“Chloe, you’re going to apologize to Toby now,” I said, keeping my voice quiet and exact.

Brenda slammed her silver fork against her porcelain plate hard enough to send a scrap of roast beef onto the white tablecloth.

“Don’t you talk to my daughter in that tone, Valerie,” Brenda shouted, her voice loud and commanding.

“She stomped on his drawing on purpose,” I said, my thumb resting on the inside of my wrist as my pulse stayed completely steady.

“Teach your brat not to get under people’s feet,” Brenda said, leaning across the table and pointing her gold-ringed finger right at my face.