Oh. My. Gods. - Weebly

That earns me a mom look. “There is always a period of adjust-
ment when families combine.”
“Her face could use an adjustment.”
“Phoebe,” Mom gasps.
Stella crosses her arms across her chest and raises one eyebrow.
“I’d like to see you try.”
“Stella,” Damian warns, “do not make the situation worse.”
“Damian,” Mom says, moving behind him and placing her hands
on his shoulders. “Why don’t we leave the girls alone for a few
minutes,” she suggests. “I’m sure they would rather discuss their
problem without an audience.”
Damian looks like he wants to argue, but lets Mom lead him to
the kitchen anyway. Just before they disappear out the back door,
he looks over his shoulder and gives Stella a stern look that clearly
says, “Work this out. Now.”
Hey, I was willing to forgive and—well, not forgive, but forget
anyway. But she has to keep throwing it in my face with the whole
I’m-so-full-on-my-latte thing.
“I have no idea what your problem is,” she says, casually taking a
sip of her water. “Your attitude is really quite awful.”
“My attitude?” I gasp. “You’re the one who—”
“Still crying the same old song, Phoebe? Let it go.”
“Let it go?” She is so full of—
I stand up slowly and calmly and say in as steady a voice as possible,
“Listen. You made that awful bet with Adara. You tricked me
into helping you win that awful bet. You let me believe—”
Oh no, I can feel the tears tightening up my throat. Not good. I
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