What am I doing here?” she demanded, bewildered.“You’re having dinner,” her little brother said.“Stop it! I’m not hungry. Stop it!”John held the spoon in front of her. His cherubic face was dark with anger. “You said you wouldn’t leave me.”“What are you talking about?” Mary demanded.“You said you wouldn’t do it. You wouldn’t leave me alone,” John said. “But you tried, didn’t you?”“I don’t know what you’re babbling about.” She noticed Astrid then, leaning against a filing cabinet. Astrid looked like she’d been dragged through the middle of a dog fight. Little Pete was sitting cross-legged, rocking back and forth. He was chanting, “Good-bye, Nestor. Good-bye, Nestor.”“Mary, you have an eating disorder,” Astrid said. “The secret is out. So cut the crap.”“Eat,” John ordered, and shoved a spoonful of food in her mouth. None too gently.“Swallow,” John ordered.“Let me—”“Shut up, Mary.
Michael  Grant, Hunger
alone, astrid, dinner, eat, eating-disorder, hungry, john, leave, little-pete, mary, shut-up