“And I bet you’re about to tell me—hey! What are you doing? That’s mine.” She flies at me in a rush, but I climb up onto my knees, angling myself away from her so she can’t snatch the book back. “What is this?” I ask, stiff-arming her with my hand pressed into her forehead, holding her back. “I can’t believe you!” she screeches, swatting at me with her kitten claws. “You’re not twelve, Zax. What kind of move is this?”
