Chapter 4

The day's flew by; I spent almost every second with Willow. I read her stories, we went on picnics with Olya tagging along, she sat in my lap during dinner and I fed her, despite the fact that she was four years old and perfectly capable of feeding herself. She wasn't normally a very talkative type, but she seemed to understand that I would be going away for a long time, so she talked a lot, as if trying to make good memories. Or at least, that's the idea my sad mind projected. It's the last day for us to stay here, in the only place I've ever known. The depressing and terrifying thought of going to some unknown school where I would undoubtably be behind in my studying looms over me, like a cloud that darkens my mood. I snap at everyone but Willow about everything they do, and even I realize I'm becoming unbearable to be around. My parents avoid me, constantly finding reasons to be elsewhere, like tending to Willow, cleaning the already clean kitchen, and randomly shouting about needing a walk right before they flee from the house. Olya however, snaps back at me, shoves me out of the way, and even locked me in the broom closet after I told her that her hair needed to be washed. She seemed to be under more stress than I was.

Really though, I don't care, I only care about spending time with Willow. It's favoritism, I know, but I can't bring myself to spend time with my parents. They're the ones sending me away, after all.

I'm in a depressed heap on my bed when my mom cautiously enters. "Sweetie, it's the last day."

"And who's fault is that?" I snap back.

She winces. "Won't you have dinner with us?"

"No, I'd rather not have to look at you."

She sighs. "You know we're doing this for you, don't you?"

"Why've you been staying home?" I change the subject.

I can feel her sit on the edge of the bed and I hear a loud smack, followed by a loud, "Ouch!"

I jump up, detangling myself from my bed sheet as I do.

"Mom! Are you oka..." she sits, perfectly fine, on my bed, the broom handle she hit my bed with grasped firmly in her hand. she beams. "See, you still care."

I gape at her. "You... EVIL WOMAN!" I shout, kicking the blanket at her, I realize a second later that I look like a toddler having a temper tantrum. She laughs and I struggle to continue glaring at her.

"Gosh, mom. What do you want," I grab the sheet and cover my grinning face.

"Dinner with my favorite kid..."

"Favorite?" I immediately jump up and rush to tell Olya, laughing again.

I'm out of the room so quickly that I don't hear the rest of her sentence.

"...and maybe you too."

She shakes her head, laughing faintly, and begins to cry.