CHAPTER 7
With all the extra ceremonial blah-blah-blah at the match, I don’t get to school until lunch is almost over. I quickly fill my tray and scan the cafeteria, looking for my–and Cissy’s–favorite table for two. I quickly find it, but now it seats three.
Zeke has moved in. Resentment twists in my belly. Zeke gets all of Cissy’s attention after school, and I have to listen to her yammer about him non-stop during the day. Lunch is the last scrap of girl-time left in my life.
Gritting my teeth, I step up to the table and wait for some acknowledgement of my existence from Cissy and Zeke. It doesn’t happen.
“Do you want any more, Zekie?” Cissy holds a French fry in one hand. I’m pretty sure she’s been hand-feeding him. Gross.
“No thanks, honey bunches.” Zeke pats his stomach. “Have to
