"Oh, she's just mad 'cause everyone likes Ginny more," he said, a smug grin spreading across his face.
He stuck his tongue out at me like he always did when he thought I was a loser. "Such a little brat!"
"No! That's not— I didn't—" I stammered, my words tangled in my throat, desperate to make them understand.
But then Dad slammed his hand down on the coffee table with a crack that made me jump.
"Go to the attic and think about what you've done!" he shouted, his face red with anger.
My heart raced, and my eyes darted to Mom, hoping she'd say something and step in like she usually did when things got bad.
She glanced at my scraped knees, her face softening for a split second. I thought maybe—just maybe—she'd defend me.
But then Dad's voice cut through the room like a whip. "Do not interfere, Irine! She needs to learn a lesson!"
Before I knew it, his hand was wrapped around my arm, yanking me up the stairs. I stumbled behind him, trying to keep my balance, my legs shaky from the pain and fear.
"I am Henry Franklin! I will not tolerate a child who is petty and selfish!"
His words sliced through me harder than anything Charlie had ever said.