I go to school the next day.

Berkeley stays home with Dad, which feels weird to say. Or think.

I told Berkeley she didn’t have to.

She could stay with Delilah or Melody or even Mrs. Sydney Gunnerson but she said it was okay.

“I want to be with Daddy.”

“Are you sure?” I asked her. She doesn’t understand. She doesn’t get it.

“Yes,” she said, her face fresh from a good night of sleep. “He said we could go on a bike ride.”

So she’s staying with him and I feel mad at her but also not mad at her because I want to go on a bike ride too but not really.

He is taking two weeks off from work until I finish school. He has to go to social services and he and Mom are going to blah blah blah blah figure it out blah blah blah blah blah.

Before I go, he and Berk eat breakfast and I say, “Did you get my emails?”

He says, “What emails?”

I say, “I emailed you.”

He says, “Which email?”

And I say, “Your email account.”

He says, “Oh, baby girl, I’ve had a new email address for ages.”

I say, “Have a fun day!”