Red Roses

Chapter Three: The Fight

I couldn't stop thinking about Alex all week. We would laugh and make jokes in science every day, and I was working up the courage to ask them for their phone number. I was so wrapped up in my imaginary scenarios, that my mom had to call my name three times before I realized I needed to head downstairs. 

"What were you doing? I called three times!"

"Sorry, I was just wrapped up in a math problem," I lied. "Do you need me for something?"

"Go wash your hands, it's time for dinner."

When I came back, she asked "Are you all right? You seem a little distracted. Is is the party next weekend?"

"Party?" My parents always hosted a party towards the end of May every year. They say it's for their anniversary, but they're never the center of attention. I couldn't believe I'd forgotten. It was always two weeks after my birthday.

"Yeah," I finally respond. "I'm not sure what to wear. The dress from last year is too small."

My mom gave me a look that hinted she knew that wasn't the whole truth, but let the subject drop.

Everyone was quiet as we sat down to dinner. My dad finally broke the silence by asking, "How was school?"

"Fine." We chorused, but even I could tell our voices were off. I was zoning out, Cynthy seemed almost shy, picking at her food, and Carter kept flicking his eyes around the room, tugging at the sleeves of his shirt. We ate in silence for a few more minutes, before my mom glanced at my sister's plate. "Cynthy, eat your dinner." She chided. "I didn't spend an hour making it for you to cut up and push around your plate.

Cynthy glanced up. "Sorry. I'm not very hungry." She mumbled. "I had a big lunch?"

She looked tentative. Why would she lie about eating lunch? It's just food. Either you're hungry or you're not. What was she so nervous about?

"That's ok." My mom seemed to force a smile. "Just eat some chicken, you'll be alright."

"I'm sorry, I'm not hungry." Cynthy was getting more confident. She took a sip of water, and I almost thought I heard her stomach rumble, but she choked on her water and started coughing.

"Cynthy," My mom warned. She wasn't usually like this, but she had seemed on edge this week, and was rather overprotective about her glazed chicken. "This is usually your favorite meal. Is there something you would like to tell me?"

"I'm just not hungry, is that so hard to understand?" Cynthy was raising her voice now.

My mom gave her those eyes you give when a toddler is sick, anyone would have crumbled. "Look, I'm not trying to-"

Cynthy stood up, knocking her chair back and slammed her hands on the table. "Will you just leave me alone!?"

My mom was shocked. "Hyacinth Genevieve Madison! Go to your room right now!"

Cynthy turned, her long hair flicking around, and stormed up the stairs, throwing her bedroom door shut as hard as she could.

The rest of dinner was completely silent. Afterwards, Carter mumbled "Thanks for dinner," and dashed up to his room. I sat at the dining room table for a while, after everyone else had gone upstairs. It was my night to wash the dishes (ie. mostly just put them in the dishwasher). After I was done, I thought about Cynthy, up in her room. She had barely eaten dinner, and had seemed to have lied about lunch. Something had probably happened at school. She was probably really hungry now. I reheated some chicken and vegetables and tiptoed up to her room. I knocked gently on her door.

"What do you want?" She grumbled from inside.

"Cynthy, it's me." I whispered.

She opened the door a crack. It looked like she had been crying. 

"I thought you might be hungry. I brought you some-"

She slammed the door in my face.