Keeping It Fluid -54

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When we got home, Sam immediately ripped off his shirt the second we stepped through the door.

"Ughhh, finally," he groaned, flinging the thing onto the couch like it had personally betrayed him. "Why do dress shirts feel like sandpaper dipped in regret?"

"Because you refuse to wear the undershirt Mom gave you," I said, stepping around him with the McFlurry still in hand.

He flopped down dramatically, shirtless and over it. "Undershirts are a scam."

"I hope the realtor saw your dramatic little fit," I added. "She'll probably write it in the report: 'Nice family, one child allergic to buttons.'"

Lily walked in behind us, still pouting. "I still think they should've given me a toy. I don't care if it wasn't a Happy Meal. That was unhappy."

Mom shot her a look. "You had ice cream, fries, and three bites of Emily's burger when she wasn't looking."

I nearly choked on my fries. "Hey!"

Dad came in last, locking the door behind us and exhaling like the day had finally caught up with him. "Alright, team," he said, clapping his hands once. "Everyone get comfy. No more tours, no more realtors, no more itchy shirts—Sam."

"I'm free now," Sam said.

Uncle David came downstairs.

He wasn't smiling.

He didn't say anything right away, just walked into the living room with that cop face on—the one where his eyes were doing a thousand things at once, like he was mentally assembling a crime scene while also judging our choice of fast food.

Dad noticed first. "Everything alright?"

Uncle David glanced toward us kids, then back at Mom and Dad. "Can we talk for a sec? Privately?"

That word—privately—hit like a cold breeze.

I sat up straighter, suddenly hyper-aware of how comfortable I'd just let myself get. My McFlurry didn't even taste good anymore.

Mom gave me a look. "Emily, go help Lily get ready for bed."

"I'm not even tired," Lily whined from the floor, where she was still trying to convince someone—anyone—that she'd been wronged by the McDonald's Corporation.

"Doesn't matter," Mom said gently but firmly. "You can read or draw. Just give us a minute."

Uncle David's eyes flicked toward me for the briefest second, and even though he didn't say anything... I knew.

This wasn't about real estate.

I didn't go to my room.

Not really.

I led Lily upstairs and got her set up with markers and her princess coloring book, but the second I heard the soft murmur of voices downstairs, I slipped back out into the hallway.

My heart was already racing.

I crept to the top of the stairs and sat down on the second step from the bottom—the one that didn't creak. I leaned forward, just enough to hear.

Uncle David was talking low. Too low. I couldn't catch every word, but I heard things like "timing matches," and "still digging into the metadata," and the worst phrase of all:

"It's not over."

I swallowed hard.

Dad said something next, quieter. I leaned in a little more, trying not to breathe too loud.

Then—

"Emily."

I jumped so hard I almost slipped off the step.

Mom was standing behind me, arms crossed, eyebrow raised in full I'm Not Mad, I'm Disappointed But Also Definitely Mad mode.

"Were you spying?" she asked.

I opened my mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. "I was... checking the structural integrity of the stairwell."

She didn't laugh.

"Bedroom," she said firmly. "Now. We'll talk after."

I wanted to argue. I wanted to know. But her voice had that edge to it, the one that made arguing a waste of energy.

So I stood up, cheeks burning, and trudged down the hall like I wasn't dying to know exactly what they were hiding.

I closed my bedroom door behind me and stood there for a moment, listening to the low hum of voices downstairs—just barely out of reach.

I hated that.

The not knowing.

The way grown-ups always decided when you were ready to hear something—like danger waited politely until you were emotionally prepared.

I set the McFlurry on my nightstand, barely touched. It had gone from perfect to soup in under ten minutes—like everything else lately.

I grabbed the book from my nightstand. Matilda. Again.

I'd read it at least five times already, but something about it felt safe. Familiar. Like curling up in a blanket made of pages and pretending the real world wasn't trying to unravel everything.

I got through maybe three pages before I heard the soft knock.

Mom stepped into the room, gently closing the door behind her.

She looked tired. Not the kind of tired you get from work or chores—but the kind that settles in your shoulders when you've heard something you didn't want to hear.

She sat at the edge of my bed.

"You okay?" she asked softly.

I nodded, then shook my head. "Not really."

She gave a little smile, but it didn't quite reach her eyes.

