#anywhere

"But WHAT spices?" Frankie bounces in his chair.

Dad distracts him by starting to load up plates with turkey! It DOES look moist and tender. But... yellow is just weird for meat! "White or dark for you, Trina?"

"...Dark, I guess." Dubious tone.

Dad seems fairly oblivious as he heaps a decent portion of thigh meat onto Trina's plate, and then passes it around, so she can get all the traditional fixings as well. She notices that Dad takes the sweet potatoes first.

But she does take turkey, and the other offerings. "You can learn the spices when you are older, and sworn the special secret spice oath."

WIDE EYES on Frankie. "You hear that, Dad? -I- get to learn it!" Gloating a bit... through a mouth of taters.

A glimpse of color off to one side of the table... there's... a... a something? Reaching for the rolls!

Thistle narrows her eyes, trying to see what's reaching.

As she squints, she... does she recognize that? Surely not... Dad didn't KEEP it, did he? The feathers are a bit beat up, and the pipe cleaners have lost some fuzz, but it looks familiar...

Turkey Lurkey?!?

The very same!

She stands and stretches over the table to snag the basket of rolls.

"Sorry. Realized I needed some buttery carbs."

A guilty look.

She waits for a chance to break off a bit of roll to drop at her feet.

The table is bustling and now Frankie is talking about school... and there goes the roll! TurkeyLurkey wobbles over - oof, there is little structural integrity in those legs! And pecks happily at crumbs with a construction paper beak.

She is rather distracted by the bird. That was.. third grade? Before the divorce....

It's comical! He can't actually eat the crumbs, but that doesn't seem to matter, it's the THOUGHT that counts, as he trundles underfoot.

A little lip quirk.

"...rina? Trina?" Oh, Dad asked her a question.

"Huh?"

"Can you pass the gravy?" A hint of amusement in his voice.

"Oh, yeah!"

The gravy is passed! A deep negotiation is going on under Frankie's chair, it looks like a dustbunny has arrived, along with a couple nevers, and they are brokering peace over the scraps that the boy has dropped.

"Do you want... " Dad is talking to Janice.

"Oh, unless you want to tell them?" She smiles back, reaching for his hand.

A skeptical brow creeps northwards.

A beaming smile on Janice's face. "Frankie? You're going to be a big brother!"

Dad chimes in, "And Trina is going to be a double-plus-big-Sister!"

A stormcloud gathers, her spirals shifting to a sullen navy. "Oh. Wow."

"Isn't that exciting?" Dad asks, gently prompting?

Chime? Chime Chime? A Never pats Trina on the cheek, trilling in concern.

Frankie is asking dubiously, "Does that mean I have to share my toys?"

"Oh, yeah. Thrilling."

"Is that why you wanted me here?" She pokes at her potatoes.

Something tickles the corners of her awareness, but...

"Well, we wanted you to hear the news, of course." Dad seems puzzled by her mood.

Janice adds, "Of course we want you here, it's Thanksgiving, and that means family. Our family is growing, and we wanted to share that with you."

"They won't be in MY room, will it? Jaden has a little sister and HE says she's terrible." Frankie pipes in, feeling ignored.

"Your family." She echoes with a scowl.

"Our family IS your family." Dad responds, firmly. "I thought you would be happy for us all?"

"Yeah. Peachy."

"Trina, please. You know you are a part of our family." Janice says.

"But what about MY ROOM?" Frankie bangs his fork on the plate, tired of getting ignored!

"Francis! That's enough!" Dad has a long temper, but it's fraying a touch. "No one is stealing anyone's rooms!"

"Not your room, Frankie, and not yours, either, Katrina. You know you are always welcome here, to visit, or to stay, on holidays, or any day." Janice tries to smooth things down.

"This house has like five furkin' bedrooms..."

Janice responds, "Exactly! There's room for everyone."

"When is it due?"

"Springtime." Janice says. "We haven't learned yet if it will be he, or she... we just hope for healthy."

"Sure."

"Ah, well. Um. Who wants... Let me just get more rolls from the kitchen." Janice excuses herself a touch awkwardly.

Trina stabs some food. Stab. Stab.

"I'll, uh, go help with those rolls." Dad pushes his chair back with a scrape and moves into the kitchen.

Trina can't help but think that they could have all just EATEN in the kitchen, the kitchen alone is bigger than the dining room in her Mom's place. What with the island with the floating lights above it, and the fancy oven-thats-not-a-stove stuck into the wall. Nothing ever needs fixing here.

Frankie pushes his plate away, and asks in a small voice, "Are you mad at me?"

"You? What? No! You're my Frankie-stein."

"But you said we're not family."

"You're my brother!"

"We have different moms, but YOU are my family."

He nods, but looks unconvinced. But you said that mama's baby was part of HER family, and I'm mama's, too." A sudden look of surprise. "Does that mean... I won't be any more?"

"No!"

"I don't understand. You're mad! Why?"