April 18, 2011 at 5 PM, Fort Worth, TX: Preston

"Just remember to stop eating long enough to say hi to everyone, okay?" Daka says slowly, patting my shoulder as I bring another platter of appetizers to the dining room. I stick my tongue out at him and I head back into the kitchen to see if Mom needs any more help. I can see him behind me in the mirror with that smarmy smirk on his stupid face. He thinks he's so perfect just because he's in the Navy, but guess what? He's still just a big crybaby brat who can't even make himself breakfast so he still lives at home even though he's twenty-one. At least Sam moved out and is man enough to not rub everything in everyone else's faces all the time. "Do you need me to do anything else?"

"Uh... You could pour the drinks, if you don't mind? Just get pop for all the kids and I'll take care of the grown-ups. After that, I think you're free to go." Mom gives me a sideways hug and goes back to carrying the huge plates of cut fruit over to the dining room so the relatives won't try to eat each other while dinner cooks. She always goes all-out for Passover to the point it puts Thanksgiving and Hanukkah and Christmas all to shame. Mom's an absolute monster at cooking and everyone always volunteers her to cook because she refuses to use anything from boxes or cans. I guess I get my stubbornness from her.

"'Kay. I got it." I hunt through the pantry for the big pack of red Solo cups so I won't be stuck doing dishes with Keeley and Caleb for the next six years and I start pouring a butt ton of Sprite. After the Coke Tsunami of 2010 in the living room, Coke is no longer allowed at parties so everyone has to put up with carbonated pee. I look through the doorway and I see Sam floating around the living room shaking hands and hugging people and I wish I could be in his place. This job sucks and I'm gonna end up doing it all freaking night, but Sam and Daka and Keeley get out of doing shrimp like this because they're 'special.' Out of the three, Keeley makes me the maddest because she's freaking younger than me! Like what the crap?

Well, that's not the whole story. She made first chair violin this year and everyone wants to talk to her about it. But no one wants to talk to me about YouTube except the kids and they don't really count. Then Sam's all grown up now and he's getting married in the fall so everyone wants to talk to him. And Dak's all special and fabulous because he's in the Navy and just finished his training so he can work in their offices until he gets assigned a unit. Caleb and Josh just disappeared like they always do at holidays because all they wanna do is eat and play Zelda with Derek and Jon and I don't blame 'em. So now it's just me, here in the kitchen with the bottles upon bottles of pop and nobody wants to talk to me until they want something to drink and they have to walk by me. No one cares what I did this year or about all the stuff I've accomplished and it just freakin' sucks, okay? So what if I'm a little salty about it!

I'm never gonna be special like the other three and even Josh's more popular than I am. I've heard a couple people ask Mom where he was but no one's bothered asking about me even though I'm older than him and I'm sitting right here. He got invited to some kind of GATE program for next year and everyone's all proud of him. Now it's just me and ADHD Caleb battling for the title of 'Least Favorite Child' and I think I'm gonna win the gold medal.

Sam was valedictorian in high school, Daka's in the Navy, Keeley's good at the violin, and Josh's going to a special school next year. No one cares about my A's and B's and good-but-not-perfect test scores and my run-of-the-mill awards, and definitely no one cares about my YouTube career and my 48-hour streaming marathon in June and my amazing friends and the two hundred thousand subs I just earned on my Minecraft channel. No one cares about any of that except me and kinda Mom and Dad. They try to be proud of me but they don't know how to because I'm not as great as their other kids. All I want is to be the best for once, to be better than the other five and be the one everyone's talking about just for a little while. Is that such a bad thing?

If everyone's ignoring me now when I'm doing everything right, what're they gonna do when I tell them I'm not gonna go to college? They keep telling me YouTube isn't a real job and I'm gonna end up living at home forever because I'm never gonna make enough money to do anything with my life. They want me to get rid of my channels and take out a butt ton of loans to get a job I know I won't like a millionth as much as I like YouTube. There's no way in the seven Nethers I'm giving up YouTube to go to boring classes to get a boring degree to get a boring desk job to live a boring life in a boring apartment surrounded by boring people who have equally boring lives. Heck no. I'd rather be nuking noobs on COD and lava bucket-ing plebs in Sky Wars and going to conventions where people actually care about what I did in the last year and remember my name isn't 'Prestad.'

