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AT THE DINNER TABLE, FIONA examined the two new faces in thinly-veiled annoyance.
"Well," she breathed, "house is getting kind of full, isn't it? Already got more than what we started with, if you don't count Frank."
Eva sat between Carl and Fiona, and could hardly keep the glare from her face. Elliot sat directly across from her, repeatedly tapping his foot against hers on "accident."
"Debbie...is your friend staying the night? On the couch?"
Of course, Eva knew that no one but she would be sleeping on the couch. Even when Debbie nodded her head in response.
"All right...Well, I won't be home tonight, so I can't check in on you, but I'm trusting you."
Debbie scoffed and rolled her eyes. "I'm seventeen, Fiona. I don't need you to 'check in' on me."
"All right," Fiona frowned. "I was just saying—"
"Yeah, you always seem to be saying something, Fiona. It gets old."
Before Fiona could react to her little sister's words, Eva fixed Debbie with an icy stare. "A little respect for the woman who didn't let you die of neglect would be nice."
Debbie clenched her jaws. "Last time I checked, I wasn't talking to you."
"Refresh. You just were."
Any sign of anger vanished from Fiona's eyes, replaced with confusion. Her eyes flickered between the two girls, who glared daggers at each other. "Whoa, what happened with you two?"
"Trust me—she wouldn't want me saying it in front of everyone," Debbie replied, in a grudging tone.
Eva's nostrils flared, her fists clenched beneath the table, but she held her anger at bay as best she could. "Oh, please say! Tell her how your boyfriend couldn't keep his fucking distance, and you're so blind, you'd pin it on anyone else—"
"Oh, don't bring me into this!" Elliot cried, brows furrowing in disapproval as Fiona's icy eyes landed upon him. "I did nothing."
"Really?" Debbie's voice rose with every word she spoke. "That's what you're doing! Trying to pin it on him!"
"Okay, okay, lower your voice—"
Fiona was drowned out when a new voice cried, "Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Everyone turned their attention to the man at the entrance to the kitchen—Lip. "What's going on? Why are you two screaming at each other?"
