Mom tries to pass me a plate of salad. She shakes it to get my attention.
'No, vag plass,' I say through a mouthful of chicken. I bow my head and attack the meat more savagely.
Dad is staring, wide-eyed, and mouth open.
'Okay, wha?' I face him with a caustic stare.
'I mean, Claire, that is all the chicken,' dad points out, holding some sandwich bread and no chicken. I finally realize that I have been eating the family chicken at dinner, and nothing but the chicken.
'You really need to eat some salad now,' mom says with a scolding expression.
'Did something happen, Claire?' dad asks instead. His mind is noting the faint tear streaks, the puffy eyes, the occasional, silent sniff.
'I'm great.' I stab a knife into a piece of chicken and rip with my teeth. My wolf side seems to be having some fun despite the circumstances. Dad's jaw falls lower at my cavewoman eating habit.
