Besides, I’m doing important work on my beloved computer. I have to keep up with my web ‘zine. Spots is one of the premier online magazines and I intend to make my living off of it when I graduate next year. Of course, my family doesn’t understand that. My dad read it once and promptly forgot how to access it, no matter how many times I explain it to him. I’ve never shown it to my mom because I know if she would read it, it would become an obsession and not work out well. As for my sisters and brothers, well, they know about it, but Ember’s the only one who actually reads it. Christian’s too much of a monumental stiff to ever want to read something his liberal kid sister writes, and god know how often Annemarie gets near a computer. Maybe Marx will read it when he gets older. Or maybe he’ll just continue to be his weird self and do things like read off the contents of every sign we pass.
I stop typing and exhale loudly. “God, Marx, will you quit it? I’m trying to concentrate here!”