“Is this the right one?” Marian holds up my ratty, but lucky, Donald Driver Packers jersey.

I nod. She and her mom had gone over to the house to get a few more things for me to pack. They were able to dodge reporters by cutting through our neighbors’ backyard and using the back door to get into the house.

I’m leaving tomorrow. Tomorrow. Paula didn’t feel the need to allow me to stay even an extra day. They argued that the press would catch on. I don’t care what their excuse was.

Tomorrow, I’m getting on a plane for the first time in my life and flying to Florida. With my new family.

I can’t say goodbye to Dad. I can’t leave the house because of the media. I can’t go to school.

Maybe it’s best for me to go away. Maybe everybody in Valley Falls will be better off without me.

I fold up the shirt and put it in the suitcase, the third one I’ve packed for this trip. It sits on top of the ragged teddy bear Paula gave me yesterday. The rest of my stuff is going to be boxed up and sent to me. All of Dad’s belongings will be put in storage.

Ms. Pieper is working with administrators to transfer all my credits and transcripts with my correct social security number. Next week, I’ll be going to a new school in Florida.

It’s all happening too fast.

Isn’t the law supposed to protect its citizens? Instead, it’s taking me away from my home and placing me with a stranger.

“Do you want some flip-flops or something?” Marian digs through her closet.

I nod. I’ve realized while packing that I don’t have a lot of warm-weather clothes. Even in the summer we rarely get above eighty. It’s currently eighty-two degrees in Tampa. In December.

That doesn’t seem right.

“Are you going to talk?” Marian prods me.

I shake my head again.

“Well, you’re probably going to change your mind when you find out what I have to say next. But, honestly, at this point, I’d take you yelling at me over the silent treatment.”

I groan and fall back on her bed. I know what this means. I know exactly what this means.

Since I came home with the news yesterday—and my subsequent freak-out and breakdown, which kept me in tears and locked in Susan’s room—the house has had a steady stream of visitors and phone calls. People wanting to see me before I leave.

I don’t want to see anybody. I don’t want to say goodbye. Saying goodbye when I have no idea when or even if I’ll ever be back is going to be impossible.