“This is… for me?” Milo whispered, as if the idea was both too grand and impossibly ordinary.
“What’s MyVidster?” Milo asked. He’d heard the word at school, a whispered name passed between classmates like contraband candy.
“Can we fix it?” Milo’s question was earnest. For him the internet was magical and personal, something to tinker with. Dad set his coffee down and reached for the laptop from the counter. “Let’s see what’s wrong,” he said.
