Mom confronted me at dinner that night. “How did this happen?” She slammed the newspaper down so hard she knocked over my glass of milk. I got up to get a cloth. “Leave it!” she shrieked. “Answer me!” “Her letter must have slipped out of my history book,” I said. Dad was working late. There was nobody to buffer her. “You let her letter get away from you? And now look what’s happened!” “I didn’t plan it,” I protested. “But you don’t seem very upset about it, either. Why aren’t you angry? Why aren’t you upset? Why aren’t you railing?” “You don’t know what I’m feeling,” I shot back at her. “Besides, you’re railing enough for the both of us.” “Is this whole town crazy?” Mom threw up her hands and strode about the dining room with dizzying speed.
