I can’t concentrate at home. I forget that I’m supposed to be mad about not driving, and stop rolling my eyes at Mom when she checks my blood sugar the moment I walk in the door from school. The lack of snark in my life for the past two weeks is starting to be disturbing, but I’m not sure if I have it in me to care. I’m reading way ahead in English now, which isn’t unusual, but I am two books ahead, which means I’m halfway through Alas, Babylon, and we haven’t even had our Faulkner discussion yet. Even Mom says I need to get out more. Jen apologizes for being so busy, but it’s near the end of the school year, and she’s part of prom committee, student government, and Honor Society. Why does she have to be such an overachiever? I’m in Honor Society, but I’m not running around like a mad woman. Oh. And Mom announces that Deena will for sure be spending some time here while her husband, Lane, does some research or school midterms or something. She’ll need to be in my room because Deena’s old room is mom’s sewing room, and then Mom laid on the guilt trip—I know you’re a good sister and won’t mind.
