, do you? I'll have you know, I watched all of HBO's The Walking Not-Alive! I Know all about killing zombies!" There was fire in her eyes. "Jeeves!" she called out to her Butler who was scrambling to pacify and collect the cosmetic tools circulating in the air. "Get the guns, we're going to fight out way out of this undead phantasmagoria!"

"At once, mademoiselle," Jeeves responded subserviently, right as Anne's voice shifted to something less demonic and more... alien.

Publica est homo moriatur n** u *l* l *u* m **** s *e* n *s* u ***m* f** a *c* i ***t* t** e *m* p *u* s **** i *t* i *n* e *r* a *n* t *u* r**

*budump* went Jeeve's heart.

Upon the end of Anne's dark spoken verse, Jeeves collapsed without warning, dropping the limited-edition President-Barbie decorated double barrel shotgun he retrieved from the closet.

His appendages splayed across pink wool carpet, as if controlled by some invisible force. His eyes gazed in rapture at the ceiling, as if he finally understood.

"My ancestors..." the Ram spoke with lips unnaturally stiff.

Francesca gasped, and rushed to her servant's side, "Jeeves! What's the matter?! If you die, I am so taking that out of your vacation days!"

His eyes filled with the wisdom of the ancients, "Her chanting... is transcending time... She's erasing the existence of my great great great grandmother, who was Navajo..." he intoned with morbid resignation.

Francesca's eyes sunk, "No, Jeeves! Who's going to curl my hair and bribe dad's prostitutes to keep quiet if you don't exist?!" she pleaded.

Jeeves turned his head weakly to Francesca, "I just have... one final thing to say..."

"What is it? Tell me!" Francesca spoke out, holding Jeeves' hands as she listened intently.

Transparency fluctuating weaker and weaker, Jeeves spoke his final words, "My name... isn't Jeeves... you dumb bitch."

And then his fading translucent being popped out of reality, like he was an object deleted on photoshop.

Francesca, blinked blankly a few times before putting her paws to her hips and scoffing, "Uh, Rude!"

But there was that stubborn resolve again. She barked into her phone with bitter regulated hatred, "You think fazing my butler out of existence a-la Back to the Future time paradox is enough to frighten me? I'll have you know that I am a self-sufficient woman who don't need no butler!"

Equipping herself with several pink navy-seal grade grenades from her closet, Francesca cocked the barrel of her shotgun with a loud _kerchank_and shot the living deading hell out of the zombie that lurked at the doorway to her room.

She then jump-kicked down her cursed nightstand (with drawers opening and closing on their own) to form make a barricade by her door. She proceeded to headshot every single zombie that tried to invade her room and consume her delicious A5 grade brains.

"I WILL SHOW NO WEAKNESS! A BUCHANNAN GIVES NO CONCESSIONS!" was Francesca's empowered warcry as she went to work.

*Ker-bang* a zombie down. *Ker-bang* and another one. The pile of zombie corpses providing a further barrier to the Huskie's room. She then yanked the safety pin off one of her grenades with her teeth and launched it into the hallway as a throng of zombies clambered over the unmoving bodies of their brethren.

My jaw dropped as I watched what was basically an episode of Buffy the Zombie Slayer.

*KERBOOM*

A zombie, climbing up the walls to Francesca's house shattered the window to her room. The Husky bull rushed the undead form and thwacked it with the butt end her shotgun, knocking it down to the ground below.

Goth-struck and uncertain as to whether Francesca or my sister was more terrifying, I rigidly rounded to my sister, knowing she was unleashing her final spell...

neutrum est terminus culturae appropriatio

The walls in Francesca's room moaned humanlike, the voice dark with the weight of a thousand souls lost to time. Blood... began permeating out of the wall, left to right, forming letters... Francesca eyed it intermittently as she continued to shoot at the emerging onslaught of zombies from her windowsill.

C U L

*Ker-bang*

T U...

*Ker-bang*

R A L...

Francesca's fierce expression slowly sank as a new word began to form below.

A P P...

*Ker-bang*

R O...

*Ker-bang*

P R..

The Husky dropped her shotgun.

I A T

Upon realizing the true meaning of the writing, the Husky fell to her knees. She screamed, resolve finally crushed. "AHHHHHHH!"

Francesca's voice was desperate and pleading as she spoke into her phone, stress rampant in her eyes, "Okay, fine you win! You win! I'll cut your brother a deal, just please, I can't take another lecture on cultural appropriation! It's too heavy-handed and insensible!"

Anne ceased her chanting.

*pop*

And just like that, the spirits possessing Francesca's paraphernalia vanished, the floating items dropping to the ground with a loud clatter. The zombies vanished into thin air, leaving Francesca's room (and grenaded hallway) a complete mess, but otherwise mundane. Oh hey, also Jeeves was back (boy did he have an awkward look on his face. Look at him, trying to sneak out of the room before Francesca noticed him). My sister turned back to me, expression bleak as usual, "She said she'll cut you a deal," she said matter-of-factly as she pawed me my phone.

