taps her plastic cup on the table. "Can I have juice?"
"No," my mom answers. "Just have water with dinner."
I don't blame my mom. Maisey is amped up without juice. With juice, she'll be a Tasmanian devil.
"I want to try the fucking yams," Maisey blurts out and we all stare at her.
"Maisey," my dad cautions her.
"What? That's what Mace called them."
My dad looks at me like what did you do?
"No cussing, Maisey." I wag my finger at her.
She smirks because she knows she can cuss with me when her parents aren't listening. She can even get away with it in front of them sometimes.
The other usual suspects at a Twist dinner make their way around the table. Pizza, Chinese egg rolls, Sutton's salad packed with veggies. The bright orange sweet potatoes with roasted marshmallows dripping off the top stand out on the plates as the only holiday food.
Remy and Sutton pass on the yams and start eating.
Lola keeps her head down, and I have to pat her knee under the table to get her to look at me. "Hey."
"It's fine. I'm fine."
She doesn't look fine, but she's holding it in.
"The yams are incredible," my mom says with a smile.
Lola nods but doesn't look up again.
"I love them," Maisey screams. "Give some to Henry. Do you like them? Who else loves them?" she asks the entire table.
I hear mumbles of "delicious," but Remy and Sutton keep quiet with jaws locked and hard eyes directing arrows at Lola. I feel like jumping in front of her and taking every dirty look they're giving her in my own eye.
Before everyone is done eating, Remy puts his fork down and stares at me. "Why are you doing this, man?"
I stand and face him down. "You wanna go over it right here in front of everyone?"
He looks down. "No."
"I didn't think so." Everyone is staring at us, and Lola is trying to keep a brave face, but she's struggling. "Eat!"
My family snaps out of their staring and returns to chatter while we eat.
Remy stands and walks away early. Sutton watches him walk away then returns to sending me dirty looks.
My parents look concerned but disregard it to talk to Henry. "Did you like the yams, Henry?" my mom asks him.
"I love them."
Sutton smacks her napkin on the table, stands, and walks toward the living room where Remy is watching TV.
Lola hasn't said a word through dinner, but her eyes have slowly darkened and her mouth has grown drawn.
After we help clear the table, I grab Loralei's hand and march right to Remy and Sutton. "Let's work it out in the octagon."
Remy ignores me and stares at the TV. I smack him upside the back of his head. "I said let's go work it out."
He glances up at me over his shoulder then sends a dismissive look to Loralei again. "Not worth it."
I smack him a lot harder, and his head bobs forward. "Ow."
He lurches up and back to take a swipe at me but misses when I duck. I throw my arm out to hit his temple, but he blocks it.
"You ready to fight?" I ask him.
"Yeah." He puts down the remote and stands up from the couch. He gives me an evil glare as he walks past Lola.
"This really isn't necessary," Lola says timidly, but it's way too late for that. He's disrespected both of us, and he needs to pay for it.
I follow him out and hear my mom say, "What's going on?"
My parents and everyone else follows us out.
I hop over the rail of the homemade octagon we have in the outdoor gym. I whip off my shirt and Remy copies. We're both wearing jeans, which are not great for kicking, but comfortable enough for fighting. Lola grabs the rail with her fingernails. "Don't worry. It's—"
A thump hits the back of my head. Remy took a cheap shot paying me back for what I did inside. I turn around and glare at him. "Now we're even."
"Oh then we're done here?" He holds up both hands, palms up. It's his last ditch effort to get out of this. Signaling his hands are empty. We don't have to fight.
My hands curl up into fists. "Not yet. You're gonna apologize to Loralei by the end of this."
"Pfft. She's the one who owes a huge apology to all of us."
I step up to him and get in his face. "Did you ever stop and think why she did what she did?"
"You brought in her dad? So we