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“You said you would make it more fun.”
“It’s math, Mia. There’s not a lot of fun you can have with it.”
“No kidding,” she mumbles.
Now I focus on the school website. It’s quiet as we work in silence, until Mia drops her pencil on the desk. “Done!”
“Really? So fast? I’m impressed.” I reach for her workbook and scan the problems. Then I scowl at her. “You only did one problem.”
“No. I did the last problem. You said they get harder, so it’s logical that the harder problems would be at the bottom. So I just skipped to the bottom.” She beams, quite pleased with herself.
“Mia,” I groan. “You need to doeverysingle problem because they’re all different.”
“Nah, they’re all the same.”
“Why is it so hard for you to apply yourself?”
“Why is it so hard for you to take a shortcut? Live a little, sis. Life’s too short to be so serious.”
“That’s irrelevant. Do you want to do well on your math test?”
“I’ll do well,” she says with way too much confidence. “Got Mom’s brains somewhere in this head of mine.” She takes hold of her head and shakes it. “Ooze out, Charlie Raine Park’s brain.”
“Mia, I have no time for this.”
“Right. You have no time for me. I know that.”
“Am I not wasting my time here with you?”
Her face falls. “Wasting? Gee, thanks.”
“Sorry.” I rub my head. “I didn’t mean waste—”
“No, I get it. School and your app are more important than me. You’re dismissed. Wouldn’t want you towasteany more of your precious time on me.”
“Mia, come on. You know I didn’t mean it.”
“You’re my only sister, you know. Not like I could buy a new one from the store.”
“Nice to know I’m so irreplaceable,” I mutter.
“Here I am,” she says in an overly dramatic tone. “Practically an only child because my sister treats me like I don’t exist.”
“Mia—”
“She doesn’t get how much it hurts.” She makes a fist and hits her heart. “Right in here. And then when I’m on my deathbed, withering away from heartache, my sister will bend over my feeble body and cry, ‘Why? Why didn’t I spend more time with my sister?’ And then poor little me will just…be gone.” She drops out of her chair and falls splat on the floor on her back, her head rolling to the side.
I bend my head to look under the desk. “Get up from the floor.”
Her eyes flash open and she sits up. “What do you think? Was it too much? It was too much, wasn’t it? Okay, let’s do it again. I’ll dial it down.”
“Mia, are you seriously improvising a scene right now?”
“A good actor is always practicing.”
“That’s it! I’ve had it with you. Here I am, putting time and effort to help and you’re throwing it all in my face. You know something? Fail the test. I don’t care. And you can run lines with your stuffed animals.”
“You’re so mean, Willow!”
