By the time I got home, I knew it would be selfish of me to boycott the Loskis' dinner party.

My mother had already spent a lot of time humming over pie recipes and going through her closet for "something suitable to wear." She'd even bought a new shirt for Dad and had scrutinized what the boys intended to wear. Obviously she was looking forward to the dinner -- not that I really understood that, but I didn't want to ruin everything by telling her about my newfound hatred of Bryce.

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