Chapter 9

The Round Table of Doom

Our family dinner table is round, or at least round-ish. That should mean everyone has an equal say in everything, right? Wrong.

Mom was in the kitchen, making dinner. Dad was still at work. Jimmy was next to me, playing video games on his phone. Olivia was bragging to Mom about her many accomplishments, as if any of us cared.

"And yesterday, I got a 100% on my science quiz! Oh, and I almost forgot. My badminton team's going to sectionals!!"

Mom smiled and I could tell it wasn't one of the fake "I'm so proud of you even though you do this all the time" smiles that she usually gave Olivia. This one was genuine.

"I'm so proud of you, Olivia," she stated. "This calls for a celebration."

"I got a 98% on my history test," I added.

Mom ignored me. "Olivia, you and I are going out for ice cream after this."

"What about me?" I asked.

"You didn't do anything special. Jimmy, stop playing on your phone."

"But I'm in the middle of a level," he mumbled, still playing.

Mom snatched his phone away and put it in a charger. I noticed he had a new piercing. That would make it his fourth.

Mom gave us each a bowl of pasta. Jimmy ate his as fast as possible, hoping to leave as soon as possible. I didn't blame him. Mom always tried to talk to him about his "unacceptable behavior" and "poor grades" and it only got worse when Dad got home. Honestly, there wasn't much they could do for him. Jimmy was graduating soon and then he was off to a good college; after that there was no need for Mom and Dad to interfere.

I ate my pasta quickly too. Mrs. Price assigned a lot of homework that night and I needed to get it finished. When I left the table, nobody noticed. It was just Olivia bragging to Mom about her many achievements.

Half an hour later, Mom, Dad, and Olivia were back with giant ice cream cones. Olivia's was the biggest of all; a strawberry-mocha-brownie sundae with extra sprinkles.

"We're so proud of you, Olivia," Dad said. Everything about that was too sweet, like their ice cream cones or Olivia's bubblegum pop music that only sounded worse when she screamed it. So sweet it was sickening. I slammed my face into my pillow, hoping someone would save me.