“There are ten houses squashed into the space of our old garden,” I said wryly.
That didn’t blow the wind out of her sails for long. “Right, but! There’s a hospital and a brand new shopping centre not far from here. And a cinema with more than one screen! We don’t even really need a car with all of the buses in and out. And the school’s not so much bigger than your old one when you really think about it. And even if it is, look at it this way, you’ll have so many more friends to choose from.”
Wishful thinking. I couldn’t even get directions without alienating people. “But the garden is tiny.” I bit on my lip. Our old garden had been my dad’s pride and joy. I hated the thought of somebody else digging around in it, ruining his work. And we didn’t even have anything to replace it with. What was he going to do now?
“It’ll be less work,” Dad, ever the optimist, said with a wink, passing us to get to the moving van.
I gazed after him, wondering if he resented me deep down. “Most of the houses look exactly the same. If I hadn’t seen the moving van outside, I wouldn’t have found my way back from the corner shop.” I decided not to mention I actually got lost and instead held up the shopping bag full of bread, deli meat, butter, milk, and teabags. “But at least they were open.”
“See?” Mam said. “Convenience.” She checked her watch. “Back home, the shop would have been closed for the day already.”
“Wow,” I said. “You foundonepro.”
She kissed my cheek then moved on.
“How was your walk?” Dad asked as he carried a trunk toward the house.
I followed him with the shopping. “Well, at the shop, a little girl screamed that I was a ghost, and a Neanderthal of a teenage boy tried to call me an albino but managed to make up a brand new word instead. I’m pretty sure they have more than their fair share of idiot in the gene pool here.”
“See?” Dad said with a grin. “You’re already meeting new people. That wouldn’t have happened back home.”
I headed into the kitchen and shouted over my shoulder, “That’s a bit hard when you’ve already met everyone.”
And I didn’t know how to make friends with people I hadn’t known since playschool. Even back in our tiny village where everyone knew each other’s business, I’d had few friends. Less now.
I put on the kettle and started on tea and sandwiches for my parents and myself. The house was fine. The area was fine. And apart from some idiots, I was sure the people were fine. But it wasn’t home, and that was all on me.
Making a fresh start wasn’t as easy as it sounded. I’d always stood out in the wrong ways—even the leader of my drama group had done his best to put me in the back to avoid notice, but I’d grown taller than everyone. With hair so blond, it was almost white, eyes such a pale grey, they were almost colourless, and parents who looked nothing like me, I had never fit in a comfortable box for anyone. But I could have outlasted the rumours. I was used to people whispering behind my back. It was when they started in on my parents that it grew harder to stomach.
Mam stepped into the kitchen, wiping her brow. Her hair had been tied back in a messy bun. I noticed a couple of new silver strands at the sides. “Oh, great, you already started. I’m parched.” She stretched. “And exhausted.”
“You have too much stuff,” I remarked. “Clutter queen.”
She grinned. “It’s hard to know what I’ll want to keep. Imagine if I look for something in ten years and then remember we threw it out when we moved.”
I stirred a spoonful of sugar into her tea. “I can guarantee you it won’t be a Christmas decoration I made out of an egg carton at the age of four.”
“Then you don’t know me at all.” She patted my back. “I’ll finish up. You go make your father take a break. He might actually listen to you.”
I found Dad in my new bedroom, trying in vain to install my old lampshade. My peach-chested lovebirds squawked angrily in the corner, irritated by all of the disruption. They were super into each other’s company, and they had just become my only friends.
“It’s not going to fit,” I said from the doorway. “Nothing fits here.”
Dad looked at me, his façade dropping momentarily. “I know you’re not happy, Margo, but this was for the best. We needed a fresh start.”
The unfairness of it all burned in my chest. “Dad, I swear I did nothing wrong.”
“Iknow you didn’t.” He gave up on the lampshade and stepped off the stool.
I looked away. Even the therapist they’d sent me to claimed I was attention-seeking. He had to doubt sometimes.
“Margo, look at me. There isnothingwrong with you. Your mother and I aren’t blaming you for any of it.”
“Then why am I being punished?” I heard the whine in my voice and cringed. Inside my head, I had words that sounded reasonable and mature, but as soon as I opened my mouth, a four-year-old started crying.
“The last thing we’re trying to do is punish you.” He squeezed my shoulder. “You know what people are like. How they push. They got at you until you snapped. Everything would have kept escalating. You screaming at your principal in front of the entire school was about as far as I was willing to watch it go.”
“IknowI overheard her badmouthing you,” I began, but he held up his hand to stop me.