“Not just the lap part.”
Grumbling, she glides back and slides the strap over her upper body. “Dad doesn’t make me wear a seat belt when I’m in the backseat.”
“Well, he should.”
“Yes,Mom.” She rolls her eyes.
Ten’s fingers stiffen around the steering wheel.
“Angie, can you put on some music?” Nev asks.
Even though I’m a little apprehensive to touch anything in Ten’s car, I spin the volume dial, and a terrible, grating song fills the closed space.
“What is this crap?” Nev says.
“Language, Nev.”
“Crapisn’t a bad word.”
I scan through the satellite presets until I locate the pop station.
“Crapisn’t a nice word,” Ten says after some time.
“You say way worse words.”
“Yes, but I’m not a twelve-year-old girl.”
Nev huffs. “You’resooolucky to be an only child, Angie. Older brothers are a pain in the—”
Ten’s gaze jerks to the rearview mirror.
“—bottom,” she finishes.
Ten looks back out his windshield. “Whotakes care of you?”
“I take care of myself.”
“Who drives you around?”
She sticks out her tongue. “Because you and Dad won’t let me get a bike.”
I spin around in my seat. “You asked for a bike?”
She nods just as Ten mutters, “I wonder where she got that idea.”
I gnaw on my bottom lip, feeling guilty, even though I never suggested she get a bicycle.
“Who makes you breakfast every morning?” Ten continues.
I jerk my gaze to Ten. “You make breakfast every morning?”
“Dad doesn’t know how to cook,” Nev explains.
Ten stops at a traffic light and rotates in his seat to face his sister. “So what you’re saying is, it won’t matter if I go to boarding school?”
Nev’s face becomes pinched. “I never said that.”
“Still haven’t decided?” I venture.
