"Not expensive? Do you know how many people go hungry in the world? Do you know how many potatoes this ticket could buy? Enough to feed a family for a month!"
He was full of self-righteous anger.
I’d had enough and pulled out my phone to complain to Grandpa about this living disaster.
I had just typed “Grandpa, the man you introduced me to—” when Jason leaned over, snatched my phone, and sneered at my contact list.
"Is that Robert Lane’s profile picture? You claim to know Robert Lane? Stop pretending — you think name-dropping will get my family to raise your engagement gifts?"
I clenched my jaw and said as calmly as I could:
"Didn’t Aunt May tell you about me? Not even my last name?"
Jason crossed one leg over the other, looking smug.
"She said you were from Portland. Who cares enough to ask more? Me? I’m a real Seattle native — do you know how valuable a Seattle household registration is? People would kill for it!"
He then launched into bragging about his family’s glorious history, their tiny house that he claimed was worth a fortune, and how many machines his mom’s factory had — which, to me, sounded pathetically small.
Just then, the flight attendant brought us two airplane meals.