2
________________
The living room is claustrophobically crowded. I’m sprawled on the sofa with my laptop and two measly paragraphs of what’s supposed to be a ten-pager, due in three days. I should be at least the same number of pages deep, but essays aren’t really my thing—especially with the news blasting away in front of me and my parents hissing and spitting a few feet behind me in the kitchen. Not to mention the general clutter of moving boxes and laundry baskets full of random items and cleaning supplies. My house right now isn’t exactly conducive to concentrating.
Dad’s voice is getting whiny and high, the way it does when he’s trying not to yell. “Mary, look, come on. The numbers don’t add up. I’m telling you—”
“Oh my God, you guys!” I jerk around and glare at them over the sof
