“You haven’t done much better,” Jeb said. “Look at this place! Not to mention how the other kids are feeling so alienated by you and Fang now that you seem to have become your own cozy flock of two.”

My face went red. No snappy comeback for that one.

“We never intended for that to happen,” Jeb said — like “they” had made a whole flowchart of our lives before we were even born. That was the last straw.

“Guess what? You don’t get to intend squat to happen in my life, ever again!” I shouted. “You don’t get to pick out what freaking socks I wear, much less anything else!”

Jeb glared at me. “You’re not making good decisions, Max,” he said with quiet intensity. “You’re being run by your heart, not your head. That isn’t how I brought you up.”

I thought my chest was going to explode. “You brought me up in a dog crate,” I said, trying not to shriek. “Those days are over. Forever.”

Chapter 40

40

I HAD NIGHTMARES THAT NIGHT. I dreamed that I slapped Angel, hard, and her head split open — then her face peeled aside to reveal Mr. Chu, my old nemesis. I dreamed that Fang and I were dressed up and walking down an aisle in a church, but when I turned to look at him, he had the head of an Eraser. I dreamed that Ivory boy Dylan had disgusting boils on his face. Eew. I guess my subconscious was trying to make an oh, so subtle point: People aren’t always what they seem.

It was late morning when I finally woke, feeling almost as if I’d been drugged. The amount of sun coming in the window told me it was almost lunchtime. I padded down the hall, the smell of smoke and charred couch becoming stronger. When I reached the living room, I stopped in surprise.

It was almost empty. All the ruined furniture was gone. The water had been mopped up. Nudge was on a step stool, spraying the sooty ceiling with cleaner. Without a word, I went into the kitchen for some chow.

Gazzy and Iggy followed me in, carrying dirty dishes and a pile of dirty clothes. Iggy dropped the clothes by the washing machine. When did these guys get so industrious?

“What’s all that?” I asked.

“I told them to clean up their pigsty,” Angel said. “Gaz, put those dishes in the sink. Iggy, start a load of laundry. Some of your clothes have mold on them.”

Was I still having a nightmare? Since when did Angel give orders?

I opened the fridge, but it was empty. I looked around and saw a couple empty cereal boxes, an empty bread wrapper.

“Are we all out of food?” I asked.