The family has moved to a towering old house – not just parents and sisters, but the sister’s husbands, and the husbands’ sisters, and Adam and Cris and some of their friends too. Everything has something to do with it; we have cliques and node-turfs for quit-smoking, pot-smoking, gay and lesbian, RPG-ing... We drive up to the new home, perhaps through some badlands or a painted desert, maybe through vine-hung, morning-fog coastal Southern towns, and my driving is shaky but acceptable. My sister does not insist I pull over and let her drive. By the time I get to the house, I am alone. I poke through dresser drawers and cabinets for pot and money. I smoke a little, alone, then a couple of sisters join me. Adam offers Goldschlager all around, but my glass is already full of cheap schnapps. I’d prefer the Goldschlager but wouldn’t it be rude to waste the schnapps just to consume his liquor? Then we all are gathered around a long wooden table, like a sturdy picnic table. I know who he is, one of the Everything clique, I have seen him around but haven’t interacted much personally. He has seemed nice enough. Alone now, we play Tag on the tabletop and suddenly we are on the ground, I am on my back and he has conveniently fallen to land, kneeling, astride me. A clean 80’s preppy haircut, clothes not worth remembering, his face is a synthesis of half-a-dozen boys and men I could objectively call attractive. He quietly asks, “Who’s It?” I have long suspected he prefers men, and although I generally don’t, I know this time I will make an exception. Lost in his eyes, I can only breathe “I am It, baby, I am IT...”