But bringing that up again felt like compliment-fishing, even though that’s not what I was looking for. “I keep thinking about all the things Mom said when I got caught with the locker,” I said instead. “Like, I’d need insurance or legal advice, and I’d need to keep her involved. And it’d need to be public posts only, with disclaimers. Stuff like that.”

Brougham considered it, squinting in thought. “Do you think she’d have a problem with you doing it?”

“Not really. Not as long as I’m not lying.”

“Then don’t lie. Simple. You don’t have to rely on just yourself anymore.”

The gentleman madeth a good point. These days, Mom and I talked regularly enough that I felt she’d be reasonable if I came to her with this. There was no need to hide it. I rocked from side to side as a hesitant sort of excitement shot through my chest. “I think I kinda wanna do it.”

This time, he spoke with his mouth full, because it was one of Brougham’s ongoing life goals to be as endearingly irritating as possible. “We coo shet roo up wiv a webshite.”

“Do you know how to do that?” I asked, unwrapping my own sandwich at last.

“Yeah, easy. We just need a web host and a URL; there’s a bunch of hosts that have simple site-building tools. I know a little HTML, that should get us most of the way there.”

“And could we do a little section where people can send in anonymous questions for me to post? And maybe even like a donation section?”

“Definitely. We’re not here to fuck spiders.”

I stared at him for the longest pause on record. “… What?”

He rolled his eyes like I was the one who didn’t know how the English language worked. “If we’re gonna do it, we’re gonna do it right.”

Huh. Do it right …

Then it hit me. “I could ask for feedback,” I said slowly. “All I had to go off to know if I’d messed up was my refund rate, but I never found out if I’d messed up little things that weren’t worthy of a refund. But if I left a section for complaints, or reviews, or something, I could learn from my mistakes. Actually improve, instead of just assuming I nailed it.”

Amusement touched the corner of Brougham’s lips. “How do you think you’ll do if someone writes and says you got it wrong? Can you handle that?”