The move that brought Zing and Carly to a new town!
I wasn’t expecting anything unusual to happen when I got home from school on Wednesday. I ran inside, hung my stuff on one of the hooks in the room where we keep our jackets and backpacks, and hurried into the kitchen for a snack. Honestly, the smell of warm brownies was overpowering – in a good way – and I was so focused on pouring myself a glass of milk and helping myself to two squares from the plate on the table that I didn’t notice anything else.
My little sister Carly always seems to know when I’m home as soon as I come in the door. Today was no different; I could hear her making her way up the stairs from the playroom, so I poured her some milk while I was at it. She gave my legs a tight hug as I slid a brownie and a napkin over to where she was climbing onto a chair.
“Thanks, Danny,” she said with her biggest smile.
She’s a brownie-lover, too. It’s one of the many things we have in common, like watching ants on a spring day, catching fireflies on summer evenings, rustling through leaves in the fall, and building snowmen in the winter. I’d say that, all-in-all, for a three-year old, my sister is pretty cool.
She knelt on her chair – no booster seats for Carly – and took a sip of milk.
“How was your day?” I always asked.
“Good. I helped Mom rock Grace for her nap, and I fed the mice a very tiny bit of food at lunch.”
“Thanks.”
She nodded. “And then I took a nap. And now you’re here.”
I was settled back in my chair, happy that I had no homework for the weekend, when my mom came into the kitchen with Grace on her hip. I smiled at them as I imagined two solid days of soccer and swimming with my friends. And a bit of time with Carly. And the fact that the last day of fourth grade was in just two weeks.
“Daniel,” my mom said in a voice that made me stop with a brownie halfway to my mouth. “I have something to tell you.”
She only calls me Daniel when I’ve done something wrong or she wants my full attention. Either way, it never works because I stop listening immediately while wondering what I did or worrying about what’s so important. I looked around the kitchen, and that’s when I noticed a piece of paper and a realtor brochure sitting on the kitchen counter.
I groaned; I knew that brochure could only mean one thing. I took a bite of my brownie and braced myself.
“Your father is being – “
“No.”
I dropped my brownie. Even though I knew what was coming, I could not believe it was happening. We had already moved three times.
My mom nodded and continued with the same thing she said every time she told me we were moving. I could recite it with her, about the wonderful career opportunity for my father, the exciting adventure for our family, and the way I’d be making lots of new friends before I even knew it. Frankly, this little speech was getting old, and none of the things she mentioned had ever happened. I didn’t say a word.
“Danny?” She asked when she’d finished.
“When? Where?”
I wasn’t trying to sound nasty, but I could hear that I sounded kind of nasty. I felt bad about that for my mother, but I felt worse about that for me.
“In about three months. Sooner if we can manage it – “
“So, school will have started before we get to the new school?”
She looked sincerely sorry. “If we can get there sooner, we will. I promise. But there’s a lot to do.”
I sat straight up in my chair.
“How can there be so much to do? We still have boxes we haven’t unpacked from the last time.”
“Danny, you know we wouldn’t be moving again if it weren’t important for your dad’s career.”
I didn’t answer, and I could see I’d hurt her feelings, and I felt bad right away. She started to speak again but I spoke first.
“It’s okay, Mom. I know; we’ll do fine.”
I headed out the garage door and grabbed my bike.
“Yes, I’m wearing my helmet,” I called before my mom could tell me.
By the time I’d circled the block six times, I was tired. I headed inside, helped myself to some cold water, and went up to my room. Pete and Stinky were in their nest in their habitat. They wiggled their noses at me as I climbed up on the top bunk, out of Carly’s reach.
Of course, it wasn’t long until I heard her running down the hall to my door.
“Danny?” Since the door was open, she knocked on the jamb. “I’d like to come in, please.”
The thing about Carly is that she is very funny and very cute when she’s not taking the propellers off my Legos. But when I was in a bad mood, she could be a pest. But still …
“Come on in.”
She had her favorite stuffed dog with her.
“Butch wanted to say hello,” she said.
“Hello, Butch.”
“He’s sad.”
“How come?”
“He heard we’re moving.”
“And?”
“He’s not sure what that means.”
“Did he ask Mom?”
“No. She’s been arguing on the phone with Dad since you left.”
“Come on,” I said, helping her up the ladder to sit beside me.
Carly sat so close that she was nearly in my lap.
“Is there anything else Butch wants to know?”
“Why are you – He wants to know why you’re angry.”
Read Part 2 next week!