 I miss Rob and the other guys. I wish he wasn't so busy this week or I'd pull a Caleb and jump on Skype with him and record something. Anything to get out of this crap. I bet no one'd even notice I'm gone. I pour a big cup of Sprite and chug it down to kill the taste of saltiness in my mouth. One of my cousins sticks her head in the room to look for something to drink, sees me sitting here, and just walks away.

Now I'm not even good enough to pour pop, huh? I pull my phone out of my pocket and check to see if Rob answered my last text but no such luck. I'm stuck here by myself in a house full of people who all think I'm a loser.

"This freakin' sucks."

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April 18, 2011 at 7 PM, Montreal, Quebec: Rob

'I hope Preston is having a better time tonight than I am.' I duck into the kitchen to avoid Aunt Debra the Downer and Sandy Snake-Eyes, pretending to be looking for something under the counter farthest from the door. I hear the door open, then close a few seconds later as they move on, hoping to have better luck somewhere else. After nearly a month with no depression, insomnia, or financial troubles, it seems that Passover at Debra's house is going to be the end of my good luck streak. I like to think that I'm a pretty patient guy, but the party only started an hour ago and I'm already at the end of my rope. If they continue stalking me like this, I swear I will run out the front door so fast I won't have time to see Mom's glare or Dad's smirk. I am so done right now I feel like the lamb roasting in the oven.

'You can't seriously expect to hide here forever. This is just pathetic.' I sigh and peek over the top of the counter before I slowly stand back up. I feel like a little kid hiding from the Boogeyman, except this nightmare is real with lasting consequences. I decide to go out the door I came in through, expecting them to be lurking around the one they just checked. I make a break for the barstool in the shadowy corner next to the fireplace, hoping to stay hidden there for just a little while. 'If I had been smart, I would have grabbed some food from the kitchen before escaping. As Jerome would say, I am not the sharpest tool in the shed.' I relax against the brown stone wall and enjoy the warmth from the fire and the odor of Uncle Benny's scented cigar. He is slouched in an ancient rocking chair next to the door, munching on a celery stick with the remains of a halo of smoke circling around his bald head. With any luck at all, the stench of his cigars will drive Debra and Sandy far, far away from me. At this point, I would be content eating the smoke for dinner if it meant enjoying a little peace. I slip my phone out of my pocket and reply to the text Preston sent me earlier:

Perst<3n: you know its called Passover bc they all pass right over me -_-'

Me: Only because they don't want to make everyone else jealous. ;)

'I wish I could swap places with you, man. This game of hide-and-seek fucking sucks.' Preston is a glory-seeker if I have ever seen one, even worse than Mitch, and he takes it very personally when others don't recognize his accomplishments or they upstage him. He lives entirely off of chocolate milk and other people's praise, and I'm firmly convinced that the Gulf of Mexico was formed by all of his salty tears of disappointment from his childhood. I feel sorry for him, I really do, but he seems to think that being in the spotlight is significantly better than being on the sidelines. Honestly, it isn't.

"Pssst. Watch yourself," Uncle Benny hisses from his chair, his wise old eyes wide under his white, bushy eyebrows. He nods behind him and I feel my face wrinkle up in disgust. I can hear her high heels clicking on the wooden floor around the corner and I just want to run far, far away. I knew I shouldn't have moved back to Montreal, and I should have listened to myself instead of Mom for once in my life. I shove myself farther back against the mantle and hope for the best.

"Well, I have no idea where he went. Did you check upstairs?" Debra asks, her back turned to me as she rearranges her bouncy black curls, entirely ignoring the old man rocking in her creaky chair. I swear to cater to Uncle Benny's every whim for the rest of the night if he doesn't give my hiding spot away.

"Yes. Why are we still doing this, Deb?"

"Come here for a minute. Come on." She looks around the main room quickly and ushers Sandy past us into the kitchen, then shuts the door behind her. I hear her put her back against the door so no one can enter. Uncle Benny snaps another piece off of his celery and shakes the stick in my direction, the familiar crooked Latsky smile on his face. We're sitting only about a meter from the door and I can hear them arguing in the kitchen, their voices quickly rising from whispers to shouts. "You know this is all for the best, Sandy. Why do you have to make this so unpleasant?"

"Why do I have to make it unpleasant? Why did you pick the most unpleasant guy in the world and try to shove him down my throat? Huh?"

"You know he isn't that bad. He just needs a little... work. It could be much worse, you know."