I hesitated, then asked the question that had been building in my chest like steam in a kettle.

"What were you talking about? With Uncle David?"

Her expression didn't change. But her pause said everything.

"It's nothing you need to worry about," she said.

I looked down at my book. "So... it was something."

"Emily."

"I just want to know what's going on," I said quietly. "Everyone keeps saying they're protecting me, but it doesn't feel like protection. It feels like I'm just sitting in the dark waiting for the next thing to happen."

She reached out and tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. "We're handling it, sweetheart. You just need to focus on being a kid right now."

I didn't say anything. Mostly because I didn't feel like a kid anymore.

Not after everything.

The next morning, the smell of bacon and cinnamon drifted upstairs and pulled me out of sleep like a rope. I blinked at the ceiling for a moment, half-hoping everything that happened yesterday was just a really detailed nightmare.

But nope. Still real.

I dragged myself out of bed and padded down the hallway, the wood floor cool under my feet. Sam was already at the table, shoveling eggs into his mouth like they were trying to escape. Lily was humming to herself and dipping her toast in syrup like it was a science experiment.

Mom was at the stove, flipping pancakes with one hand and pouring orange juice with the other like it was some kind of Olympic event.

"Morning, sweetheart," she said as I slid into my seat.

"Morning," I mumbled, still groggy.

She set a plate down in front of me—pancakes, eggs, bacon, and even a little strawberry arranged like a heart.

Comfort food. Classic move.

I stared at the plate for a second, then glanced up at her. "So... are you going to tell me what Uncle David said last night?"

She didn't turn around right away. Just kept flipping the next pancake.

"I told you—it's nothing you need to worry about," she said finally.

I stabbed my pancake harder than necessary. "You keep saying that, but that's not the same as nothing happening."

She sighed and turned off the burner. "Emily."

"Was it about the person who threw the brick? Do they know who it was?"

Her silence was loud.

"Is it someone we know?"

"Eat your breakfast," she said, placing the last pancake on Sam's plate.

"Mom—"

"I mean it."

I looked at her, and for a second, I thought maybe she was about to give in. Maybe I'd finally get a real answer.

But she just offered me a soft smile and brushed a hand across my shoulder.

"You'll know when it's time to know."

And that was that.

The smell of syrup and bacon didn't smell so good anymore.

After breakfast, the table slowly emptied. Mom disappeared into the laundry room. Dad was already on a work call in the den, using his serious voice. The kind that made everyone else tiptoe around.

Lily flopped onto the living room rug, belly full, arms stretched out like a starfish. "Ughhhh. I ate too much."

"You always eat too much," Sam said, tossing himself onto the couch with a groan of his own. "It's your personality now."

"It's not," she whined. "I just love pancakes."

"You love drama," I muttered, still poking at the last of my breakfast with my fork as I walked into the room. I wasn't hungry anymore, but I also wasn't ready to be alone in my room thinking about everything again.

I sat cross-legged on the rug next to Lily, who rolled over dramatically and laid her head on my leg like I was a human pillow.

"Are we really moving?" she asked, her voice muffled.

I looked at her for a second. "I think so."

She didn't say anything. Just started messing with the tassels on the edge of the rug.

Sam sat up straighter. "It's not bad, though. That park was cool. And I liked the trail."

"Yet," I muttered.

He made a face. "You really know how to ruin an optimistic vibe."

I shrugged. "Just being realistic."

For a while, we didn't say anything. The house was quiet again.

Then Lily looked up at me with big eyes. "Do we have to pack everything? Like, everything everything?"

I reached down and brushed her hair out of her face. "Not yet. Maybe not for a while. It depends on the court stuff."

Sam leaned back on the couch, arms behind his head. "When we do move, I'm calling dibs on the room with the biggest window."

"You'll get what you get," I said.

"And I'll throw a fit," he replied with a smirk.

I rolled my eyes. But deep down... I was grateful.

For the pancakes.
For this weird moment of peace.
For my loud, ridiculous siblings.

Because whatever was coming... I wasn't going through it alone.

Just as Lily started fiddling with the remote—not to watch TV, just pressing buttons like she thought it might unlock a secret door—Dad walked back into the room.

His expression wasn't big or dramatic. No announcement pose. No excited shout.

