“Finally!” What sucked about packing the night before a trip was having nothing to do but wait in the minutes before departure. My phone, e-reader, and laptop were already tucked away in my backpack, and I didn’t want to risk losing the charge in case there was traffic on the Thruway. Who knew if the bus had outlets? With zero distractions, I’d spent the last half hour pacing the wood floor from one wall of the living room across the Bohemian area rug in the center to the window overlooking the park—known to the residents of our multi-building complex as “the Oval”—and back.

But the wait was almost over. Just in time for the nerves to kick in. Was I really doing this?

I shielded my eyes against the sun shining through the window. “Did you ever return my sunglasses?”

Mom had borrowed them to run an errand weeks ago. I hadn’t said anything because I’d “borrowed” the fuzzy purple hoodie now packed in my suitcase.

“Oops. Sorry! They’re on my desk. But hurry!”

“Relax!” It wasn’t going to take four minutes to grab my sunglasses. Still, I jogged the fifty feet to her room, finding the oversized white heart-shaped sunglasses where she said they’d be.

Having what I came for, I turned on my heel to leave the room, when a document caught my eye. It had the letterhead of our apartment’s management company. Without thinking, I read it. My heart rate quickened with each word.

When the apartment complex was first built in the mid-twentieth century, it was meant to provide affordable housing for war veterans and had remained rent-stabilized for decades. After it was sold to a real estate conglomerate in recent years, the majority of the apartments were rented at current market rates. Until now, we’d escaped the rent hikes. It seemed our luck had run out. According to this letter, we’d be losing our rent-stabilized status with our next lease, because we no longer met the economic qualifications, and upgrades to the common areas had increased the value of the unit. We could either sign a new lease for market price or vacate.

A cold sweat crept up my neck. There was no way my mom could (or should) handle the increase on her own. She made decent money, but rent already ate up most of what she brought home.