Page 57 of We Shouldn't Be Together
“A few minutes doesn’t make you my older brother,” Milo argues.
“And what about the inch I have on you?”
Fury lights behind Milo’s glasses. “Who’s fault is that? If you didn’t need to be Mr. Big-shot wherever we go—including the womb—I wouldn’t have lost an inch or have an inner ear imbalance.”
“Okay, okay, cool it,” Mom blurts, wrapping an arm around Milo’s shoulders. “I hate when you two fight. It’s no one’s fault what happened before you weren’t even born. I need you both to drop it.”
“Tell him to drop it!” Milo complains, pointing at me. “He can’t let anything go.”
I turn my back on him, placing items into the pantry. “Already forgotten. What was your name again?”
Milo groans behind me. “No one believes you. You wouldn’t obsess over conspiracy theory nonsense if you could let things go.”
I slam the last can of black beans on the shelf and turn around, ready to fire back at him, but Mom lifts a palm. She shoves Milo with the other hand. “Go and find Alfie. Have you fed him yet?”
Milo dawdles out of the room, muttering to himself.
“Dinner will be in thirty minutes,” Mom calls out to him. She then tilts her head in my direction. “Stop antagonizing your brother.”
I fold my arms. “Excuse me? Do you not hear how he jabs me?”
“You pick at things that hurt him. No more teasing him about his coordination, or lack thereof.”
I shrug. “Whatever.”
“I mean it, Kai.”
“You should stop coddling him.”
“You did not just say that.” She points to the doorway leading into the dining area. “Go and do something productive before dinner. And I’ll be with you the next time you drive a car.”
I salute her and leave the kitchen. “Hooray.”
I bound back upstairs and crash on the couch, ready to pick up my game mission. When I pick up the controller, I glance at my phone.
Oh, right.
Tabitha.
I remember what Milo said about choosing an experiment. Something that involves sitting around and not needing to talk might be a good option.
I toss the controller onto the couch cushion and scoop up my phone.
"What about a time experiment?"I text."We watch for changes in chemicals when we add or take away other chemicals. It’s something that only involves the practical element in class where we have the supplies. Outside of class, we’d have the theoretical part to work on. If we need to discuss it, I see no reason we can’t do it via text."
She has to agree to that.
My foot taps against the carpet.
Right. Why wouldn’t she agree?
My fingers jitter around the edge of my phone.
Maybe because every time we talk, we argue.
My heart drops to a low beat.
She’s not gonna agree because I suggested it.
