“I’m not happier,” I argued, even though I was. Iwasexcited to call California home, yet I was also sad.
Dad stopped at a red light. “Your mom wants this to be permanent.”
“I want it to be permanent too,” I admitted, but I was worried it wouldn’t be.
The light turned green, and my father said, “We’re going to do everything we can to stay this time.”
My mother shot him a look. “Don’t make it sound optional. We bought a house instead of renting, and wewillstay.”
My father didn’t argue with her, but he didn’t lie either. “I’m not trying to scare anyone. I’m being honest.”
That was the problem.
Honesty meant there was always a chance the Air Force might change its mind before my father retired in two years.
So even as Mom talked about Grandma’s cooking and Dad complained about the hour-long commute he would have eventhough the new assignment was a good one, my brain stayed stuck on the same question: What would happen if Dad got new orders before he planned on retiring? Would he retire early or make us move again?
Two days later,my parents got the keys to our new home. Dad turned the car onto our new street and pulled into a driveway without a word. I unbuckled my seatbelt quickly, excited to pick out my room.
“Rowan,” my father called. “Wait.”
I froze, my hand on the door handle. “Why?”
He glanced at Mom. “Let your mom get out first.”
She didn’t move. She just stared straight ahead, her hands in her lap, as if the house wasn’t real or something.
My dad leaned a little toward her. “Dawn. Are you okay?”
She nodded. “I’m fine.”
After a few seconds, we all finally got out, and I stared at the house.
It looked normal.
It was one-story with a walkway leading to the front door and a garage. I saw nothing special about it.
Mom lifted her phone and took a picture of the front of the house.
I scanned up and down the street, trying to see if anyone was watching the new family move in.
A kid stood in the driveway next door. He was about my age. His dark hair was messy like he’d spent the last couple of hours running around. He had a basketball tucked against his side and watched us without smiling.
I stared back.
“Go introduce yourself,” my mother urged.
I shook my head. “No.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “Why not?”
“Because I just got here,” I argued. “I haven’t even seen my room yet.”
She nudged me. “You have plenty of time to see the whole house. Go say hi. Make a new friend.”
“Fine,” I groaned.
I stopped at the edge of our driveway. The kid stayed where he was but kept staring at me.
