Dinner and a Show

Eventually, Jennifer had worked the worry out of her system, at least for the time being, and her mother called her down for dinner. Sighing and straightening her skirt (she knew her mom would bug her about it if she didn't,) Jennifer made her way downstairs.
Dinner was pot roast, and Jennifer found that to her feline nose the aroma of meat, garlic, and spices was even more savory and intoxicating than usual. She sat down and as the last person to the table had to say grace. When she finished, plates were passed around and everybody served themselves. Just as she'd done all her life, Jennifer took generous helpings of roast and gravy, smaller helpings of potatoes, and, under her mother's watchful eye, the mandatory two carrots. Jennifer thought there were few things in the world worse than cooked carrots, (eggplant and getting turned into a girl thanks to a fumbled die roll being two,) but her mother insisted that even catgirls needed their vegetables. Jennifer was doubtful, but didn't think it was important enough to waste effort looking up. If they ever had eggplant again, she thought, that would be important enough.
Then it happened. Zoe seemed quite a bit more excitable than usual ("usual" being "all-out goth-angst mode;" even as a catgirl her fur was died black from its natural orange tabby, and her larger ears sported no less than a dozen piercings.) Reaching for the gravy boat, she suddenly jerked it away from Michelle and got gravy all over herself, then spasmed off the chair and tried to lick the gravy off her abdomen. Their mother sighed. "Zoe," she said, "you've been smoking catnip again,haven't you?"
"No!" Zoe snapped, one ear still twitching. Their mother stared at her long and hard, ears back ever so slightly. Zoe's eyes dropped. I've been ingesting it," she muttered.
"Better than smoking, I suppose," their mother said. "But you know darn well I don't want you using it at all." Zoe opened her mouth to speak, but her mother shushed her. "I don't care that it's legal. It still makes you a pain to deal with. Besides, I'm willing to bet you didn't get that from a smoke shop." Zoe nodded, ears drooping. Jennifer stared. She'd never seen Zoe this cowed by their parents, not since she got into her gothling-rebel phase.
"Really," her mother scolded. "Of all the stupid things to do...You know perfectly well how risky it is to buy catnip from playground pushers. You know they're not interested in selling you cheap, legal things. God only knows what they lace that stuff with to get you hooked in." Zoe's embarassed table-stare turned to a scowl, and her ears went from drooping to back. "I know," she snarled, "I know. I'm grounded again."
"Most likely," her mother said. "I haven't decided yet. Whatever the case, you and I are going up to your room after supper and flushing that stuff." She sat down. "God," Jennifer heard her mutter. "Why can't you be more like your sister? Either one?"
An akward silence hung over the table. Jennifer poked at her food for a few minutes, waiting for someone to say something, then decided she didn't care and dug right in. Michelle followed suit and then the rest of the family began to eat again.