“But I love him!” I had never seen my sister cry that much. “No, you don’t.”
“I hate you!” “No, you don’t.” My dad can be very calm sometimes.
“He’s my whole world.” “Don’t ever say that about anyone again. Not even me.”
That was my mom. My mom chooses her battles carefully, and I can tell you one thing about my family.
When my mom does say something, she always gets her way. And this time was no exception.
My sister stopped crying immediately. After that, my dad gave my sister a rare kiss on the forehead.
Then, he left the house, got in his Oldsmobile, and drove away.
I thought he probably was going to talk to the boy’s parents. And I felt very sorry for them.
His parents, I mean. Because my dad doesn’t lose fights. He just doesn’t.
My mom then went into the kitchen to make my sister’s favorite thing to eat, and my sister looked at me.
“I hate you.” My sister said it different than she said it to my dad.
She meant it with me. She really did. “I love you,” was all I could say in return.
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