Jon didn't know what to do. Trapped between his own bedroom door and blaring showtunes that seemed perfectly timed to make his life as miserable as possible, he had nowhere to vent his frustration. All he could do was ball up his fists. He was about ready to scream, through the door, over the stereo, up through the roof and into the heavens, when the least likely thing he could imagine happened.
The door to his bedroom opened, revealing Sarah McMillan, eyes red and watery, face as sympathetic as he'd ever seen it. "I'm sorry."
Jon had no idea what had happened, but he could sense that he had the upper hand now, whatever the reason. "Get out of my house." The words were like the valve on a pressure cooker, releasing just enough steam to make sure that Jon didn't explode
And to his greatest surprise, they worked. Sarah slunk meekly out the door, past Jon, down the stairs, and outside. Zoe soon followed, albeit less meekly and in the direction of her own bedroom.
And Jon, for his part, entered his room, slammed the door behind him, dropped himself face-down onto his pillow, and cried. A whole day of trying to stay strong had finally caught up to him.
