Oh, I was crushing big time on the guy. I mean, look at him, a handsome compact boy who walked with a spring in his step. His shoulders, a yard wide and tall like a towering spruce. And his soft blond curls reminded me of golden honey. I exhaled starry-eyed ogling Logan standing at the food counter. “He’s a he-man.” I let out a long sigh, instantly covering my mouth, eyes gone wide. “Tell me I didn’t say that out loud?” I swear I was about to die of shame.

“He-man!” Beck cackled, and Laurie followed. 

Then my small window of happiness came to a screeching halt like a plane nose-diving into the Atlantic Ocean. Sara, my mother, decided it was time to bugger off, pack our bags and vamoose to the next dive town, another town, another school, another miserable life. I didn’t know why I thought Sweetwater would be any different. Sara never stayed anywhere for long.

Since Dad’s death, we’d been living out of a suitcase. At the tender age of eight, a stupid hit-and-run driver had taken Dad’s life. And just like that, our lives had changed forever.

To this day, Dad’s case sat cold, collecting dust on a shelf somewhere along with other cold files. The police never found the driver. For ten years, the thought of Dad’s killer running amok grated against me worse than a spit-bath. I refused to let it go until the authorities caught the driver and thrown in jail.

 

***

As long as I lived, I’d never forget Sara’s harsh words.

“Mom, this isn’t fair!” I snapped. Apparently, Sara’s bi-polar must be relapsing. “I don’t want to move to Louisiana!”

“Tough! Get over it.” Her tone bulldozed me down with a heavy dose of asperity.

“What about my birthday party this evening? My friends, Laurie and Becky, went through a lot of trouble. You haven’t so much as bothered buying me a cake!”

“Don’t get an attitude with me, young lady!” She cut her eyes at me and then inhaled a calm breath, though keeping the ice on her tongue. She replied, “I’ll get you a cake. I’m sure there’s a Wal-Mart somewhere between here and where we’re going.” She returned to her packing as if she were preparing for some tropical vacation. Bright-colored swimwear spread across the bed, along with shoes and other various dress wear.

As I stared at the luggage, a scowl crept across my face. That tattered suitcase had passed through more towns than most people saw in a lifetime. My stomach writhed every time I laid eyes on it too. It represented everything I hated      starting over.

“That’s not exactly my idea of a birthday, Mom!” I blew out a frustrated breath. “What’s wrong with this town? I like Sweetwater. You have that great job at Fashion Boutique.