“I’ll be with you in a minute, Rachel Roo,” my dad says. “Only thirty more to go!” He has a huge grin on his face, as if he’s having a great time, even though I can tell by how filthy and sweaty he is that he’s been doing this for at least an hour. The guy he’s working with looks at him like he’s insane. As I sit in the corner of the shop, my phone beeps. It’s a new message from Mom. Robert said we can start bringing things over this weekend. Before I know it, a couple of tears have trickled down my cheeks. “Ready to go get some dinner?” Dad asks. Then he must see my face because he rushes over. “Roo, what’s wrong?” I can’t exactly pretend that nothing is wrong, so I tell him about Marisol and Evan being mad at me and about the stupid mix-up with Chip-Chet. “And on top of all that,” I say, “I thought I was okay with the whole moving thing, but now I’m not so sure.”
