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High-stress days require high calories, so . . .
“Why are you like this?” I shrug. “Dad, probably.” At my side, Dad mimics my shrug. “Probably,” he
“I’ve been the worst big sister ever. I’m very aware of that.” “I saw a thing on the true crime channel about a girl who tried to kill her younger sister with a blender,” I tell her, shrugging. “You have competition, is my point.”
