Moving Out

Paige

The next morning, I sat at the high countertop in the kitchen across from Mom, picking at the final few pieces of bacon she’d insisted Olivia put on my plate that remained of my breakfast—well, brunch, because I’d slept in again. Olivia puttered around behind us, training a new girl who’d introduced herself earlier as Miranda. The new girl seemed to be keeping up with Olivia decently well, but every time Mom or I made a noise, she whipped around like she was expecting an army of men with guns to come crashing through the door.

“So, I’ve got news.” Mom bit her lip, an old habit from when she knew I wouldn’t like what came next.

Normally, my stomach would drop, and I’d start worrying about what else could go wrong. Now, my chest lightened. Had Tom already talked to her about moving out? Did he maybe even make it seem like it was his idea, or something about the house, or anything that wouldn’t tell her for certain I couldn’t have her around while I figured out who the hell Now-Pai