Just a small, tired smile as he leaned against the doorway and said:

"We got the place."

Everything froze for a second.

Sam sat up. "Wait—what?"

Dad nodded. "They accepted our application. The paperwork's in. Assuming nothing crazy happens, we can start moving in a week or so. Karen just sent the confirmation."

Lily gasped and clapped her hands. "Yessss! I get the twisty slide!"

"That's not our slide, Lily," I said.

"It is in my heart," she replied seriously.

Sam was grinning now, full of energy like someone had flipped a switch. "Do we get to see it again before we move? Can we go look at the new one—the real house, not the model?"

"We'll do a walk-through Monday," Dad said. "Final inspection."

Then he looked at me.

Not like he was waiting for permission—but like he cared whether or not this news landed the right way.

"You okay with this, kiddo?"

I didn't answer right away. I wasn't sure how to sum up the feeling inside me. Like something was ending... but maybe something better was finally beginning.

So I just nodded.

"Yeah," I said. "I think I am."

Later that afternoon, I was in my room, sitting cross-legged on the floor with an empty box in front of me.

Dad had told us to start packing a little—just the stuff we didn't use every day. "Nothing major yet," he'd said. "Just enough to get a head start."

I looked around.

There wasn't much to pack.

I'd only been here a few months. My books fit neatly on one small shelf. My clothes barely filled the dresser. I had a few drawings taped to the walls, some old notebooks, a few stuffed animals that I wasn't quite ready to give up—even if I pretended I didn't care.

And on the wall above my bed, tacked with four carefully placed pushpins, was my gender fluid flag.

I glanced toward the hallway, where Lily's room looked like a toy store exploded. She had bins of stuffed animals, glittery art supplies, random tiaras, and three different backpacks for reasons no one fully understood. Her room screamed I live here.

Mine whispered it.

I reached for the flag and held the edge for a second, fingers brushing over the fabric.

I didn't want to take it down yet.

Not until we were ready to move.

Sitting on my bed, I reached for my phone and flopped onto the bed, staring at the screen for a moment before opening our group chat.

Me:

You guys free?

Jasmine:

Always.

Mia:

What's up?

I hit the call button, and a few seconds later their faces popped up—Jasmine lying on her bed with a snack bag half-open beside her, and Mia curled in her beanbag chair with her cat slowly blinking in the background like she was judging all of us.

"Hey!" they said together.

"Hey," I said, and I must've looked off, because Jasmine immediately raised an eyebrow.

"You're doing the face," she said.

"What face?"

"The Something Big Is About To Drop face," Mia added. "Spill it."

I sat up, nervous energy buzzing through my fingers. "Okay, so... I have news."

Jasmine narrowed her eyes. "Wait. Is it the baby?"

"No, no—the baby's fine. Craving pickles and chocolate, but fine."

"Then what?" Mia asked, leaning closer.

I hesitated for just a second.

"I... okay, so... my parents made a decision," I said. "We're moving."

Dead silence.

Mia blinked. "Wait, what?"

"Moving?" Jasmine echoed. "Like, moving-moving?"

I nodded. "Yeah. Just a few miles across town. To Evergreen."

"You're kidding," Jasmine said, sitting up like she couldn't believe what she just heard. "Since when?!"

"They only started talking about it a few days ago. After the brick thing, I guess it pushed them over the edge."

Mia opened her mouth, closed it, then finally said, "Are you serious?"

"Yeah. It's a neighborhood with security and cameras and everything. We took a tour yesterday and... today, they told us we got the house."

There was a long pause.

Not mad. Not even sad.

Just quiet.

Mia spoke first. "I mean... I'm glad you'll be safer. But this feels really fast."

"I know," I said. "It is fast. I didn't think it would happen either."

Jasmine sighed. "You're still going to Southview, right?"

"Yeah. Same school. Mom's still driving me."

"Okay," she said, slumping back. "Then I guess we won't have to stage a kidnapping."

Mia gave a little laugh. "You better still come over."

"I will."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

We talked a bit longer after that. Nothing deep—just random stuff. Mia's cat knocking over a water bottle. Jasmine daring me to prank Sam before the move. Plans for another sleepover.

And when the call finally ended, the screen faded to black and left me staring at my own reflection.