“Andrews 9 I'm Not Going to Take It Jennifer was so quiet the next morning, she made me nervous at breakfast. She wouldn't look at me, and if she did have to gaze my way, it was as if she was looking right through me. She looked tired, her eyes dark. I imagined she had been sleeping on my threat, and it had played like a pebble under the sheet, causing her to toss and turn, flitting through her nightmares. My hands fluttered around so that I nearly dropped a dish. Uncle Reuben was poised to poun...ce if I did. He kept looking at me with sparks in his eyes when I rattled cups and saucers. Jennifer kept her eyes down. Every once in a while, she would lift her chin, and I saw her puckered little prune mouth drawn up like a drawstring purse. She ate and gathered her things together with barely a syllable escaping from those tight lips. "Are you feeling all right, Jennifer?" Aunt Clara finally asked her. I wasn't the only one who noticed a marked difference in her behavior. Usually, she didn't shut up, blabbing like someone who loved the sound of her own voice and expected everyone else to adore it as well.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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