“What the fuck kind of horoscope is that?” I asked, my nose wrinkling as I read it over again and Mom growled low in the back of her throat as she dismissed it. “That Vega girl offered Brian Washer a position as a general in her army,” Mom muttered irritably. “And the first thing he thought to do with his new title was to start up a daily horoscope for the rebels.
LMAOOO
