“She looks like her,” he says. “Tiger’s mom. Same eyes.”
“Yeah,” I agree.
“Why are you guys being so weird?” Zinnia says from behind us.
I turn around, pick her up, and turn her upside down, holding her from her legs. She laughs hysterically. “Cal!”
“Zinni!” I mock, placing her head nicely on the couch. “Don’t call us weird.”
“Jax is her boyfriend! So, you and Zeff are beingsoweird.”
I scoff, scrunching my nose at her.
She scowls at me. “Jax would beat you up.”
Jax says, “She’s right.”
I look down at her smug face. “So, Zinnia. Are you going to live with your mom?”
“No!” She sits up quickly. “I want to live with Lily…” She puts up four fingers. “Four-eva!”
I blink, watching Zinnia storm down the hall to her room. She shuts the door and then I go back to the same place I was. Where I’m classified as beingweirdto a ten-year-old girl.
We watch in silence for another few minutes. Then Tiger’s mom says something. Tiger nods and wipes her face.
A car I don’t recognize pulls up, and her mom gets inside.
Tiger stands there watching her pull away. She waves at her as they drive off.
“Should we—” Zephyr starts.
“Give her a minute,” Jax says.
Tiger finally turns, looking at us through the window. And then she walks back to the house. Her face is red. Eyes swollen.
She steps inside and closes the door quietly behind her.
Zinnia appears immediately from her room. “Where’s Mom?”
Tiger takes a breath. “So… she’s not going to stay here.”
Zinnia’s face falls. “Why?”
Tiger inhales, looking at the three of us and then back at Zinnia. “She wants to ease us into this transition and not... intrude.”
I scoff before I can stop myself. “She’s not intruding.”
Zephyr nudges me.
“But if that’s what you need,” I add, softer.
Tiger nods and tears start falling. “She knows of a place. A transitional housing program. She thinks it’s better this way.”
Jax is still watching Tiger closely, reminding me of the times when we’d sit outside of Tiger’s house.
“I feel so bad,” Tiger admits. Her voice breaks.
“Don’t feel bad,” we all say at the same time.
