Chapitre 51: Chapter 51

Okay, not that it wasn’t true, but still—

“We don’t want you to become depressed and suicidal.”

“What? Mama—”

“There’s a high percentage of that among—”

“Don’t go there,” I cut in quickly. “And anyway, I’m not.”

“You don’t have to decide this moment, of course.” My father patted my hand. “You have all the way until Sunday.”

“All the way until Sunday,” I muttered. I glared at my sister, who turned red and looked away. No help there.

“Anyway. Eat up, Fabian. You’re too skinny. Tomorrow you can help me make food for Thursday.”

“Like what?”

“The pies. The pasta.”

“Pasta? Do we really need that with turkey and stuffing and all that?”

She sniffed. “We always have pasta.”

Pop slapped the table and got up. “Let me show you the size of the turkey we got, son.”

Mama got up, too, to follow him into the kitchen.

Denise looked at me. “Sorry.”