"A little work? He needs a little work? He's a fucking nutcase, Deb! His parents already locked him up at the psych hospital twice, and he makes videos of himself for a living! For kids! How in the hell do you fix that? Pray, tell me." My face feels as hot as the fire crackling next to me and I just want to walk away now before it escalates any farther. I want to go back home and order Thai food while I watch the rest of the second season of 'Hoarders' on Netflix. If nothing else, that show makes me feel a little better about my personal brand of crazy.

"I told you, he takes medication and he hasn't tried to kill himself again. I heard he straightened his life out, and if he hasn't, he has life insurance and he would make a nice paperweight for your desk. Not just that, but he makes three times as much money as you do without even trying. You won't find that on a dating website, Sweets."

"You know, you're right. I can find guys I can actually stand to look at on dating websites. What a shame that doesn't matter in the real world!"

"Now I know he isn't your type but..."

"No, this is way beyond not being my 'type.' We've gone past that into a whole different dimension of fugly. He is a complete loser and he looks like fucking Hermione Granger with his bushy brown hair and yellow buck teeth!" My hand flies up to try to flatten my hair and it just springs right back up, like it always does. This is nothing I hadn't heard before from Nessa, but it still hurts. I know I'm not attractive, smart, or even mentally stable, and I've accepted that I will either settle for an unhappy marriage or die alone. However, this isn't something I want Sandy to be screaming at a party for the rest of the family to hear.

"You aren't listening to me. Things like that can be fixed with a little love and a little money. He would be out of your way, working on his computer all day or collecting dust on a shelf, and you could open up that restaurant you always talk about. That would be worth it, wouldn't it?"

"What would be worth it? Looking at him, or screwing him?" There is silence for a few seconds, but I have heard enough. I wish I could channel Preston for five minutes and just put an end to all of this matchmaking bullshit once and for all, but I will never be brave like him, no matter how appalling these people are. When I am reduced to an urn on a bookshelf or a means to an end, I have no business being here. I slowly get to my feet and dig my wallet out, shuffling through the bills until I find the crisp, red fifty note.

"You didn't see or hear anything, alright?" I fold the bill in half and hand it to Uncle Benny, and he grins and nods vehemently as he tucks the money into his shirt pocket with his cigar tin.

"Sure thing, Robbie boy. Chag kasher v'same'ach!"

"You, too, sir. I'll see you in December."

'If I bother showing up.' He starts nodding again as he gnaws on a new celery stick, and he waves as I walk toward the front of the house. I search around for Dad, hoping he'll let me steal his car for a few hours until he decides he has had enough, too. I was never very religious, and I would rather spend Passover in a Tim Horton's or a McDonald's than here - and I plan to do just that. I skirt past the room where Mom is talking to her sister and find Dad reclining on a couch in Deb's hideous craft room, a glass of white wine in his hand as he stares out the window into the dark backyard. I can still see the tan line where his wedding band used to be, but all of that is in the past. I have no problem with my parents' divorce; in fact, they could live on different planets if it would make them happy.

"Dad, can I kidnap your car for a while?" He looks back at me with a smart assed grin on his face, like he was waiting all evening for me to appear.

"You've had your fill already? What did Deb do this time?"

"She said enough. I've had enough. I'm done." His smile falters a little as he stands up. He looks more sympathetic, but still cocky. I love him to death but there are times when I wish he would stop being such a troll. I hold out my hand for the keys, but he grasps it and shakes it before stepping back and chuckling.

"You know, if you leave your mom is going to come down on my head for giving you the car."

"You aren't giving me the car - I only want to borrow it for a little while." I glance around for Mom and Deb, and my eyes fall on our reflections in the dark window. Our faces have broken into identical conspiratorial smiles, our reflections so eerily similar it is like someone had cloned him at an earlier age and just knocked a couple of screws loose. I can see the gears turning in his head as he takes a sip of wine, weighing the pros and cons of granting my request. "You can call me whenever you want to go, and there will be a box of Timbits waiting for you." He looks tempted but guilty, and I know I have him in a corner now.

"What about tomorrow? You promised you would help us pack up the house and move my crap to the condo."

"I will. I never said I was bailing completely, and a promise is a promise. I'll drive us back to your place after you get tired of running away from Deb."

"Your mom is going to absolutely murder me."