I stared at my phone before accepting it. "Thanks Anne..." I muttered in a transparent voice, utterly stupefied that my Sister just used her demonic goth girl powers for the greater good... *my* greater good. Cautiously I raised the phone to my ear, looking at the war-stricken battle zone that was Francesca's room.

Despite the extreme, fantastical situation she was just thrown into, Francesca spoke to me calm, collected and diplomatic, "Alright, Rob... after a nice persuading chat with your... pleasant sister. I've decided to cut you a deal."

"Really...?" I asked unconfidently, a flicker of hope kindling in my raved gut.

"...Yes," Francesca confirmed, with evident reluctance.

My ears perked back up. It felt like tears would have streamed down my cheeks if my puffy eyes weren't already drained. Relief hit me, bringing a bandage and ointment to my weak squishy spot.

Francesca laid out her terms steadily, "I still want you to come with me to Homecoming, but you only need to be my *straight* date until Principal Faltsy announces Jayce and myself homecoming King and Queen. That'll probably be sufficient for my plan. After that, you're free. I feel that this is a very fair and generous arrangement."

"Well..." I said uncertainly.

Francesca took in a deep breath as if she were holding back an urge to scream, and massaged her temple, "Let me put this into perspective for you. The announcement is at eight, and I probably won't get there until 7:15 considering how your sister's little zombie invasion ruined my hair," she said vexingly as if that was the takeaway from Anne's black magic. "In other words, forty-five minutes. Just forty-five minutes. Do you think you can keep your promise and not make a complete jerk out of yourself for forty-five minutes?"

Drunk and emotionally exhausted as I was, the gears in my mind rotated slowly.

Well... forty-five minutes was like... two episodes of anime if you skip the commercials. I guess just keeping it up a little bit longer wouldn't be too bad... I'd at least be able to talk to Daren by the later half of the dance...

"Yeah, I guess I can do that... In my experience, I'm definitively good at not making an ass out of myself, heh," I said with fake confidence and a self-effacing laugh.

Francesca nodded coldly, "Then it's settled. And just... try to look attractive and presentable. And don't you dare drink anything else besides water or coffee. See you at homecoming, au revoir!" Francesca spoke with barely restrained frustration, the splitscreen winking out of existence as she ended the call.

Still in disbelief that my sister just carried my ass hardcore, I shuffled my feet around and stared at the dark visage of my sister. She looked aloof and angsty as ever, yet... it was like I was looking at somebody completely different. She was... a goddamn hero. I...

For the first time in my life I thought it was maybe possible that I actually liked my sister some.

"Wow, Anne, I can't believe you just did that for me... I... It didn't make a lick of sense, but I didn't realize you cared about me enough to... Oh god, you had no idea how scared I was," I rambled before letting out an unseemly hiccup and mucusy snort (thanks to all my ugly sobbing). "...Thank you!" I said in utter gratitude as I walked over to Anne with outstretched arms.

"Please refrain from hugging me, you'll get snot on my dress," Ann declared, holding her palm out toward me. I immediately dropped my outstretched arms.

Anne let out a ghost-like sigh, "To be honest Rob, you irritate me. You're spineless, erratic, and worst of all you harp on my non-conformist style despite being a closeted Japanophile with a daddy fetish."

Jesus did she have to mention that last part?!

Her whiskers began to sag, and looked at me with an uncharacteristic amount of sympathy in her eyes. "But I know what it's like to be different... and how painful it is to not be accepted when all you want is for someone to understand... "

For a moment, I stood there speechless. She was staring right at me... she never did that... oh god, her eyes, they looked just like mine.

Was that... hurt in them?

"You know sometimes I overhear you when you talk about me. I don't have much of a presence. People often overlook me..."

My shoulders sagged, and my gut felt bloody. I felt like I was about to be told something I really really didn't want to admit.

"...like when you called me a 'stuck-up bitch' for going pescatarian."

"..."

"Or made fun of my 'vampire whore makeup'."

"..."

".Or mocked my witch name 'Anathym Ravencraft' as 'Ana-thot Raven-cunt'."

...still proud of that one.

"Or when you tell your friends that you'd rather I didn't even show up at your football games..." That one she spoke with extra dejection in her voice. Her ears folded back for a moment.

My bloody gut plummeted.

She frowned, "But I figured, maybe the reason you had so much trouble accepting me was because you couldn't even accept yourself. Maybe if I helped you, things could finally be alright between us," she said, staring down at the ground.

...Oh my God.

I was a piece of shit brother.

My body ached with shame. Like I was staring at a mirror that showed the ugliest parts of myself... "Anne. I am so sorry. I never realized I was such a- a- a- a-"

"Shh," she silenced me before I started breaking down into tears again. "My apologies. This isn't the time nor place for this conversation. You're drunk, and don't have much time," she said softly looking forlornly off into the distance. "Now may we make haste and return to mother and father's car? I'm eager to go to homecoming so I can stay for five minutes and then leave to brood with my friends outside," she suggested, turning back at me with the world's tiniest smile.

It took me a few moments to swallow, but I found some understanding in that smile I hadn't seen in years. "Yeah, let's... let's go."