I turn to our father, searching for an ally. "So Dad, is it legal for Bronte to date out of her species?"
Dad looks up from his various layers of pepperoni and breadless cheese. "Date?" he says. Apparently the idea of Bronte dating is like an electromagnet sucking away all other words in the sentence, so that's the only word he hears.
"You're not funny," Bronte says to me.
"No, I'm serious," I tell her. "Isn't he like... a Sasquatch or something?"
"Date?" says Dad.