"I'll bring flowers and Timbits to your funeral." He grins but his eyes never blink, like he is trying to calculate whether or not a box of fried desserts is worth taking my place in the game of cat-and-mouse.

"No can do, Robbie. Deb will be trying to marry Snake-Eyes off on me next. You're on your own."

"Car or no car, I'm leaving. I would rather walk the five kilometers in the cold than hear myself being roasted here. The car gets you two boxes of Timbits, walking gets you a guilt trip. What will it be, Daddy-O?" He takes a long sip of wine before he nods slowly, looking around guiltily as he fishes his keys out of his pocket and hands them to me. "Thank you, thank you. I love you."

"You should be saying 'I'm sorry.' If you loved me you wouldn't be doing this to me." He gives me his sorrowful puppy eyes in a last-ditch effort to get me to stay, but I am already walking backward away from him.

"I'm sorry, truly." I shoot him one last grin before I hurry toward the front door, keys jingling merrily in my pocket now. I can see the front door now, only two meters away. I can see my shadow reflected in the doorknob now, I can almost touch it...

"Robbie?" I freeze and grit my teeth, my arm jutting out at an awkward angle as I slowly turn around to face the owner of the voice. Behind me is the usual hoard of kids dressed up in little dresses and tuxedos, and each and every one of them is staring up at me accusingly. "What are you doing?"

"Oh, Dad left something out in the car and he asked me to get it for him. What are all of you doing?" Some of them seem to buy it, but the majority can see right through my lie. This is the worst time to be such a terrible liar.

"We were looking for you all night. We wanted to give you our lists." Andy holds out a big, white envelope with my name scribbled on it in glittery blue gel pen and I try not to laugh at the absurdity of it all.

"It seems a little early to be making gift lists, doesn't it? Today is Passover, guys. Hanukkah is seven months away."

"It might take you a while to get this stuff," Hanna answers, a shy smile on her face. I carefully take the envelope from Andy, glancing around quickly to see if Deb or Mom has found me yet. I open the letter and skim the first page of the list. I try hard to stifle my laughter, but some of it still forces its way out.

"You want Benja t-shirts? All of you?" This honestly has to be one of the most hilarious things I have seen this year. Jerome is going to have an absolute fucking conniption fit when he sees my order for this many shirts. With any luck, they might give me a bulk discount.

"Not just any Benja t-shirts. We want the new limited edition 'In Benja We Trust' t-shirts, and the matching poster signed by the BenjandBac and you," Andy corrects matter-of-factly as the others nod in complete agreement.

"And Pearston the Pleb, ya cactus!" Garrett yells in a bad Southern accent as he jumps up and down.

'I need to get out of here before I crack up and draw attention to myself. I can laugh about this later with Preston; just make it to the car now.'

"I'll look through all of this tonight and talk to Mitch, but right now Dad is waiting for me to get back." The younger kids look content, and the older ones look at me knowingly as the crowd begins to disperse. I slide the envelope into the inside pocket of my suit jacket and hurriedly open the door, hoping to make it to the car before anyone decides to follow me out here to try to change my mind. I throw open the car door and jump in, thrusting the keys in the ignition before I even close the door. I speed away from the house, buckling the seat belt only when I stop at the street corner. I sigh in relief as I glance behind me in the mirror and see that no one bothered to come outside.

'Darryl had the right idea all along. I'm free at last, and I am never going back.'

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April 18, 2011 at 8 PM, Fort Worth, TX: Preston

I take my sweet time walking back to the dining room when Mom finally calls us to eat dinner and I realize how bad I screwed up as soon as I get there. The only spot left is right smack in the middle of the kid's table and Daka's sitting catty-corner from my chair, only one person away. If I was invited to dinner with the devil, I'm pretty sure this's what it'd look like. I'm stuck between the twin terrors Daniel and Ethan with their sister Tori sitting across the table from me with that evil little smile of hers. For just being eight years old she's a real pain in the butt. I pretend not to see her and put my cup down on the table before I try to untangle my folding chair from the others around it.

"Hi, Preston," she says all innocent as she taps her fork on the table while we wait for someone to say the prayer.

"Hi." I'm still trying not to look at her and her hellfire red hair but this isn't gonna end well for me and I know it.

"I like your videos, Preston."

"You do? I'm glad you like 'em." She has something planned, I can feel it. Mom thinks I'm paranoid but this little girl is pure evil.

"I like the ones with Jerome and Rob. They're funny."

