I had, of course, seen Mr. Loski many times, but usually from a distance. Still, it seemed impossible that I’d never noticed his eyes before.
They were blue. Brilliant blue. And although Mr. Loski’s were set farther back and were hidden somewhat by his eyebrows and cheekbones,
there was no mistaking where Bryce had gotten his eyes.
His hair was black, too, like Bryce’s, and his teeth were white and straight.
Even though Chet had called Bryce the spitting image of his father, I’d never really thought of them as looking alike.
But now I saw that they did look alike, though where his dad seemed kind of smug, Bryce seemed… well, right now he seemed angry.
Then from the other side of the table, I heard, “Your sarcasm is not appreciated, Dad.”
Mrs. Loski gave a small gasp, and everyone looked at Lynetta. “Well, it’s not,” she said.
In all the years we’ve lived across the street from the Loskis, I’ve said about ten words to Lynetta, and she’s said fewer back.
To me she’s scary. So it wasn’t a surprise to see her glaring at her father, but it was uncomfortable.
Mrs. Loski was keeping a smile perched on her face, but she was blinking a lot, glancing nervously around the table.
I looked from one person to the next, too, wondering if dinner at the Loskis’ was always this tense.
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