Ruth-Ann and her parents were just sitting down to a dinner of roast chicken and mashed potatoes, the aroma making Ruth-Ann hungry, despite the gnawing ache in her stomach.
Rebecca burst in, tugging Peter beside her. Her blue eyes flashed excitedly, and she had a tense grin that she could not rein in.
Ruth-Ann gasped loudly.
Peter glanced at her once, and his cheeks burned red. He lowered his eyes to the floor and didn’t look her way again.
He was dressed more formally than usual, in a dark suit with a single-breasted jacket, a white shirt with a stiff collar that rose up to his chin, and a dark blue necktie, the knot tight against the collar.
“I have an announcement to make,” Rebecca said in a trembling voice. She squeezed Peter’s hand tightly. He kept his eyes on the floor. His whole face was red, as if his necktie was choking him.
“I know this family doesn’t like surprises,” Rebecca continued. She, too, avoided Ruth-Ann’s eyes. Her eyes darted across the table, from their mother to their father, as if Ruth-Ann was not in the room.
“You hate surprises, but I hope this is one that you will accept with happiness,” Rebecca said. She squeezed Peter’s hand again.
Mr. Fear set down his fork. He narrowed his eyes at Rebecca, his expression tense. Their mother lowered her hands to her lap. Ruth-Ann saw that she was biting her bottom lip.
They are hiding their surprise at seeing Peter with Rebecca, Ruth-Ann thought. But they both look about to burst. They do hate surprises; they hate anything that disrupts normal family life.
“I might as well just spit it out,” Rebecca said. “Peter and I are going to be married.”
Ruth-Ann saw her parents’ mouths drop open. Her father made a choking sound. Her mother scooted her chair back noisily, as if about to stand up.
But Ruth-Ann was already on her feet. “No, you’re not!” she shrieked. “No, you’re not! No, you’re not!”
Her hand sent the crystal water pitcher crashing to the table as she bolted toward them, screaming. “No, you’re not! No, you’re not!”
She slammed into Rebecca, who uttered a startled cry. Ruth-Ann grabbed her sister by the shoulders and shook her, shook her so hard that Rebecca made a gagging sound, and her arms flew up helplessly, and she sank to her knees with Ruth-Ann still gripping her shoulders and shaking her like a stuffed doll.
“No, you’re not! No, you’re not!”
The fury that Ruth-Ann had held in now roared out of her. Rebecca was on her knees, shrieking, crying for help, beating her fists weakly against Ruth-Ann’s arms. Ruth-Ann slid her hands from Rebecca’s shoulders to her throat and began to strangle her.
And that’s when Ruth-Ann felt strong hands on her shoulders. Her father pulled her back. Peter wrapped an arm around her waist and tugged her off Rebecca.
Ruth-Ann pulled free of their grasp and stumbled back to the side table, sending two serving dishes and a flower vase shattering to the floor. Peter pulled Rebecca to her feet.
Sobbing, Rebecca rubbed her throat with both hands. Her long hair fell over her face in wild tangles. Her chest heaved in and out as she struggled to catch her breath.
Mr. Fear stepped between the two sisters, his arms outstretched to form a shield. “No more! Stop!” he cried. He turned his angry gaze at Ruth-Ann. “Control yourself. This is a civilized household.”
“Ha!” Ruth-Ann cried bitterly. “What Rebecca has done isn’t civilized.” She glared at her sister, resisting the urge to attack her again.
“We—we couldn’t help it.” Peter spoke up for the first time. He had his eyes on Mr. Fear, not Ruth-Ann. “We—uh . . .”
“We fell in love,” Rebecca said, her voice breaking. “It happened so quickly. But we know we love each other, and we want to get married.”
Mrs. Fear cleared her throat. She stood gripping the back of her dining room chair, her face even more pale than usual. “This is something we all need to discuss, Rebecca. You can’t burst in here at dinnertime and drop such big news on us, and expect that we can digest it immediately.”
“I—I don’t expect you to digest it,” Rebecca snapped. “And we don’t need to discuss it. It’s my life and I’ll do what I want to do.”
Mr. Fear sighed. “You always have. We’ve always given you everything you wanted. But—”
Ruth-Ann let out a cry. “She just wants Peter because he was the only thing I had. No one else can have anything. She has to have it all.”
“That’s not true,” Peter chimed in. He took a few steps toward Ruth-Ann, looking at her for the first time. Behind his glasses, his eyes were wide. His cheeks were still bright pink.
“We can’t help how we feel, Ruth-Ann,” he said. “We can’t control our emotions. They control us.”
“Very deep,” she said sarcastically. “Did you get that line out of one of your magazines?”
“You wouldn’t understand,” Rebecca cried.
“I understand perfectly,” Ruth-Ann shot back, crossing her arms tightly in front of her. She hugged herself, trying to force her heartbeat to slow.
“You think everything is about you,” Rebecca said. “Well, this isn’t about you. This is about Peter and me.”
Peter nodded in agreement.
“I’m sorry you got hurt,” Rebecca offered. But she said it without any kindness or warmth. She took Peter’s arm. “But you’ll get over it. You’re only seventeen.”
“Get OVER it?” Ruth-Ann cried. “Get OVER it?”
Mr. Fear stepped between them again. “I think we need to take some time,” he said. “Perhaps we could meet later tonight. After dinner. Or—”
Ruth-Ann let out a disgusted groan. “Are you really going to sit down and eat your roast chicken while she ruins my life?”
Mr. Fear waved both hands, signaling for Ruth-Ann to calm down. “This is difficult. This is a surprise,” he said. “A surprise for all of us, and—”
She could see his mind whirring. She knew her father well. She could see when he was stumped, when he had no idea what to say next.
He’s useless, Ruth-Ann thought. He’ll give in to Rebecca and do whatever she wants. He always does.
And look at Mum. Standing there biting her lip, holding on to the back of the chair for dear life. She’s useless, too.
“I’ll tell you one thing right now,” Ruth-Ann said. The words blurted out of her mouth before she had time to think about them. “You will never marry Peter. I’ll make sure of that.”
Rebecca tossed her head back and uttered a scornful laugh. “What are you going to do, Ruth-Ann? Cast a spell on us like some kind of witch?”
Ruth-Ann stared at her. “What a crazy idea.”