"Yep. The Bacca's really something."

"I really like Rob."

"Yep."

"Do you like Rob?" She's looking at me with those sneaky little black eyes of hers and it feels like I have a mini-Jerome deciding the fate of my soul. Maybe that's why she likes him so much.

"Of course I like Rob."

"Why?"

"Because he's my best friend and I like working with him."

"Why?"

"Because he's funny and fun to hang out with."

"Why?" Isn't she getting too old for this bull shrimp? Is she really gonna do this all night?

"Because he knows a lot of good jokes."

"Why?"

"Because he's smart."

"Why?"

"Because he went to college."

"Why?"

"I don't know."

"Why?"

"Because I'm stupid." Ethan and Daniel start snickering and I wonder how many other people are listening to this pointless conversation.

"Why?"

"Because I was born that way." She takes a break for a few minutes while Dad leads the prayer and everyone fights like savages over the best food in the universe. I'm kinda disappointed no one started crying this year, though.

"Do you really like Rob?"

"Yes, I really like Rob. I already told you, he's my best friend and we work together all the time."

"Do you really, really like Rob? Like, do you love him?" Okay, no. This's getting too weird and the last thing I want right now is for Dak to hear her and start in on me, too.

"I love him like a brother but that's it."

"So you love Rob."

"Like a brother. That's the only way I love him."

"That's not what you say in your videos." I have to keep it together and not get too ticked off. She's just trying to get me to yell at her so I get in trouble. That's all she wants from me. Just eat some food and let it go.

"Because it's just a video and it's funny. That's just how we joke around."

"Rob loves you. He says it all the time." She keeps on smiling while I try to eat my food. She's making me lose my appetite with this crap and it's ruining the best meal of the whole freakin' year.

"He's just jokin' around, Tori. Trust me, I know him better than you do."

"Because you love him and he loves you. That's what 'Poofless' means." My jaw locks in place and I stare right back into her little rat eyes. We can't get into this at the dinner table with Dak and all these other people listening. That could only end in more teasing I don't wanna deal with. I ignore her for a little while and she just sits there and stares at me while we eat. Daniel and Ethan are watching me now, too, and it's scary quiet in our corner of the room. My phone vibrates in my pocket and it's so loud everyone around me can hear it, too. "Is that Rob? Do you miss him?" I just wanna tape her mouth shut.

"I miss Mitch and Jerome and Kenny, too. I have other friends I miss."

"But not as much as you miss Rob. When you get old are you gonna marry him?" This kid's seriously screwing with my stomach and I know I'm at least as red as the bottle of wine on the counter.

"No. We're just friends. We're only ever gonna be friends."

"Why?"

"Because we only wanna marry girls."

"Why?"

"Because we only like girls."

"Why?"

"Because boys are only supposed to like girls."

"Why?"

"Because that's just how it is."

"Why?"

"Because God made us that way and He knows what's best." That stops her again for a little while and I get to enjoy my food in peace and quiet while Dad laughs loudly at someone's joke at the head of the table. I hate sitting with the kids. How did Mom and Dad deal with having so many freakin' evil little psycho kids? I can't stand three for an hour - how'd they deal with six for so many years?

"Rob's kinda like a girl," Tori says out of the blue and Ethan and Daniel start snorting in their mashed potatoes. "He likes flowers and pretty things and he said he thinks you're cute. And he's Jewish."

I just wanna stick my head in the bowl of gravy and drown. It'd be a good way to die and Daka'd be happy because he could write a fat joke on my tombstone.

"Rob is... He's different and he has a weird sense of humor and he just happens to like flowers. That doesn't mean I wanna marry him, okay? We're just friends and we only like each other as friends, and that's the end of that."

"If you don't like him then why do you make out with him?" I'm so red right now I'm seriously sweating and I don't even know why this is pissing me off so much. I deal with stuff like this in the comments all the time but as soon as it comes out of Tori's squeaky, toothless mouth it just makes me angrier than sin. Since when was Tori the captain of the Poofless ship?

"I don't make out with him. It's just a joke. It's all just a joke. That's why it's funny."

"Who are you making out with this time, Pressy?" Daka sneers as he sticks a chunk of meat in his big ugly mouth. Why couldn't they've assigned him to a unit in Japan or somewhere on Uranus where he belongs? "Are you talking about your little YouTube boyfriend again?"

"He isn't my boyfriend."

