Mocked: A Marcel Fanfic

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Four

After Veronica and I have washed our hands, we head back down the hallway to the kitchen. Veronica stops by the stairs and looks up it. "Your room is upstairs?" She asks casually.

"Yeah," I say, not even bothering to figure out why she would possibly be asking. "Come on, before Mother gets impatient," I tell her and lead her away from the stairs. 

In the kitchen, Mother has already set the table and motions for us to take a seat. I notice uncomfortably that Veronica and I are to sit beside each other with Mother across from me. Now it's just going to feel like she's scrutinizing every single thing I do, not that she doesn't already do that. 

Dinner consists of a tossed salad made up of lettuce, cherry tomatos, cut cucumbers, shredded carrots, and a bit of cheese. A small plate of dinner rolls is piled in the center of the table along with more salad ingredients. 

"Looks like I came on the right day," Veronica whispers to me teasingly as she grabs a roll. I remember telling her about how we have rolls every other night. I find it amusing that she remembers as well. "Is there any salad dressing?" Veronica asks.

"No dear, salad dressing is too fattening and our Harry could use some trimming down," Mother answers, a plastered smile on her face. I keep my face down and drag my fork through the salad. 

Veronica stabs a piece of lettuce and eats it, the sounding crunching loudly. I cringe in my seat. I don't know how to tell Veronica that Mother hates the noise without actually telling her. Whatever charm Veronica had used on Mother earlier had better start making another appearance. Mother practically fumes with each loud bite that Veronica takes. 

"You know, I think that Harry is perfect the way he is," Veronica say suddenly, examining a cherry tomato on the tip of her fork. 

"Is that so?" Mother raises an eyebrow at Veronica's remark. I swallow down another bite of salad. This isn't good. 

Veronica shrugs, stabbing her fork down on another piece of lettuce, the sound ripping through the dining room. "Yes, that is so. And don't you think that you should too? I mean, he is your son," Veronica points out. "I think it's important to have that parent-child connection." Veronica brings her hands up and binds her fingers between each other. 

Mother puts her fork down, grabs a napkin and wipes her mouth, and then folds her hands on the table. Uh oh, now Veronica has done it. 

"And you believe that I don't have said 'connection' with Harry." Mother's states, her voice deadly smooth and words like needles. 

"Honestly, I do not," Veronica says.

Please, just stop talking Veronica. 

"I'll have you know that we, as a family that does not include you, may I add, function perfectly well. We have established trust and honesty between us. Where are your parents? Huh? Have you told them that you're here tonight? I bet not," Mother snaps. She's annoyed because of Veronica's accusations. If I could find my voice, I would tell Mother the same thing.

"My mother overdosed a couple years back and my father's never around. So no, they don't know I'm here, but they also don't care." I gasp at Veronica and what she reveals. I had no idea that was her life. 

Mother's face softens. "I'm sorry, I had no idea," she says quietly. I almost choke on the cherry tomato in my mouth at her apology. Mother doesn't ever apologize. 

Veronica looks over at me and gives me a small smile. Her brown eyes twinkle with something mischievous and suddenly I'm questioning whether or not that story was true. As far as I know, she could be lying once again.