Penny's POV
The newapaper sits in the middle of the kitchen table like a bomb we're all too scared to touch, blankly staring at us. My face and Andrew's face in the photo caught mid-laugh, through the window.
Nobody moves as silence fills the room.
I cut it, breaking the silence. "It's not even a good picture," I mutter, shaking my head. "If they wanted front-page, they could've at least picked an angle where Andrew's hair..."
"...doesn't look like a rejected shampoo commercial?" Nick finishes, leaning back in his chair with a grin.
I snort.
"Nick," Dad warns.
"What? I'm right." He raises his hands like an innocent kid. "At least let me critique the art direction if I can't set the paper on fire."
Andrew pushes back from the table. "Penny, let's talk upstairs." His voice is low and somehow clipped.
I look at everyone at the table before standing up to follow him upstairs.
