Dad interrupts her. “Thanks, Shawna.”

Kiera and I look at each other for a moment and then look away. I don’t really know how to talk about her dad, and I don’t think she does either.

I open my door, and Kiera follows me inside.

“Whoa,” says Kiera as she drops her backpack on my bed. “This is, like, basically what I remember your room looking like when y’all all lived together.” She turns to me. “Is this the same wallpaper?”

“Look closer,” I tell her.

She runs her fingers over the peach-colored walls and sees that the little pattern is completely painted by hand.

“This is painted?” she asks.

I nod. “Dad couldn’t find the matching paper, so he just painted it himself.”

She shakes her head in disbelief. “That’s kind of weird, but it’s really sweet too.”

I plop down in my desk chair. “It is, isn’t it?”

“I can’t believe how much this place looks like your other room. It’s like a museum, kind of. It’s like they never even got a divorce.”

“That’s sort of the point, I think.”

“What do you mean?”

“My mom calls it mirror houses. She didn’t want things to change for me too much, so she got my dad to rent this place and make it up to look almost like the old house. But there are still some differences if you look closely. A lot, actually.”

She turns around, looking at every detail. “Weird.”

“You’re not kidding.”

“But, like, is this house the exact same with all the same rooms and everything?”

I shake my head. “Not quite. Mom’s house has two bedrooms and this one has a third.”

“What does your dad keep in it?”

“Huh.” I think for a moment. “I’ve never actually been in there.”

“Can we go in there now?”

“Um, I don’t know.” I’ve convinced myself that whatever is behind that door is no big deal, but the way Kiera is pushing the issue makes me uneasy.

“It’s your house, isn’t it?”

I can’t help but feel a little defensive. Of course it’s my house. “I think it’s just his old stuff. Maybe later.” I clear my throat. “Um, so you know what your mom was talking about out there, right?”

“About my dad and your dad?”

“And how my dad is gay now.” I force my shoulders straight as I say it, just in case Kiera agrees more with her dad than her mom.

“What do you mean now? Isn’t that the kind of thing where you’re that way the whole time?”

I hold my hands up and shrug, a little relieved by her reaction. “I’m not really sure how all this works.”

She doesn’t really have much to say to that, so she loops her fingers through the carpet and says, “I heard my parents arguing about it. Your dad,” she clarifies. “As if they didn’t already have enough to argue about.”

I prickle at that. It’s not my dad’s fault that her parents are fighting. “I’m sorry, I guess? Maybe if your dad wasn’t . . . Never mind.”