Gemotions

"We should call Liam," Sarah’s mother said gently. "Maybe he can change his party?" Sarah slammed her hand on the table, making the glasses jump. "No!" The word echoed in the small kitchen.

The suggestion of collaboration felt like a personal affront. She wouldn’t cede an inch. She would show him, she thought, a fierce energy coursing through her.

At the party, she refused to let any of the decorations reflect his style. She ordered the caterers to provide the most complex and sophisticated menu, filled with food that she knew the other boy wouldn’t know how to eat. It was all a declaration of independence, a statement of defiance.