Jonathan's POV
The sharp tap of Ethel's heel against the floor cut through the silence like a blade.
"Hurry up, Jonathan!"
"I'm coming!"
My fingers fumbled with the shoelaces, trembling more than I cared to admit. Ethel stood by the door, her entire body coiled with barely contained rage. Today of all days, I had screwed up again. I could feel the storm building in the small space between us.
"I'm not going to fight with you today."
The words came out through clenched teeth. We both knew it was a lie. She would save her fury for later, after we returned from the cemetery. After Savannah got her due respect. Only then would Ethel unleash hell on me.
My shoelaces tangled under my shaking hands. The clock on the wall ticked away precious seconds.
Ethel's foot tapped faster against the worn linoleum. Her eyes burned holes through the side of my head.
