Angelo’s voice booms through the foyer. “All right, that’s it.” He appears in the doorway of the living room, bringing in cold air and animosity with him. “I’ve put up with a week of this shit; now get up.” I glance at him. Pop the gummy in my mouth. “Nah, I’m good.” I turn to Rory. “Plot twist: I think it’s watermelon.” “Ooh,” she squeals, digging around in the candy pile for one.
