(People are telling Christa what to do with the layout)
Christa: Thank you, backseat drivers.
Emily: We’re all watching you.
Michael: I’m sitting to the side of the monitor. I can’t see anything.
Stacey: You’re like a three-cars-over driver.
Emily: 90% of the time I’m always right.
Michael: Just keep saying numbers and they’ll be true.
(Emily gives pages to Michael, first with a ‘Hwah!’, then by repeatedly hitting him with a page)
Celia: One day, he’s going to punch you.
Emily: Oh, I know. I want to see the breaking point. I’m like a small child.
Meela: Nikunja doesn’t like you.
Nikunja: That’s not true!
Meela: You’re adopted. Your parents don’t love you.
Emily: Well maybe I don’t like them. Maybe I ran away from home when I was twelve. You don’t know. What do you know of my life?
Meela: Daniel, please don’t harass Emily, no matter how much you might not like her, like the rest of us.
Emily: DON’T haraSS me!
Later…
Christa: Go sit down. Go sit down and let me verbally harass you.
Emily: It’s the same f***ing structure in every f***ing sentence. ‘Blah blah blah blah we at the Tartan blah blah blah.’ Stop it, Daniel!
(SciTech Daniel turns around.)
Emily: Not you.
Emily: What if I said I was going to creep into your room at night, Anna, and touch you?
Christa: You already do that.
Celia: Okay, I’ll be back.
Emily: What? The room’s going to explode.
Celia: Uh, it’d better not. It’ll be your fault if it explodes.
Emily: Aww. It’s going to explode now. And it’s going to be my fault.
Emily: They’re not rioting. They’re happy! They’re sticking their tongues out!
Emily: Anna, why didn’t you bake?
Anna: Because I was either in a car, at Greek Sing, or sleeping.
Emily: You should have baked. At Greek Sing.