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My mother is a maniac.
“I love Thanksgiving,” Andromeda cheers, lifting her plate. “Everything, please!”
“Oh my. What’s the verdict, Dad?” Mom looks toward Pollux.
Pollux doesn’t respond.
I nudge him, and he startles, looking at me, then at my mother, then back to me. “Did I miss something?”
“You’re Dad.”
“Oh.” He straightens, stares, calculates. “Oh. Right. Desserts have sugar. Normal children react questionably when their systems are impacted by excessive sugar. Meda may have whatever she’d like. It all looks incredible, and I’d hate to withhold anything on account of general, inapplicable, procedure.”
Andromeda giggles.
Mom smooths her Mom Face over with a questioning, “All right… We’ll start you off with a slice of chocolate pie. How does that sound?”
“Excellent!”
Taking Andromeda’s plate, Mom portions out a slice and hands it back to her, but she doesn’t let go when Andromeda latches onto it. “What do you say?”
“Huh?” Andromeda’s smile falls. “Is this a riddle? Are dessert riddles part of Thanksgiving? I don’t think I have enough information. I say…words. Is the answer words?”
Mom prompts further, “What do you say when someone gives you something?”
“It depends on the situation and what is being given. I don’t… I don’t know what you expect from me.”
“Thank you.”
Worry sparks in Andromeda’s little blue eyes, and she shoots a look at her father.
Pollux clears his throat. “Meda, what can you say?”
Andromeda brightens. “I appreciate it.”
“Don’t disrespect your father, honey.” Mom’s expression hardens. “Thank. You.”
Andromeda’s lip trembles, and she looks back at her father, eyes imploring.
Pollux exhales a swear that jolts my parents’ attention toward him, with subsequent horror. He ignores them in favor of looking at me. “Take a deep breath for me, dearest. And…I apologize for how this may negatively impact you.”
Before I understand what in the world he’s talking about, he lifts his hand and snaps his fingers.
My ears ring as a blur coats the world for half a second. I shake off the sensation and watch my parents reboot. A second of stillness passes. Then another. Then Mom smiles and hands Andromeda her plate. Joyful, she says, “Oh! It’s the perfect time to go around the table and say what we’re grateful for. Aaron, why don’t you start? Pollux, would you like some pie? ”
“Yes, please.” He watches me out of the corner of one red eye framed by black instead of white. “I appreciate it.”
My stomach drops like a stone to my toes.
Chapter 22
~~~~~~~~~~~~
The nightmare continues.
“Pollux seems very sweet,” Mom says as we tag team the dishes. “If a little awkward. Poor thing.”
I barely register her words while I stare into the basin of soapy water and scrub the same plate five hundred times. After that snap, Pollux’s eyes were like my dreamboy’s for a moment. My stomach hurts, but not even I can convince myself it’s because I ate too much.
