“You’re still planning that, are you? Even though you don’t like her.” Mom sips at her coffee while I enjoy a cluster of yogurty blueberries.

“You know, I didn’t. But she’s teaching me to swim and gave me that collar for Diesel. Helping me train him, too, and well … maybe she’s really not as bad as I thought.” As I tell her this, I realize I can’t remember the last time Morgan called Luanne “the brat,” either. She offered me money to help out with my bathing suit. Even when I was drowning, she was the one person who tried to find me in the water.

“Your father may be coming over with that movie. You sure you don’t want to stay and watch it?”

He’s still coming! Yay! “No, no. But Mom, is there any way you can bring me home some treats? Donut holes or something? Morgan’s got a brother and sister.”

“A hostess present. My, that’s considerate of you.” Mom reaches across the table to pat my shoulder.

Not that considerate. I wince with guilt. It’s to feed the cool girls, after all. A little get-together Mom knows nothing about.

“I’ll see what’s left over after my shift today. You just get me her parents’ phone number so that I can talk to them first.” She stands up and begins washing our breakfast dishes.

I freeze. “You mean her mom’s number?” Does Morgan’s mother even know I’m coming? I’ll have to check with Morgan first. “They’re separated, just like you and Dad.”

Mom frowns at me. “Whichever parent’s house you’re sleeping over at. That phone number.” She washes out her coffee cup. “Would you put these away?” She gestures to the drying rack. “I want to get some things together to bring to Cathie’s so the move’s not so hard.”

After I finish stowing the cutlery, Mom and I each grab a box of winter clothes and we stroll toward Aunt Cathie’s together, me with Diesel’s leash wrapped around my wrist.

“You sure you don’t want to leave the dog at home?” Mom asks.

“Oh, you don’t need Diesel around when Dad … I mean, when you’re trying to pack.”

Mom squints. “True enough, but can you manage like that right now?”

“Oh yeah. We’ve been working on getting Diesel to walk nice. Watch this.” We reach the corner and Diesel sits without being told. I slip him a wiener sliver. “Good dog!”

Thank you.

When the coast is clear, we cross to the other side. No yanking.

“My, that is impressive,” Mom says.

We walk a little farther, the box getting heavier as we go but Diesel still trotting along nicely.

“Rouff! Rouff!” Suddenly he does yank the leash, so hard I stumble forward and drop the box.

Long-eared thing!

A rabbit springs across the street.

“Ow! My arm, Diesel!” I tug him back. What is wrong with you? I thought you knew better.

Long-ears are still a trigger for me. Working on that.

“Lucky your box isn’t full of dishes,” Mom says as she turns in to Aunt Cathie’s driveway.