Frederick's chopsticks hovered, then slowly lowered back to the table. "She didn't mean anything by it," he said quietly. "Do you have to go after her like that?"
Dad took one look at Agatha's hurt expression and turned on me. "Your sister just got home! Would it kill you to be civil?"
He pivoted right back to soothing Agatha, then disappeared into the kitchen and returned with bowls of mango tapioca pudding to cheer her up.
Agatha's eyes darted sideways. She picked up a bowl and carried it to me with both hands. "Dad worked so hard on this. You should have the first taste, sis."
I turned my face away. I couldn't stand watching her perform. The smell of mango alone was enough to make my stomach lurch. But out of the corner of my eye, I saw every person at that table staring at me.
"Your sister is being so thoughtful. Just drink it, or you'll hurt her feelings." My parents closed in, their voices gentle but suffocating.
I was severely allergic to mango. When I was ten, I'd accidentally eaten some and spent a week in the hospital. But they'd forgotten all of that. The only thing they remembered was that Agatha's favorite dessert was mango tapioca pudding.