Page 9 of Before We're More Than Friends
Kami scoffed. “Now is the right time?”
“Please, guys,” Mom pleaded, eagerness in her voice. “This is a big opportunity I took a lot of time to consider. I hope . . . I hope you understand why I said yes. This is something I wanted so . . .” She sniffled, her eyes watering behind her black-framed glasses.
“I’m happy for you,” I finally managed to say, though my insides felt everything but. I was still stuck on the fact that we were moving away from our forever home, let alone in three weeks.
“Thank you.” Mom’s words were almost a whisper.
Dad squeezed her hand, despite being almost emotionless a few seconds ago.
“I’m happy for you too,” Kami said. Her face was still red, but her body was less tense. “I’m very proud of you.”
“Thank you.” Mom sniffled again before getting up from the table. “I need to . . . I just . . .” She shook her head, her eyes glistening with tears as she ran out of the room.
“That honestly went better than how I expected it to,” Dad said.
“Your children being upset and your wife running away in tears is better?” Kami shot up from the table, the anger back inher voice. She stormed out of the room and up the stairs, her footsteps heavy and uneven.
Dad looked at Houston, who was sitting by his dog bowl, looking confused, before his eyes met mine. “I’m sorry, kid. I didn’t want this to happen this way. But I wasn’t going to get in the way of your mom’s career.”
“I understand.” But that didn’t make it any easier.
Not to my surprise, neither Kami nor Mom came back to dinner. Instead, I awkwardly watched Dad finish his dinner in silence while I was on the verge of throwing up. The worst had only started.
Not only were we going to a brand-new state with no Toby, no adorable Dallas animals from our local shelter, and no special Texas Ash Tree, but now my family had shaken itself into an earthquake.
These four walls contained my entire world. I’d taken my first steps here. We’d adopted Houston as a puppy and brought him here, where he chewed all our shoes overnight. The carpet in my room had been thrown away once Houston had too many accidents on it. Kami and I had bruised ourselves from falling down the stairs too many times to count. Dad had caused a fire while grilling in the backyard. Mom had brought home a family of bunnies that camped out in her bedroom.
When I’d told Chloe about the move that horrible night, I was sobbing at my laptop, my hands shaking so badly that I kept spelling like a first grader. The one thing I’d left out was the exact place I was moving to. She knew I was moving to Nevada, but not that I was moving to her middle-to-upper-class suburban town, April Springs.
Chloe and I had never told each other our real names. After a few months in the friendship, we decided it would be better for us to keep our identities private. No face reveals, no sharing social media accounts that had our real identity—not that I hadsocial media up until a few months ago—or anything that could reveal ourselves. And we were fine with it. To my knowledge.
But knowing that I was moving to herexactcity made me feel exposed. We both didn’t want to meet each other out of fear, even though we’d never admitted it. I knew I was going to her school, the only public high school in the city, and would be in the same grade. I didn’t know what animal shelter she volunteered at, but if it was the same one that my mom had gotten the job at, I wouldn’t be surprised. I doubted we’d live in the same neighborhood, given that her dad was a millionaire while my parents were upper middle class at best. But the possibility was still there. There were more possibilities than what I was comfortable with.
For two people who are long-term best friends, you are both cowards.
Houston nudged me again, still on his back, as if saying,stop spiraling and keep petting me. I’ll get rid of your worries. You know, until you decide to be responsible again.
Smiling, I rubbed his soft fur before pushing my backpack away from me. “I wish I had your luxurious lifestyle.”
Houston licked my hand.That’s why I’m happy I’m just a dog.
“Can you stop moping and help me bathe these cats?”
I sighed and got up from my chair in the shelter’s tiny break room. “I’m having a crisis.”
“Yeah, I’m having a crisis too—the cats still need to be bathed, and I can’t do it myself.” Toby gestured to his arms, which still had scars from the last time he’d bathed the cats by himself. Two months ago.
“I’m coming, I’m coming.” As I followed him into the roomwhere the cat tub was, I caught a glimpse of my mom in her office. She was packing her things into boxes. My chest tightened.
“Who’s doing what?” I asked Toby as we entered the room.
“You help the cats into the tub, and then we’ll bathe them together.”
“You’re having me do the hard parts?”
He turned on the water for the bath. “Why do you complain about all your tasks? You’ve played around with dogs in the mud without backtalk.”
“First of all, you’re not my boss, so I can backtalk you all I want.”
