Page 78 of Borrow My Heart

Dad lifted my suitcase into the trunk next to Zoey’s. “Text me when you get there, please.” He hugged me and kissed the top of my head, then repeated the action with my sister.

“Where are your shoes?” Zoey asked him.

“Under the bench by the front door,” I answered for him.

Our dad smiled. “Apparently I’m predictable.”

“Everyone knows that, Dad,” Zoey said.

“Drive safe,” he said.

I flung my backpack of snacks onto the floor of the passenger side, then climbed in.

Dad waved to us from the front porch as we drove away.

“You’re okay, right?” Zoey asked. “You’ll be nice to Mom?”

I rolled my eyes. “Yes, I’ll be on my best behavior, Boss Lady.”

“Was that an example of things youwon’tsay?”

I pulled a bag of gummy bears out of my backpack and threw one at her head.

She laughed.

“Is this what a commune is?” I asked as we turned onto a dirt road lined with small houses and RVs and tents. A big garden and a firepit were to the left, in what looked like a common area. “Does Mom live in a commune?”

“I don’t know,” Zoey said softly. For the first time today she sounded wary.

For some reason, I wasn’t surprised. This was exactly the kind of place I pictured our mom living.

She pointed at my phone. “Will you call her? Maybe we made a wrong turn.”

I dialed our mom and listened to the phone ring.

“Hello,” she answered.

“I think we’re here. How do we know which one of these tiny houses is yours?”

“I’m the bus toward the back. I’ll come out.”

“She’s the—”

“I heard,” my sister said. She continued forward, slowly, as if delaying our arrival would make this place different by the time we got there. It didn’t. We stopped in front of a literal bus at the end of the road. Its sides and windows were covered in murals of bright colors. It had no wheels, but it had a wood porch. Our mom stood on that porch with a smile. She looked exactly like I remembered and yet not. Older, less put together.

Pine trees surrounded the bus. The whole commune was in the middle of a forest. She had loads of potted plants on her porch and I was surprised to see they were thriving.

Our mom smiled as we climbed out of the car. “Girls! You made it!”

“Hi,” I said, because my sister’s voice seemed to have been sucked out of her.

“Look at you, Bird! You’re growing up fast. You look just like me. Doesn’t she look exactly like me, Zoey?” our mom said.

The words bit only a little, and I managed to keep my response, about how growing only seemed fast when you didn’t see someone very much, to myself.

“Sort of,” my sister said, walking around to the trunk.

“Your flowers are pretty,” I said, pointing to the pots.

---