There's a lot that we don't talk about in my family. Some of it is common sense, but other things- in any other family what we don't talk about would merit an intervention on a massive scale or having those of us over 21 arrested for criminal neglect, underage everything, forgery and endangering several minors, some of whom aren't related to us at all.
None of us say a word about the fact that bottles of wine and rum will mysteriously disappear after someone at Court mistakes my youngest brother for everyone except himself, and Nick can barely stand upright for days after. We don't ask for a translation of the angry mix of Italian and Spanish that is always directed at Lucy, no matter the time of day, what she's working on or what she is believed to have done, to the point that she's started to carry a pharmacy's worth of painkillers with her everywhere and can throw back eight or more without the aid of water or any liquid. We pretend that Kieran comes across all of his extensive, potentially fatal wounds in mundane fights with Hel-Blar, not with a more vicious group of underground fighters, who are the people he has to trust with his life completely when the sun sets each day. Expensive, and often monogrammed, items appear by themselves in Logan's room. It's presumed that every person has nearly a thousand handkerchiefs, each embroidered with a different set of initials. And then there is my baby sister. She, out of all of them, is the most discreet about her misdemeanors. Yet we still find new identities continuously, with most of them appearing to be older than Sol herself.
She's as brilliant at forgery as our whole family is at ignoring the most unpleasant truths.
I'm braindead which is why I'm going to say- Friday is my update day.