At the Oliver family dinner table, Robyn picked quietly at her casserole. Her father ate with gusto. Mrs. Oliver ate a salad.
“Somebody’s quiet,” Robyn’s dad observed.
“Somebody’s sulking,” her mom said.
“Karen and Lisa were mean,” Robyn said.
“Oh, come now,” Gloria Oliver waved her hand, “they were just being girls.”
“I hate them,” Robyn said.
“Well you’d better get used to them,” Gloria snapped. “You’ll be seeing a lot of them once the new school year starts.”
“I want to go to Frankie’s school.”
“You are not going to Catholic school!”
“Why not?”
Gloria lit a cigarette, “Ken, help me out, would you?”
“Well, honey,” Ken Oliver said. “For starters, we’re not Catholic.”
Gloria shook her finger. “For starters.” She held up a second finger. “The girl lives in a trailer court, for
