Chapter 18

Everyone was already seated at the kitchen table when I came downstairs. George sat at the far corner seat of the table, his back facing me. "Stop it," my mom gave a low growl. I walked toward them, my dad was staring at George, the scent of anger coming off of him. George looked sheepishly at him, giving off the scent of nervousness. My mom gave off a wave of authority. Their scents swirled and made my head spin. I made it to the chair between George and my dad.

"Dad, stop making George nervous," I pulled up my chair and sat down.

My mom gave him another warning look and he resumed with a scowl. The scents cleared up. I gave a sigh of relief. "Are you ok hon?" my mom asked giving me a concerned look.

"Yeah, just hungry," I lied.

Without another word we all got a serving of my mom's Italian pasta. It was Grams' recipe. We ate in silence for a few moments. The sound of cutlery hitting plates echoed in the house.