You get good marks.
In fact, you get straight A’s.
You really didn’t have to tell her I wasn’t doing well.
At least, many years ago, I thought brothers were supposed to be fricking fun. They keep secrets. They cover for you.
You can’t keep a secret. At all. It has nothing to do with you.
Seriously, who’d go into the trouble of telling her that I’m going to school to post up logos.
It has nothing. Nothing to do with you. You didn’t have to tell her. It’s not even important.
And then I have to explain to my mom about this fucking website.
At least you can try to fucking keep a secret.
You don’t lie. That’s great.
Then don’t let her know. Gosh.
Why the frick would she have asked you about it if you hadn’t told her?
You’re brilliant. Smart. You’re disciplined. Hardworking.
And I respect that.
But you’re the worst brother ever.