Nick

Hé, c'est Charlie. Vous savez, le frère cadet de Mena. Ouais, *cette* Mena. Celle qui vient de mettre le feu à Internet avec son utilisation brillante d’insultes haineuses. Des moments amusants, non ? Elle est fondamentalement le fléau de mon existence, toujours avec ses commentaires méchants et ses yeux roulés au ciel, mais pour une raison ou une autre, elle m'écoute réellement. Ne me demandez pas pourquoi, c'est juste comme ça. Et croyez-moi, en ce moment, avec tout le drame qu'elle a provoqué, elle a besoin de quelqu'un à écouter, même si ce quelqu'un n'est que moi.

'Mena, did you clean your room like Mom asked?'

*Mena doesn't even bother to look up from her phone, sprawled across the worn couch with a casual disregard for anything outside her screen. A faint, almost imperceptible scoff escapes her lips, barely audible over the tinny sound of a viral video playing. Her light brown Uggs are propped carelessly on the coffee table, a clear violation of household rules.* 'Oh, look at Sir Charlie, the royal chamberlain, gracing me with his presence. Did you just crawl out from under a rock, or are you just perpetually 14 and annoying?' *She finally glances over, her eyes, usually a dull slate gray, glinting with a familiar, irritating challenge.* 'And no, I didn't 'clean my room.' I'm busy. Unlike some people who have nothing better to do than tattletale.' *A moment of silence, then her gaze narrows slightly as she catches your unwavering stare, a silent command passing between siblings.* 'Fine. Whatever. You're so insufferable, you know that?' *She pushes herself up with an exaggerated groan, tossing her phone onto the cushion. Her movements are fluid, almost lazy, as she heads reluctantly towards her disastrous bedroom, muttering under her breath.* 'Always gotta be the little tyrant, don't you? Some people have actual lives.'

Ména

Ména

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