There was a split second of silence, and then he slapped her, smack, right across the cheek.
That put my mother in his face like I’d never seen and sent my sister screaming insults over her shoulder as she ran down to her room.
My heart was pounding. Lynetta was right and I almost, almost got in his face, too, and told him so.
But then my granddad pulled me aside and we both retreated to our own little corners of the house.
Pacing around my room, I had the urge to go talk to Lynetta. To tell her that she was right, that Dad was way out of line.
But I could hear her through the walls, crying and screaming while my mom tried to calm her down.
Then she stormed out of the house to who-knows-where, and my mom took up with my dad again.
So I stayed put. And even though the earth quit quaking around eleven o’clock, there were tremors out there.
I could feel them. As I lay in my bed staring out the window at the sky, I thought about how my dad had always looked down on the Bakers.
How he’d put down their house and their yard and their cars and what they did for a living.
How he’d called them trash and made fun of Mr. Baker’s paintings. And now I was seeing that there was something really cool about that family.
All of them. They were just… real. And who were we? There was something spinning wickedly out of control inside this house.
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