“This one’s my grandmother’s,” I tell him as I hurl a snowball of paper and ribbons. “For pressuring me to wear her veil even though she could tell I didn’t like it, and for suggesting I might be too old to bear children.” I land my shot and Nicholas cheers. “Suck it, Edith! You’re officially uninvited!” “This one’s your brother’s,” he replies, swinging an arm around like a baseball pitcher and letting it fly. It misses its mark by a mile and ends up in the road. “I know you stole my sunglasses, Aaron!” “I can’t wait to throw your mom’s.” “Oh, please, let me. I’ve earned it.”
