My face is buried in the palms of my warm hands….thinking…waiting…deciding. I feel my parents’ eyes on me, stuck, with Tacky Glue.
My father is the first to shatter the intense silence, “So, do you want to go or not?”
An odd silence once again moves into the room. Sitting beside me, my brother sighs.
Finally, I let out, “No, I love this house.”
“You will regret it,” my mother responded.
“I know I will, but we’ve been looking…” I break off in mid-sentence and stand up. “Okay, let’s go…” I say, sounding defeated.
Next thing I know, I’m standing in a real nice house (with my own room).
“Welcome to your new home, Rikki.”