Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants

Krista’s voice grew so quiet, Carmen wasn’t even sure
she was still talking. “I’m not sure if he . . .” Krista trailed
off till she was just mouthing words at her plate.
“Carmen has my height and my talent for math,” her
dad piped up. It was lame, but Carmen appreciated it
anyway.
Lydia nodded earnestly. Paul still didn’t say anything.
“So, Carmen.” Lydia placed her fork on her plate.
“Your father tells me you are a wonderful tennis player.”
Carmen’s mouth happened to be completely full at
that moment. It seemed to take about five long minutes to
chew and swallow. “I’m okay,” was the big payoff to all
that chewing.
Carmen knew she was being stingy with her little
answers. She could have expanded or asked a question
back. But she was angry. She was so angry she didn’t
understand herself. She didn’t want Lydia’s food to taste
good. She didn’t want her dad to enjoy it so much. She
didn’t want Krista to look like a little doll in her lavender
cardigan. She wanted Paul to actually say something and
not just sit there thinking she was a stupid lunatic. She
hated these people. She didn’t want to be here. Suddenly
she felt dizzy. She felt panic cramping her stomach. Her
heart was knocking around unsteadily.
She stood up. “Can I call Mom?” she asked her dad.
“Of course,” he said, getting up too. “Why don’t you
use the phone in the guest room?”
She left the table without another word and ran
upstairs.
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