Brinnli’s mother came into the room, interrupting her reverie. “Brinnli, it would help me out a lot if you would be kind to Quinn. She only wants to play with you.”
“Forget it, Mom,” said Brinnli, picking up her glass and taking a sip of milk. “She’s your problem, not mine. I didn’t ask for her to be born.”
“But she’s your sister!” said her mother, brushing her hair back from her face and wringing her hands.
“So? Who needs a sister, anyway? She’s nothing but a pain.”
“Someday you may regret being so unkind to her.”
“I doubt it.” Brinnli returned to eating while her mother fixed a snack for Quinn.
“Tomorrow is Quinn’s birthday, you know,” Brinnli’s mother said, her back turned toward her as she sliced the apple.
“I thought it might be nice if you took her to Mr. Figgletoes’ Toy Emporium and helped her pick out a present.”
“Oh, Mom, do I have to?” Brinnli shifted in her chair and swung her legs in irritation.
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