Sorry I was called out of town and just got home.
Remember this is a single title and it was written between 2000-2005.
Here is a bit more:
Character 1: "No, jerkweed."
Character 2: "Listen, call you back. My sister's being a pest, so I have to kill her. Yeah. Later." He hung up, stuffed taco chips in his mouth. "Who's coming over, for what?"
Character 1: "The woman Dad's sleeping with is coming over to fix dinner."
Character 2: "Yeah?" ****'s voice brightened. "Like on the stove?"
Character 1: "Don't you get it?" Disgusted, she waved the note. "It's a tactic. She's trying to squeeze in."
Character 2: "Hey, anybody wants to squeeze into the kitchen who can actually cook is fine with me. What's she making?"
Character 1: "It doesn't matter what she's making. How can you be so slow? She's pushing it to the next level. Cooking for him, for us. Showing him what a big, happy family we can be."
Character 2: "I don't care what she's doing, as long as I get to eat. Get off it, *****. I mean get --off--it. Dad's entitled to have a girlfriend."
Character 1: "Moron. I don't care if he's got ten girlfriends. What are we going to do if he decides he wants a wife?"
Character 2: ****considered it, crunched on more chips. "I dunno."
Character 1: "'I dunno,'" she mocked. "She'll start changing the rules, start taking over. That's what happens. She's not going to care about us. We're just add-ons."
Character 2: "Mrs. *********'s cool."
Character 1: "Sure now. She's sweet and nice. When she gets what she wants, she won't have to be sweet and nice and cool. She can start telling us what to do, and what not to do. It'll all have to be her way.
She turned her head as she heard the kitchen door open.
Character 1:"See, she's just walking right in. This is our house."
***** stomped to her room, slammed the door. She intended to stay there until her father got home.
She made it an hour. She could hear the music from downstairs, the laughter. It was infuriating to hear her brother's horsey laugh. The traitor. It was more infuriating that no one came up for her, or tried to talk her out of her sulks.
So she'd show them she didn't care, either way.
She wandered down, nose in the air. Something smelled really good, and that was just another strike against ***** in *****'s mind. She was just showing off, that was all. Making some big, fancy dinner.
When she walked into the kitchen, she had to grit her teeth. **** was at the kitchen table, banging on his electric keyboard while ***** stood stirring something at the stove.
Character 3: "You need to add lyrics," ***** said.
He liked playing his music for her. She listened. When he played her something that sucked, she said so. Well in a nice way, **** thought. That kind of thing told him she was paying attention, real attention.
Their mother never had. To much of anything.
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