“We’re going to go live somewhere else?!” I shout at mom, stomping my feet.
“Why?” “I have a job, honey. If, if, daddy were here, I wouldn’t have to, to...” Her voice dies away. “Just go to your room, Nina. You can help the movers pack it up,” she finally says.
I go upstairs and pack up my porcilan pig collection. The next thing I know, we are speeding down the street behind the big moving truck that holds all of our stuff from the house.
“Mom, can I have some gum?” I say as we park at a restroom stop. “Sure, honey,” mom sighs. I grab the money that she holds out to me, open the car door, and run out of it.
When we arrive at our new house, I notice how drab it is compared to our old house.
“Mom?” I ask. “Yes, honey?” She responds. “Do we have to live here?” “Yes, honey,” mom sighs.
This is the worst news of my life.
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