“How could you?” he yelled, glaring at her with pain and hurt in his eyes.
“How could I what?” she asked, bewildered.
“Oh my God,” he replied. “Don’t you dare act so innocent. I know what you did.”
“Honey, please, tell me what has you so upset,” she said.
“Ha!” he retorted. “I know I’m just a kid but I’m not stupid.”
“Oh sweetie, I know you’re not stupid, but I honestly don’t know why you’re so angry at me.” She moved toward him to give him a hug but he backed away.
“I saw the evidence” he said. “It’s right there on the kitchen countertop.” She looked over at the counter, but shook her head, not knowing what he was referring to.
“Look,” he yelled, pointing to the cutting board on the counter. “It’s got green slime all over it. It’s clear that you have betrayed my trust.”
She looked down at him with a resigned look on her face. “Okay, you’re right. I chopped up a green pepper and put it in the meatloaf,” she admitted. “But I chopped it so fine that you won’t even know it’s in there.”
“But Mom, you know I hate green peppers. I hate them!” He continued to glare at his mother.
She put a slice of the meatloaf on his plate. “Take a taste,” she said. “If you don’t like it, I’ll fix you something else.”
Reluctantly, he put a small piece of the steaming slice of meatloaf on a fork, blew on it to cool it off, and took a tentative bite.
“Fine,” he said, “I’ll eat it this time, but don’t do it again. I hate green peppers.”
Written for today’s one-word prompt, “glaring.”