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A surge of paralysis roots me in the leather chair. The air in my mother’s breezy office has suddenly become thick with uncertainty, and I can’t seem to breathe or utter a single syllable. My heart is pounding in my throat, suffocating me. Simultaneously, my stomach plummets like a boulder.
“What?” I manage to squeak out.
My mom smiles like she didn’t just single-handedly vault me into an epic panic attack. “I think it’ll be fun. You’ve never traveled anywhere. We’ll be renting a gorgeous condo. There’s a pool, and it’s near the beach.”
I blink at her. “You expect me to go with you?”
“Of course you’re coming with us. We’re a family.”
My pulse races with anxiety. “Mom, I’m in my senior year. What about my job? And my friends? What about Lily? I finally have a real best friend—something you’ve been telling me I need for years. For the first time, I’m happy. Like, really, truly happy.”
“You can make new friends in California. Lily isn’t going anywhere. You two can call each other, text, and video chat. She can even come visit. Your father and I will pay for her travel. The time will fly by, and we’ll be back here in a year or two. I think you’ll love California. And”—she smiles and leans across her desk—“your father said he’ll buy you a car as soon as we get there. You’re not going to be able to walk to school there like you can here. It’s too far away.”
I don’t even want a car anymore. All I want is to stay here. The thought of moving away from Lily, Alex, Cherry, and everything I love is catastrophic to me. My brain can’t even comprehend not being able to walk through the path in the woods to see them, or sitting at my little reception desk at the animal hospital, hanging out with Lily every day after school, planning our weekend sleepovers, or sneaking moments with Alex to talk about art and life. Hoping with all my heart he might smile at me or accidentally touch my hand.
“Screw that,” I say, standing up. “I don’t want new friends. I love living here. I love the fall and the winter. I love the snow. I love my life here.”
“I know it all feels like the end of the world right now, Penny. But trust me, once we get there, you’ll love it.”
“No, I won’t. I’ll hate every minute of it, and you know it.” I grapple for more valid reasons for why I shouldn’t move across the country. “What about my therapy appointments?” I only go once a month now, but I’ve been seeing my doctor since I was six years old. “Even Dr. Sloane said I’m doing really well now. If you take me away from everything I love, I’ll be depressed again. Is that what you want?”
She sighs and folds her hands on her desk. “Of course not. Your father and I put a lot of thought into that. We can find you a doctor in California, or you can do televisits with Dr. Sloane. Life is about learning to change and adapt. You’re almost an adult. You need to experience that. You can’t just live in a bubble.”
I want to live in my bubble.
“Can’t I just stay here? Let Dad’s colleague live somewhere else.”
“Absolutely not. You can’t live in a big house all by yourself with no supervision. What if you got hurt or sick?”
The pit of my stomach burns with anxiety-induced acid. I can’t believe this is happening. They can’t do this to me. I’m an adult, a marr—
My brain zaps with a sharp jolt. Shaking my head, I reorganize my thoughts. I’ll be eighteen in a few months—an adult who can make my own decisions.
There has to be something I can do to stop this.
“When is this move supposed to be happening?” I ask.
“Next month. We’re going to start packing our things and putting most of them in storage until we come back. We’ll only take what we need. You’ll probably want to get a whole new wardrobe when we get there since the weather will be so different. We’ll go shopping, it’ll be fun.”
It won’t be fun. I’ve always hated shopping. My idea of shopping is ordering things online, keeping my fingers crossed that it’ll all fit when it arrives, and hiding whatever doesn’t fit in the back of my closet.
Tears pool in my eyes. “None of this is going to be fun. You’re ruining my life. This is supposed to be one of the best years of my life. Senior prom. Graduation. Getting a car. Spending time with my friends. I won’t know anyone in a new school. I’ll be an outcast.”
“Please don’t be dramatic, Penny. You’re beautiful and smart. You’ll probably be even more popular at a new school.” Her desk phone rings and she reaches for it. “I have to take this call. We can talk more later.”
