“What are you looking at?” Elise swiveled in the direction I was staring. “Oh! Is that Catherine?” “It is,” I confirmed warily. Like dominoes, one by one, every person at our table craned their neck to see her. As though she knew she was being watched, Catherine turned toward us. When she landed on me, her eyes widened in outright alarm. Elise raised her hand, beckoning her over. “Hi, Catherine!” When our mother died, I’d dropped out of Stanford so I could return home and become Elise’s guardian, and I’d never once regretted it until now. If Elise had had to tough it out in a group home or
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