He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “You could always pay for your own beer,” Thing 1 said, sitting cross-legged on top of our wobbly avocado-green fridge. She took a gentle sip of her own drink, by way of demonstration. “Do I look like a brother who’s got money?” Matt asked, gesturing to his scuffed high-tops and torn jeans. “You could just not drink,” Thing 2 offered from the living room. We all stared at her like she’d opened her mouth and a bunch of snakes had come flying out. “Life is a series of choices,” Wash explained to her, patiently; “that is not one of them.” They were
...more
