Word Count: 552

Dysfunctional families came in all shapes, sizes, and social classes, Jonah realized.

His own was a perfect example—a mother who traveled so frequently she was almost a stranger to her own children, a father who spent more time teaching and tutoring other people's kids than he did his own, a grandfather with conservative ideals overseeing the bringing up of two fairly liberal grandchildren...

And, of course, a little sister who was obsessed with monsters.

“You're wasting your time with that stuff,” Jonah said as he peered over her shoulder. She had news article upon news articles of monster sightings pulled up on his computer, and video clips from a documentary by a local news caster which she kept frowning at every time she pressed play.

Haven flicked one of her hands back at him like she meant to shoo him away.

Indeed, the next words out of her mouth were, “Buzz off.”

“You're using my computer,” he pointed out.

“So?”

“So get your own.”

He could see her eyes roll in the reflection of the computer screen. “Grandpa doesn't think I need one until I go to college,” she said.

“Ask Mom and Dad.”

“When?”

“I don't know. Whenever.”

Jonah pulled away and flopped back onto his bed, pulling a random book off of his bedside table to begin flipping through the pages.

The computer chair squeaked when Haven turned to look at him. Jonah could feel her eyes on him but chose not to look back.

“Don't you care at all about what's going on in the city?” she asked.

“Does it affect me?” he wondered, finding a random page to pretend to focus on.

“Yes,” Haven insisted.

“Since when?”

“Since it started.”

“When did it start?” Jonah wondered disinterestedly.

“I don't know,” Haven said. “That's what I'm trying to find out.”

It was Jonah's turn to roll his eyes, which he did as he turned over onto his stomach to put his view of his sister and the computer behind him.

“So you don't believe in any of this stuff?” Haven asked.

“Do I believe in monsters? No,” Jonah said, “but I believe that people can do monstrous things.”

“Then why don't you care more?”

Jonah flinched. It wasn't that he didn't care about any of it, it was just...

“I think you're afraid,” Haven said. “You don't want to care because it means admitting all of this stuff is real, which means picking a side and doing something about it.”

“Which side would you choose?” Jonah asked.

“The right one.”

He didn't bother pointing out that there might not even be a right side.

Eventually Jonah heard Haven's fingers flicking over the keyboard, then the squealing of the computer chair again as she turned and rose to her feet. He heard her soft footfalls over the carpet, but focused on his book instead of turning to look at her.

When one of her hands fell to ruffle his hair, Jonah swatted it away.

“One day you'll have to choose,” Haven said on her way out.

Jonah waited until she'd shut the door behind her before looking up.

Somewhere along the line she'd grown up more than he had.