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***Mercifully, Donna steered me to a seat between her and one of the brats,and I was able to survive the interminable dinner with a minimum ofconversation. I caught Jack staring at me across the table a few times,and each time I turned to Donna and tried to make a little joke to evokesome laughter from her. Eventually, Jack gave up on me, and when wefinally polished off the pumpkin pie and bread pudding, I felt like Iwas ready for another bout of bulimia. But I probably worked off halfthe calories slaving like a scullery maid in the kitchen with the restof the women.By the time we were finished, most of the men had passed out in the denin front of another football game, and the women actually seemed to betalked out. Donna guided me gently up the stairs when no one waswatching, and she led me into the bedroom where we were to spend thenight. It obviously used to be a kid's room, and our suitcases (whichone of her brothers had carried upstairs) were sitting on a pair of twinbeds. There. Laura hardly touched hers. Frederick whined once that he hated apple but he was immediately scolded and told to be silent by Mrs DiMartino. After that he didn’t make a sound. He coated the apple crumble with custard and proceeded to eat the custard and the crumble and leave as much of the apple on his plate as he thought he could get away with.We all finished eating as much of that as we were going to and then sat around letting the food digest. There had been a few scattered discussions around the table but nothing interesting. I was watching Melissa pretty carefully. Laura’s comments had made me think. I realized that she was pretty good at hiding what was going on inside her head. I also realized that the happy and cheerful Melissa was pretense. I guess I recognized it more easily than most because I sometimes do the same thing.After having been silent since returning from the bathroom, Laura stirred and announced, “I have something to say.”Mr DiMartino scowled. “What makes you.
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