She Chose Me Last at the Table

She Chose Me Last at the Table

Author: Corey Turner

Chapter 2: Grandma’s House, Grandma’s Law

I couldn’t have been more wrong.

Her sharp gaze swept over everything like a drill sergeant at inspection, and the air in the house seemed to tighten.

Her voice boomed down the hallway, making the dog bark.

She marched straight to my room, hands on her hips, and started pointing out every inch of space I had over Mason.

She didn’t even wait for an answer, just kept on, “Back in my day, boys got the big room. It’s only fair!” Dad’s face turned red, but he stayed quiet, probably trying not to start a war on day one.

Mason just kept dribbling, his eyes rolling so hard I thought they’d get stuck. "Nah, Grandma, I’m good," he mumbled, barely looking up. It was the most diplomatic I’d ever seen him.

He tugged me out the front door like we were escaping a burning building. "Let’s get outta here before she starts measuring the windows," he whispered.

He called back over his shoulder, leaving Dad to face the music. I almost felt sorry for him—almost.

You could hear her voice echoing through the screen door, ranting about how kids these days had no respect. The neighbors probably heard every word.

Her voice carried all the way down the block, probably making Mrs. Phelps next door clutch her pearls. Dad just sighed, looking like he wanted to disappear.

Mason handed me half his popsicle, the red juice already running down his arm.

He licked his half, squinting at the sun. "Seriously, it’s 2022, right? Grandma’s stuck in the Stone Age."

I looked at the sticky treat, wondering if things would really be okay.

He puffed out his chest, trying to look tough, but I could see the worry in his eyes. "Don’t worry, I got your back."

He had a nickname for me—said I looked like I’d blow away in a strong wind.

I tried to swat his hand away, but he was too quick.

His laughter echoed off the houses.

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