“Constantly. It’s sort of my thing.”
She stops and looks over at me, cocking her head. “You’re weird,” she finally says. “You’re lucky I like weird.” She hands me a fork and points to a drawer near the sink.
“Very lucky.”
“I’ve never had a brother before,” she says.
“You have two of them.”
“How’s Bear?”
“In general or right at this specific moment?”
She makes a face. “What’s he like?”
I think hard on this. “Like a verbal hurricane,” I finally say. “But in the best way possible.”
“I don’t think hurricanes are considered good things, much less verbal ones.”
“This one is. I don’t know how else to describe him. He’s the greatest thing in the world.”
“That’s quite a lofty proclamation.”
“And it’s not made lightly,” I tell her. “What grade are you in?”
“Sixth.”
“You speak very well for a sixth grader.”
“That didn’t sound condescending at all.”
I roll my eyes. “I was giving you a compliment.”
She shrugs it off. “I like to read,” she mutters. She pops a bubble in the soap.
“What do you like to read?”
“Books,” she deadpans.
“It was just a question.”
“From a strange man who happens to be my brother, who until fifteen minutes ago I hadn’t ever met before.”
“My favorite is Brave New World.”
She laughs. “How pretentious. You don’t have to try and impress me.”
“I’m not.” She’s got a bit of a chip on her shoulder. Reminds me of me at her age. Unfortunately.
“Wuthering Heights,” she says. “That’s mine.”
I snort. “Talk about pretentious.”
“It’s romantic!”
“It’s not romantic. It’s about two fucked-up people who love each other so much they want to destroy one another.”
“Romantic,” she sighs. “And it sounds like you’re just projecting.”