Grandpa did not look at him at first, choosing instead to scan the raised hands as if he were quietly taking attendance before making a final decision. Then he spoke in a tone so flat that it felt like a slap across my face.
“They are right.”
The words hit me like something solid and heavy, knocking the air from my lungs.
Danielle squeezed my hand painfully tight while Harper’s drawing crinkled inside the gift bag as she held it closer to her chest.
Grandpa’s eyes finally met mine, and there was something complicated in them that I could not immediately understand, something that felt like restraint instead of cruelty.
Then he looked away again and said calmly, “We will take a vote.”
My thoughts stalled as confusion mixed with dread.
“If you want Andrew out of this party,” Grandpa said louder, “raise your hand.”
The same thirty hands rose again like a forest of judgment, leaving only Uncle Peter and Aunt Angela with their hands lowered.
Uncle Peter’s face turned red as anger overtook him, and he grabbed his wife’s hand before heading toward the door with a clear decision that staying was no longer worth the cost.