I found myself staring at the painting my father had given me and became furious all over again.
Bryce had never been a friend to me, ever! He hadn’t made a stand for the tree,
he’d thrown away my eggs, and he’d made fun of me at my uncle’s expense….
Why was I playing along like we were jolly friends and neighbors?
When my mother called that it was time to go, I went out in the hall with every intention of telling her that I would not,
could not go to the Loskis’ for dinner, but she looked so lovely and happy that I couldn’t.
I just couldn’t. I took a deep breath, wrapped up a pie, and shuffled across the street behind my brothers and parents.
Chet answered the door. Maybe I should’ve been mad at him, too, for telling the Loskis about my uncle, but I wasn’t.
I hadn’t asked him not to tell, and he certainly wasn’t the one making fun of David.
Mrs. Loski came up behind Chet, whisked us in, and fluttered about.
And even though she had quite a bit of makeup on, I was surprised to see the blueness of bags beneath her eyes.
Then Mrs. Loski and my mother went off with the pies, my brothers vanished down the hall with Lynetta,
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