Forgive me of my sins… for I’m too weak to resist.
Twenty-Four
ANDREA
Silverware clinks on porcelain;the deafening lack of conversation fills every crevice. My fork punctures a slice of tender meat, pink fluid oozing around the prongs. Bile rises in my throat. I’ve always hated lamb. The texture. The taste. The grease. But the wrath of not eating it isn’t worth the temporary disgust.
Father clears his throat.
Mama hastily reaches for the bottle of red wine and refills his glass. Lilly dabs the corner of her mouth, avoiding our father’s penetrating stare.
I meet it and shove a bite in my mouth.
It’s a chocolate chip cookie.
The lie doesn’t work. I stifle a gag and swallow while imagining him choking on Merlot.
My phone vibrates beneath the napkin on my lap. A quick scan confirms no one is paying attention to me. Cautiously, I lift the white cloth to check my messages.
Cheer Captain:
Jess: Party at Grant’s on Friday bitches
The Cheer Chat.
Not Seba.
Any excitement plummets. I haven’t heard from him since last night. At first, I gave him the benefit of the doubt— maybe he slept in, got busy, or had family shit to deal with— but the hours of radio silence dragged on without explanation.
Had I scared him away? Said too much? Didn’t give him enough?
More incoming texts.
Melissa:
repeat of last weekend?
Kennedy:
hell yesss! That X was a gooood time
Lindsay:
what’s everyone wearing?
Kennedy:
who cares?
Melissa:
I heard if you show enough cleavage you’ll get free party favors from the guys.
Lindsay:
Didn’t a girl on our team named Molly bring it?
Kennedy:
