What does your mom do, anyway?
He lives a few blocks away.
Cause she’s never here.
That’s not true.
Yeah, my brother says. She just works
a lot. She teaches at the College.
Oh, right. The College, Andy says.
Forgot. What does she do, again?
She teaches Journalism.
So, she shows guys how to write
in a diary?
No, dipstick, my brother says. Journalism.
She teaches them how to investigate
stuff, like how to talk to politicians and write
about regular folks.
And it’s girls-only,
Why do you need someone to show
you how to write about regular folks?
It’s not just…. It’s how to write
for a newspaper, or TIME,
I don’t have time for those
magazines. He holds up the comic
in his lap. Peter Parker is explaining
to Gwen and Harry and everyone
that he’s really Spider-man.
See? It even says, “If you only read
one mag this month….”
What do they even do
over there? Who cares how many
crooked politicians you can talk to?
I clear my throat.
She works real late
because she’s correcting tests.
And those book-comics on the living room table
are our dad’s.
Whatever. I looked a couple times.
There’s no villains. There’s not
even any heroes.
Because they’re special. And one day
he’s going to sell a lot of them
and we’re going to be rich.
What? You’re already are rich.
We’re not rich.
Yeah you are. Look at your house.
Marilyn Andrews; she’s rich.
Brock Livingston; his dad owns half
that big company in Cambridge.
I heard he lives in a mansion
That guy’s rich.
We’re just… middle class.
Whatever. Your house is huge,
you’re rich, and you’re probably all
gonna go to the College
cause your mom’s gonna get you in free.
Except it’s all-girls, I say.
Andy glares at me.
Hey, what do your parents do
He holds my eye so long
I have to look away.