light from the chandelier that hung above us caused them to sparkle.
“Wow! Frozened yogurt? Really?” I feigned excitement, trying not to laugh as I repeated the word that she had said incorrectly.
She nodded in response to my question before losing interest in our conversation and starting to play with the utensils that were spread out in front of her. When I noticed her small hand reaching for the knife I snatched it up and set it on my plate, cutting the palm of my hand in the process. I really should pay more attention to what I'm doing. With a sigh, I pushed myself up from the table and, making sure to push the knives out of Lilly's reach, speed walked into the kitchen.
When I walked in, my mom was busy placing a pie shaped pan into the oven while Mrs. Richardson began to exit the room. As quickly as possible, I rinsed off the droplets of blood that had formed along the line of the cut and flattened a paper towel against it. By the time I was finished and had returned to the table, everyone was sitting down and waiting for me.
“Nice of you to join us,” Brianna said as I slipped into my seat.
I shot her a look that I only hoped could be described as deathly and listened quietly as Dad blessed the food.
“Amen,” we all chorused just before we began to fill our plates to the brim with the food that was laid out before us.
I made sure to shovel an extra-large helping of mashed potatoes onto my plate, along with a medium sized piece of grilled salmon, and a small spoonful of spinach and broccoli casserole. Next to me, Lilly pointed a finger to what she wanted to eat and I put a small serving of each item onto her plate. Once all of the plates were filled, the parents got into a heated conversation about a movie they had all seen recently while Brianna tried to win over Lilly.
I smiled, feeling proud of my little sister for knowing better than to trust the blonde bimbo who was seated in the chair on her right. Brianna smiled as Lilly shoved a spoonful of spinach and broccoli casserole into her mouth. “You are one adorable little girl,” she cooed.
Lilly turned toward Brianna, looking at her as if she had just said the most heinous and outlandish of things. She leaned toward Brianna, and to my amusement, spat the food from her mouth right into Brianna's face. “I am not a little girl,” she growled, putting emphasis on each syllable by slamming her fist down onto the edge of the table as she spoke. “I am a big girl! You are a baby! Don't call me a little girl!” By the time she had finished, she was screaming and had the attention of everyone in the room.
Everyone had a shocked expression on their face, with an exception to me. I could feel my face heating up, and not being able to hold it in, my body began to shake with laughter. The look on Brianna's face was priceless and I had to admit that she looked nice in green. The chewed up remains of Lilly's food slowly slid down Brianna's face and dripped from her chin and onto her black dress. Lilly looked from me to Brianna, and then glanced around the table, meeting everyone's eyes for a second before she shrugged and shoved another bite of her food into her mouth. Her nonchalant expression only caused me to laugh more, this time slamming my fist down onto the table with one hand and clutching my stomach with the other.
As the shock began to wear off of Brianna she held her hand up to her face, grimaced, and pushed her chair back so fast that it almost fell over. She stood quickly and stalked out of the room and toward the doorway that led to the staircase.
Someone cleared their throat and I tried to calm myself down by taking deep breaths until the laughter decreased slowly but surely. I looked up into the eyes of four frowning parents. My dad pointed his finger at the doorway Brianna had just fled through and gave me a look that told me that I needed to apologize for laughing at her. I frowned and gripped my fork tightly in my hand, stuffing a piece
1802-1870 Alexandre Dumas