It’s so strange to watch people pick up our things, inspect them, and then either put them down again or take them away. It reminds me of visiting the thrift stores with my mom, and how each thing we got from those stores had a story, just like our things do. And now they’ve gone to some new home to add to their stories. Knowing that makes the whole ordeal feel a little less awful somehow.

By the afternoon, about half of our things are gone. My dad makes us sandwiches for lunch, and Ivy and I take ours out back and sit in the shade to eat near Rainbow. My mom made a sign that says FREE TO A GOOD HOME with a picture of him on it and put it in a frame on one of the tables, but so far no one has shown interest.

“What if we make so much money at the sale, we can pay off the house?” Ivy asks with her mouth full.

“We won’t,” I say. “We owe thousands of dollars probably, and we’ll be lucky to make a few hundred today.”

“That’s because Mom and Dad are practically giving all our stuff away.”

“That’s because it’s mostly junk.”

She scrunches up her face and takes another bite.

“Rachel?” A familiar voice comes from the side of the house.

Ivy jumps up before I can and waves to Cybil as she comes around the corner.

“Hi!” she says, walking over to join us.

“Hi,” I say. “What are you doing here?” I don’t mean it to sound so unfriendly, but I can’t seem to help myself these days.

“I heard you’re moving,” she said. “Did you get my texts?”

Ivy plops down next to me. “Want to have a picnic with us?”

“Sure.” Cybil sits down on the old blanket we’ve brought out, and Ivy offers her a bite of her sandwich. “Uh, no thanks,” she says. “I hope it’s OK that I came by.”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Ivy asks.

I roll my eyes. “It’s fine,” I say. “I’m sorry I haven’t replied to you. I’ve been kind of busy.”

“I understand.” She glances over at Rainbow. “Cute pony.”

“That’s Rainbow,” Ivy says. “We have to find a home for him.”

“How come?”

“Because the apartment building we have to move to doesn’t allow ponies,” Ivy explains.

“You’re moving to an apartment?”

“Yes, because we can’t afford to live here anymore,” Ivy says matter-of-factly.

“Oh.”

“Ivy, maybe you could shut up,” I say.

She takes another huge bite of her sandwich and glares at me.

“Sorry you have to move,” Cybil says. “That stinks.”

I shrug, feeling awkward.

“So, where is your apartment? Are you moving far away?”