Ahead was already a mouth-watering roast turkey. I stretched out my hand intending to take it myself. But suddenly my hand was tapped by Jackie.
"Don't use your hands. Use a fork and knife." Jackie's eyes rounded at me. She snapped her fingers calling for the waiter to help me cut the turkey.
I watched as Dad pleaded for a defense. Instead of defending me in front of Jackie, he nodded his head, asking me to obey Jackie's orders. Exhaling a short breath, I could only follow his will. Let the waiter cut the turkey and put it on my plate. I looked at the turkey in front of me as if it were alive and talking to me.
"How was your school, Daph? Your friends are good, right?" Dad asked me.
Getting the Dope-nee designation, getting paper stamped, getting beat in the karate arena… yep. My friends are really good.
Toying with the knife in my hand slicing the turkey on my plate I replied, "Not bad. At least they are still aware of my existence."
"I already contacted the principal that you are my current daughter." Jackie stuffed a small piece of carrot into her mouth. I watched carefully how she ate. So graceful, it's only right that Dad clings to her.
If I may admit, Jackie is the type of classy woman who is beautiful, outgoing, and intelligent. Her hair is black with cinnamon eyes. As Dad said, she bears a resemblance to her daughter, who I think is named Christabel—thankfully Christabel doesn't live in the same house as me at the moment. I can't imagine what it would be like if Christabel and I were in the same place.
"Not turning my fate into a pile of meat amid hungry lions," I sighed softly, imagining the evil faces of Trixie Marshall and Justin Lancaster.
We didn't talk much during the meal. I'm almost bored to death at this dining table. Jackie suggested putting off the conversation once dinner was over. Because according to what he said—according to the Westlake family etiquette guide—we were forbidden to talk during the meal. So I spent the night chewing my food and talking to myself like an alter ego sufferer.