Chapter 2

“What? Why?” I blurted, no longer concerned about the quiet couple in the corner. “Are we moving?”

“Not permanently,” said Mo, as she sucked the dregs of her iced tea through the straw. “Just through August. I’ve already found a renter for the house while we spend a glorious summer in the Sunflower State.”

She swept her arm toward a rose bush as if we’d already arrived.

“The what state?”

“Kansas! Where the earth is flat and the sky is wide, and sunflowers thrive. You can practically live on the seeds—not to mention, the blossoms are spectacular. Nothing like a field filled with sunflowers.”

“Why Kansas?” I asked.

“It just so happens Richard received a significant grant to paint outdoor murals at the Topeka Museum of Recycled Art. I am so proud of him, putting himself out there, I could burst!”

My mother often makes huge, random decisions without considering how those decisions will affect other people. So even though I was upset to hear this news for the first time, nothing Mo did shocked me anymore. Especially since the divorce.

My family fell apart a year ago when Mo and Dad told Viva and me that they could no longer live together. They had always argued a lot, but then suddenly they stopped fighting and began speaking calmly to each other, like they were strangers. That’s when I knew something was really wrong.

Mo eventually explained that she and my father were simply different peas meant to live in separate pods. You would think two adults could figure that out before they got married and had kids.

My father, Timothy Moon, is a professional cellist who teaches at Prelude Conservatory, a special college for musicians. Right after my parents told us they were splitting up, Dad and his cello moved into one of the faculty apartments at the school, which is about an hour north, in the town of Bittersweet.

According to the custody agreement, Viva and I were supposed to stay at Dad’s place two weekends a month. But then Viva turned eighteen and claimed she no longer had to do anything our parents told her to do. A few months later, after her first semester at the state university in Burlington, she quit college to work on a soybean farm. And now none of us see her.

So I’m the only one who visits Dad.

He doesn’t even own a real bed, only a lumpy pull-out couch and a reclining chair that he sleeps in whenever I stay over. And since he doesn’t have any cooking facilities, other than a small fridge and a microwave, everything we eat in his apartment is either pre-packaged or take-out food. But staying with him is still better than being at home.

Almost immediately after my father left us, Mo started dating, which shocked me. I assumed she was chatting it up with customers at Fred’s Meds, where she works as a pharmacist, and that maybe one of the elderly widowers had asked her out.

But then one day, Mo left her laptop open and there it was: the profile of a 47-year-old real estate agent (and amateur magician). A dating site. Besides being disgusted, I was stunned that she’d actually figured out how to use it. She still has trouble texting a coherent message.

Mo met a variety of men before settling on Richard, the mumbler, a painfully quiet artist.

We happen to have an old wooden shed in our backyard, where my dad used to store all our bicycles. But within weeks, Mo gave the shed to Richard to use as a painting studio. Soon after, he got full access to our tiny two-bedroom house. So did his six-year-old son, George, who stays with him—and now us—on Wednesdays and Saturdays. It felt as if I’d lost my family, my privacy, and my body all in one year. And now we were moving?

Our waiter arrived with the check and, after asking for a container to take home a leftover pickle and five sweet potato fries, Mo handed him a credit card.

“But Kansas sounds hot,” I said. “And annoying and boring.”

“Of course Kansas isn’t boring—it’s chock full of things to do and see! We’ll have tons of adventures. And you can thank Richard for that.”

I had yet to come across one reason to thank Richard. As far as I was concerned, he and his strange kid were unwelcome guests in my life and our already crowded house.

Mo signed the receipt, then insisted we take a loop through the center of town on our way back to the car.

***

The potential for humiliation worried me whenever I walked in public with my mother, so I kept my gaze glued to the ground.

“Well, I can’t go with you,” I said, staring down as I followed her. “I already signed up at the humane society.”

“Don’t you think they have stray animals in the Midwest?”

“Of course, but I promised Megan.”

“I’ll call her mother and explain. Maybe Megan can fly out for a visit.”

I glanced around to make sure it was safe to look up. We were standing in front of a pottery shop.

“This doesn’t make any sense, Mo. Why can’t Richard go alone?”

“Alone? Don’t you think he deserves to have our support?”

“But what about your job? Have you thought about that?”

Mo cupped her hands around her eyes and studied a display of matching coffee mugs. “The drugstore was more than happy to give me a leave of absence. So now we can all move to Topeka for the summer and cheer on Richard in his groundbreaking endeavor.”

“Wait. Did you just say all of us? Even Viva?”

This trip wouldn’t be so horrible if it meant spending time with my sister. Even though Viva lived only a couple hours away, none of us had heard from her since last Thanksgiving, the same week Richard had moved in.

“There’s no point in asking Viva,” she said as she continued walking. “Your sister still refuses to answer my calls or emails.”

My heart sank. I tried not to take Viva’s absence personally, but it didn’t seem fair that I was forced to deal with the leftovers of our family by myself.

“Then who’s all of us if Viva isn’t going?”

Across the street, a girl flipped her long, silky hair behind her shoulders. It was Lux Lockhart, the new kid at school. Even though she’d moved into town only a month or so ago, the entire sixth grade seemed to be obsessed with her. Apparently, she was rich and used to live somewhere in Europe. Luckily, she didn’t seem to notice me.

“Let’s see,” said Mo, “there’s you, Richard, myself, and then Richard’s brother may join us for a week or two.”

Lux checked her phone, then rushed over to some guy waiting in front of a vegan restaurant and they hurried in together.

“And, of course, little Georgie will be with us.”

I whipped around. “George? For the whole summer?”

“His mother loves the idea,” said Mo as she stopped and pressed her face against the window of a candle shop. “She thinks it would be a fantastic experience for him.”

“Of course she thinks it would be a fantastic experience for him, so she can get rid of that brat for three months. There’s no way I’m going if he’s going.”

This was such typical bulldozer behavior from my mother, shoving everyone together in a heap first, and then attempting to smooth over the pile of problems she creates later.

“For crying out loud, Agnes, you can’t stay home alone for the summer,” said Mo, as I followed her through a door into a clothing shop, “and you can’t live in that sardine can at the college with your father for more than a weekend. Besides, this will be good for you and Georgie.”

“Are you joking? That kid isn’t normal, Mo. He talks in a fake British accent and collects buttons.”

“Oh, that’ll pass. Georgie is a very bright boy who’s having a little difficulty filtering his emotions,” said Mo. Then she gazed in a large arc, as if watching a puff of dust float through the air. “Now, where should we start?”

That’s when I realized I’d been lured into another sea of swimwear.

“I’m not going to Kansas, Mo, and I’m definitely not trying on any more bathing suits!”

Before she could respond, I escaped from the store and ran all the way back to the car.