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Page 17
carpet. Thank God it was only water, she thought. She dropped the cubes into the glass. If Lisa'd been drinking milk or Pepsi . . . and you can thank your lucky stars her lasagna didn't end up on the floor.
Francine set the glass on the tray, then went looking for Lisa. She felt hot and squirmy inside. God, how she hated this kind of thing.
But this episode didn't seem like one of her daughter's typical tantrums. Something more serious. Maybe something to do with the death of that black kid.
I shouldn't have smarted off about it, she thought.
Just as she'd suspected, the bathroom door was shut.
'Honey?'
'Leave me alone.' From the girl's high, shaky voice, Francine knew she was still crying.
'Are you OK?'
'No.'
'I'm sorry I lost my temper, honey. Come on out, now, all right? You have to be at the Foxworth's in less than an hour.'
'I can't.'
'They're counting on you. Come on out and finish your dinner.'
Seconds later, the lock pinged and the door swung open. Lisa's face was red, her eyes bloodshot, her face gleaming with streams of tears. Sobbing, she rubbed her runny nose with a Kleenex.
Seeing the girl this way, Francine felt her own

 
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