Chapter Thirty-Three
Trina’s POV
When I return to the lawn, I meet just Anne with her perfectly pedicured nails out in the open, basking under the sun, the white paint making the sight pretty. But that isn’t a word I will use to describe Anne as the venom seems to sit in her eyes each time she regards anyone. She smirks when she sees me approach and raises her toes to direct me to the spot where I carefully set the plate.
Anne cranes her neck a little to look at the contents of the plate. She angles her head and I see a flash of surprise and then anger, as she perhaps, realizes I didn’t put any of the fruits she doesn’t consume. “What is this?”
“You asked for a bowl of fruits…” my voice trail off with the exact infusion of cluelessness. “Did I get something wrong?”
“I don’t like apple
