Ivy crosses her arms. “Well, there has to be space for George and Rainbow.”

My dad takes a deep breath that looks like it hurts.

“Listen,” he says. “About Rainbow.”

“He’s coming with us,” Ivy says. “Right, Mom?”

My mom sucks in her bottom lip. That’s what I do when I feel like I’m going to cry and my lip starts quivering.

“We have to!” Ivy says before my mom can say no.

I want to comfort her, but I don’t know how.

“Apartment buildings don’t have space for ponies,” my dad says.

“But . . . what will happen to him?” Ivy is crying now. Big tears slip down her grimy cheeks and leave a cleanish trail. “We can’t desert him!”

A tear slips down my mom’s cheek, too. She quickly wipes it away. I don’t think I’ve ever seen my family cry in my whole life as much as I have in the past two days.

“We’ll find a good home for him,” she says quietly.

“We will,” my dad agrees.

Ivy looks at me. “You’ll save him, won’t you, Rach? Maybe Micah can keep him.”

I hadn’t thought of Micah before. “Maybe,” I say. “We can ask.”

“He’ll do it,” Ivy says. “I know he will. Micah loves Rainbow.”

I put my arm over her shoulder and pull her to me. “We’ll see,” I say, which is what our parents always say when it’s too hard to say no.

“It’s not fair,” she says quietly. “Poor Rainbow.”

My dad turns to my mom. “I’ve got this,” he says. “It’s OK.”

My mom turns and walks toward my parents’ bedroom, probably because she doesn’t want us to see her upset again.

“How about we go to the beach?” my dad asks. “Your mom and I took the day off because we weren’t sure how long we’d be at the bank. It’s not worth it to go to work this late in the day anyway. Let’s not waste what’s left.”

“I don’t want to leave,” Ivy says.

“C’mon,” I say. “I can’t take another minute of SpongeBob.”

“I feel so sad,” Ivy says, rubbing her tummy. “I feel like my body wants to be sick.”

My dad and I exchange a look, and I feel helpless all over again. Between the three of us, we fill the room with this feeling.

“I want to go,” I say. “I need to. You too, Ivy. Let’s get out of here for a little while.”

“Go get your suits on, and I’ll meet you in the driveway,” my dad says.

A few minutes later, I go out to the driveway to find my dad staring at the Bittersweet Farm sign. OK, I think, glaring at the sign. There’s been an awful lot of bitter around here. How about some sweet?