Cheek the following text for tone and consitancey: if any errors are found corect them:“Who’s ready to eat now?” Cristina asked eagerly.

“Dad, keep an eye on Anna; she’s in one of her moods,” Jon said, sounding concerned.

“Sorry, Jon, I missed that. What’s going on with Anna?” Jake inquired, trying to catch up.

“Anna is having one of her moods, and she scared Emily. Can you please keep an eye on her?” Jon requested.

“Alright, I’ll see what I can do,” Jake reluctantly agreed.

During the meal, Anna propped her feet up on the hundred-year-old Italian oak dining table, wearing a defiant expression. The table was a magnificent piece of furniture, with intricate carvings and a rich, dark finish that gleamed in the light. Cristina shot Anna a disapproving look, her eyes narrowing as she took in the sight of Anna's feet resting on the table. The table was a family heirloom, passed down through generations, and Cristina knew how much it meant to her family. She spoke in a stern voice, her tone conveying her disapproval as she said, "Anna, remove your feet from the table."

Anna continued eating, ignoring her mother’s command. A tense silence hung in the air as everyone at the table exchanged shocked glances, unsure of how to react.

With all eyes on her, Anna locked her gaze on Emily and said, “So I’m guessing all the girls in your town of Pretty Wood love you, and I mean love you?”

Emily, taken aback, leaned away from Anna, her confusion evident. Jon interrupted, whispering in Emily’s ear, stunned by Anna’s audacity.

“So that’s what you think, isn’t it?” Emily protested, her voice tinged with defensiveness.

Anna said with a smirk, “Did I touch a nerve? Did the Princess have her glass case shattered? But you are what you are; no escaping that. Admit it now.”

Cristina interjected firmly, “Anna, apologize to Emily.”

“No!” Anna exclaimed, her mouth full of food. “Don’t sit there, Mrs. Sixties, and order me around. If you won’t have that, your house—that is, the one in your mind—is collapsing. You have a way to progress, but one day, everything will fall.”

“You invited me over for something to eat. Here I am consuming it. Specifications were not given on how it was to be eaten,” Anna continued, her tone defiant.

Jon interrupted, “Anna, have you heard of the implicit fact?”

“Are you joking?” Anna scoffed. “We assume all things unless we can explicitly define them as specific,” Jon explained.

“Under the initial article of prior knowledge, which is the inherent nature of QED,” Anna replied.

“What about prima facie?” Jon challenged.

“It refers to the conditions for the establishment of truth. Under the absolute meta-factual definition of it, it is accorded the privilege of being so only if it can prove it is not otherwise,” Anna replied.

They order that Bella’s permanent record be expunged of all mention of cheating, and her schooling befitting someone of Bella’s intellectual capacity and standing. Finally, the school is ordered to pay for damages and costs and make a public apology for damaging her reputation.

Jon and everyone else are in shock; they’ve never heard Anna talk like this before. Jon hears a far-off voice. “Hey,” Emily says, but he can see her across the room; the same voice, this time louder and more insistent: “Hey, Jon, are you okay?”

Jon is still disoriented. “What exactly is going on?” Emily moves in front of him. “Look at me, Jon. You okay?” Jon rubs his head. “You were lost in thought or something for about twenty minutes. Are you sure you don’t want me to call Dr. Harris?”

“I think I’ll be fine,” Jon says to an anxious Emily. Despite his disconcerting expression, Emily, who is only now persuaded, comes over and sits beside him.