“Looks like I won!” she crowed.
The music was still playing but nobody was dancing. Nobody was making a sound. The whole room had gone dead silent except for that awful tinny beat still coming out of the speakers, and my sister, standing there grinning, holding a bunch of flowers she’d ripped out of a paralyzed child’s hands.
I don’t remember deciding to move. I just found myself in front of her.
“What is wrong with you?” My voice didn’t even sound like mine. “Claire wanted Mia to have those. You knew it. Everybody in this room knew it. What is wrong with you?”
Donna rolled her eyes. Rolled her eyes, with her sister’s whole face burning in front of her.
“Oh, please,” she said, and she said it loud, loud enough for the tables to hear. She actually turned a little so more of the room could hear. “Don’t be so dramatic. Why does she even need a bridal bouquet?”
