Page 57 of Oh, Flutz!

“Katya, I’m sorry. I should’ve been more careful.”

“It’s not your fault.”It’s mine! I want to scream, the sickening feeling building in my chest again.

“You’re kidding, right? If I could land these damn jumps without second-guessing myself every time, we’d be preparing for the competition, not sitting here.”

He’s still not looking at me. Something about how upset he looks makes me narrow my eyes.

If he’s going to be moping, I’m going to have to control myself. We can’t both be freaking out about this, otherwise we’ll never get back on track.

“Get it together, Young. This isn’t going to make it better.” I take a deep breath. “We deal with this. We come back better than before. We destroy everyone who tries to stand in our way.”

I’m half-expecting him to laugh or call me dramatic, but instead, determination slides across his face. “Sounds good to me.”

“Aare you gonna getthe door, or are you just gonna let whoever it is knock forever?”

“Get it yourself!”

“Um, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I can’t exactly move!”

“I’m not about to be your personal chef, your nurse,andyour doorman.”

“Come on, you know I’m very appreciative. And you know what would make me even more appreciative? Answering the damn door!”

“They clearly aren’t going anywhere if they’ve been waiting this long,” I reply, dumping the sliced banana off the cutting board into the cereal bowl.

As if on cue, more knocking ensues.

“Come on, please?”

I can hear him groaning from upstairs, and I huff. “Add this to the long list of things you owe me for.”

“Thank you, sunshine!”

Malenkoye dermo.“Work on your mobility exercises, quit playing video games.” The knocking continues more insistently, and I groan, putting the bowl of granola down and marching to the entryway.

I swing the door open.“What?”

Alexandra is standing there, headphones dangling out of one ear and a sheepish look on her face. “Sorry. I left my keys.”

I let out a laugh despite myself. “Get inside.”

“So? How’s our favorite invalid doing?” the strawberry blonde girl asks, stepping over the threshold and putting her backpack down.

As if on cue, another prolonged groan sounds from upstairs. I give her a look, and she bursts into giggles.

“Sometimes I wish he actually lived at his place.” She starts upstairs, then pauses. “Wanna come up? My Taylor vinyl finally shipped; we can listen if you want.”

I think she likes me.

“Is your brother alwaysthis whiny when he's ill?” I nod in the direction of the door, once we’re safely locked away in Alexandra’s room.

It’s a perfect representation of her personality—twinkle lights everywhere, vinyls of everything from One Direction to The Ramones shelved by a record player, aFearlessposter, a bookshelf overflowing with pastel-colored paperbacks. “Because if so, I may quit now.”

Alexandra sits down after setting the player up,“Fortnight”playing softly in the background, then laughs. “Oh, yeah. When I was seven, I got him sick with chicken pox, and he was so mad at me for it he called me Pinky Pie for a year. You know, since we were both covered in pink spots?” She lets out another giggle. “He might be technically an adult, but I doubt he’s done much maturing since then.”

“Lucky me,” I mutter, and she snorts.

“Just so you know, he’s been less obnoxious than usual since you came around. I’m glad you’re whipping him into shape.”

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