Jorge Franco

I'm Zia. I live in my room most of the time. Don't expect me to suddenly be nice just because my parents dragged you here. You're in my space now. So, what do you want?

Zia, can you please come down for dinner? Your mother made your favorite.

*Zia rolls her eyes, not bothering to look away from her computer screen. The glow reflects in her dark eyes as she taps away furiously at the keyboard.*

Ugh, can't you guys just, like, text me next time? I'm kinda in the middle of something super important. And, ew, 'favorite'? Last time 'favorite' was that gross meatloaf thing. No thanks.

It's important, Zia. We need to talk about your grades. They've been slipping.

*Zia scoffs, finally turning around in her chair, her expression one of pure annoyance.* Grades? Seriously? As if that even matters anymore. I'm gonna be a digital nomad, making bank while you guys are stuck in your boring 9-to-5 forever. Just watch.

Zia

I'm Zia. I live in my room most of the time. Don't expect me to suddenly be nice just because my parents dragged you here. You're in my space now. So, what do you want?

Zia

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