“Lily never spills her food,” Vanessa said.

“It isn’t my fault your kid can’t handle breakfast with the rest of us.”

Lily gazed emptily at the floor tiles.

“I chew my food,” Lily said in a clipped rhythm.

“I sit still.”

I pressed my palms flat on my knees.

I looked at the syrup spreading across the floor.

“I’m going to wash the shirt,” I said.