“This is genuinely insulting,” I say to Warner. “You think I don’t know how to handle myself? I’m twenty-one years old. You were two years younger than me when you led a fucking revolution—” “Language!” Kenji says gleefully, grinning as he rips open a bag of potato chips. “—and everyone around here still treats me like I’m a child. I’m not a child. Maybe you didn’t notice, but I grew up a long time ago. Maybe it’s time you stopped treating me like I don’t know how to wipe my own ass—”