"His name's Rob," Tori adds with a satisfied little smirk. I really, really, really don't like this kid right now. "He made Preston a nice big house and put flowers in it and everything." Daka raises his eyebrows and he gets that look in his eyes that means he isn't gonna let it drop.

"Flowers, huh? Did he get you a nice, fluffy bed, too?"

"No, they already had a bed. But Rob got him a big red car so the color would match all his red lava stuff in the house." Can't she just shut up already?

"Goin' right for the big boys, huh? He got you a car and a house so you'd be his boyfriend?" A couple other people are looking at us now and I just wanna go back to pouring pop in the corner with no one to talk to.

"He is not my boyfriend. We just joke around a lot in our videos."

"He is too! That's why you're called 'Poofless' and you make videos together every single day!" Is Tori actually convinced or is she just being a huge troll? How many other people really think I'm dating Rob?

"Now what in the hell is a 'Poofless?' It sounds pretty queer to me, Pressy." Daka's the last person in the world I wanna be explaining this to and I was hoping he'd never find out about that stupid ship name. I wish I could just beat him in the head with the gravy ladle and get second degree murder and be done with it.

"It's our usernames combined. We play a lot of team games and it's just what the computer calls us." It's sorta true, but I'd rather try to explain 'Poofless' than 'TBNRless' and hear him make crotch jokes all night.

"You know what a 'poof' is, right? You're gonna go around calling yourself that and get mad when people call you queer? Did Rob eat your face and your balls?"

"Hey, hey! Don't talk like that in front of the kids!" Mom hisses and she sends a death glare at Daka while she points her fork at him. "Leave your brother alone and let everyone eat in peace."

"You mean pieces? You forgot we're talking about Preston here." Now he's really just pissing me off. If I wouldn't get in an epic poop ton of trouble later I'd push his face into his food and leave. But no, I hafta sit here and listen to him take jabs at me and there's nothing I can do about it until later. He freakin' ruins everything.

"Daka. Watch it. You're toeing the line, kiddo," Mom warns and she looks like she means business for once. "Stop calling your brother fat."

"Yeah, there's nothin' wrong with havin' a little meat on the bones!" Grandpa Charlie laughs as he smacks his pot belly and makes it jiggle. That really isn't helping me, dude. Like, at all.

"You aren't fat, sweetie. You're just a little chubster like me when I was your age," Dad's sister Pauline adds, but that isn't comforting either because she weighs like four hundred pounds and has a pound of potatoes on her fork.

"There's no reason for him to be so big at his age. He's what, thirteen now?" someone asks from the end of the table and my face heats up again. Now everyone's joining in on the game of 'Pick on Preston' and I just tune it all out. I'm not even hungry anymore. I'm not dating Rob, I'm not gay, and I'm not that fat, so they can all just sit on their forks and fudge off. Tori doesn't say anything for the rest of the meal but she keeps watching me with that twisted little smile on her grimy lips like she knows a secret or something I don't. I can't stand that kid.

I pick at my food while I wait for people to start leaving the table and I just want them all to leave me alone. All Daka and everyone else does is tease me constantly and tick me off. They never have anything good to say about me and I'm tired of listening to everyone make jokes about me all the time. No one ever sees the stuff I'm good at or the good things I do - it's always a matter of who did it first or who did it better or who did something more important. Compared to Sam and Daka, I'm just short and fat and lazy and dumb and antisocial, and I'm pretty sure that's how it's always gonna be.

It won't be like this next year, though. I'll make sure of that. Even though I know I'm gonna regret it, I already signed up to take weight training as one of my electives for senior year so I could try to get in better shape. I was planning to go on a diet over the summer when I'd have videos to keep my mind off being hungry but I guess I'm gonna start earlier than I planned. I'm so over the fat jokes I can't even see the ground anymore. I don't like my cheeks that all the old people like to pinch at parties or my moobs or my jelly belly, and I'm tired of Daka's comments about me overflowing my computer chair and getting trapped in my room. I'm sick of it and if it means I only get half a plate of food at Passover, that's what's gonna happen. I wish I was skinny and confident like Rob.

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Just a Quick Note: If you enjoy this story, please remember to LikeFavSub and drop a comment down below. Each chapter takes at least five hours to write and edit, and seeing that other people are enjoying it as much as I am motivates me to release new chapters on time. Thank you for sticking around this long!

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