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Her eyes go round. “You saved them.”
“That’s right, honey. They’re safe now.” I wish I was her age again. The only thing she has to worry about is making sure she has all her toys. “Can you believe it? You’re going to have your own bedroom. I wonder if you’ll be able to pick out the furniture and stuff.”
“I’m sure someone has arranged all of that.” Mom goes through the dresser drawers one last time. “Honestly, Morgan. Try not to get her hopes up too high.”
I can’t say anything right. “I bet you’ll love it,” I whisper, and my sister beams. It’s so easy being around her. I don’t have to work to make her love me the way I do with my mother. And for all the work, it hasn’t made a bit of a difference.
“All of your things are already in the bags, in case you were wondering.” I don’t miss the condescending tone of her voice. “Also, you’re welcome.” I watch as she closes the dresser drawers with a sigh, biting the inside of my cheek to stop me from responding. “That’s everything. Are you girls ready to go?”
Ready to go? I just got here, I want to say, but I’m definitely ready to be out of this hotel for good. “I guess so. Right?” I look at Lucy, who nods her little head. Wisps of hair fly into her face.
Mom looks down at her, shaking her head. A look of disgust shimmers in her eyes. “You look like you just rolled out of bed.” She searches through her purse and pulls out a hairbrush, thrusting it my way. “Morgan, call down to the front desk and tell them we’re ready to have the bags taken down to the car and make sure her hair gets brushed. I don’t want us looking like slobs. ”
“There’s a car?” I ask, shocked, completely ignoring her insult. I learned a long time ago not to let things my mother says bother me. At this point, I’m pretty sure I’ve grown immune to her insults.
She rolls her amber-colored eyes. “No, we’re walking. Would I say there was if there wasn’t one? Yes, it’s waiting, and I’m sure the driver is getting impatient.” I make the call while brushing my sister’s hair. I know better than to let Mom do it when she’s in this kind of mood, all amped up, full of piss and vinegar.
When we walk out of the hotel, a sleek black car pulls up within minutes, and a heavy-set man climbs out of the driver’s seat to grab our bags. “I’ll take those,” he says.
Before I can respond, my mother ushers us into the back seat, and I barely have time to take one last look at the hotel that’s been our home for months. Not that I’ll miss it or anything like that. I knew this was coming, but it still feels awfully sudden. I already felt shaky and unsure of myself when I got back from school, so this isn’t helping.
Still, it’s easy to feel happy when Lucy is practically glowing. She has a million questions, and now that there’s a witness in the car, Mom is happy to indulge them. “You’re going to have so much room to run around and play. And Bridget will be there. You like her, right?”
“Yeah, she knows lots of fun games and does silly voices when she reads to me.”
“Her room will be right next to yours, so she’ll never be far if you ever need anything.” I have to bite my tongue and look out the window rather than ask where Mom plans on being when Lucy needs something. She’d rather have the nanny handle it.
She must be in a very good mood because she even turns her smile on me. “And you’ll finally have all the free time you want. No more babysitting.”
“But we’ll still play together,” I tell Lucy in case she gets the wrong idea. Our mother might be ditching her, but I’m not. She’ll never have to wonder if I love her.
“Of course, of course.” Mom types something on her phone. “He’s so excited about this. It’s adorable.” She looks and sounds happier than I can remember her ever being. It’s almost enough to make me think this could work. Maybe I haven’t been giving her enough credit. She’s selfish and self-centered, but maybe she found the right person who can wake her up and pull her out of that.
There’s almost hope in my heart by the time we roll through a very fancy, expensive-looking neighborhood. Lucy’s eyes are almost bulging out of her head, and I sort of feel the same way. These aren’t houses we’re riding past. They’re mansions with three-car garages, pools, and fountains. These aren’t regular people’s homes. They’re celebrity homes.
