Thirteen-year-old Amara Lewis came down the staircase smiling so hard that she nearly missed the last step.
Her gray travel sweats were new, her sneakers were clean, and the black rolling suitcase bouncing behind her was so full she had needed to sit on it that morning to close the zipper. A small neck pillow hung from the handle. Her headphones were already around her neck even though they were still two hours from the airport.
Outside the front windows of the Bennett house, January snow covered the lawns of their quiet Illinois suburb. A dark SUV waited in the driveway with its rear hatch open.
Amara could already imagine Colorado.
Real mountains.
Snow that did not turn gray beside the road after one day.
A hotel with fireplaces taller than she was.
The glass-roofed gondola Tyler had been talking about for three weeks.
Five days away from school.
Five days when, according to her mother, nobody would be answering work emails at dinner.
“Finally,” Amara said as she reached the foyer. “I thought we were leaving at ten.”
Grant Bennett stood near the front door.
He was forty-eight, tall and broad-shouldered, wearing a pale blue sweater and dark jeans. His arms were folded across his chest.
He did not smile.
Amara slowed.
“What?”
Grant looked toward her suitcase.
“You packed everything?”
She smiled again.
“Basically my entire room.”
Nothing.
The smile faded.
“Grant?”
Behind him, a beige winter coat hung from the wall rack beside two ski jackets. Amara could see the driveway through the narrow window in the door.
The SUV was already running.
“You need to take that back upstairs,” Grant said.
Amara frowned.
“My suitcase?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Grant unfolded his arms.
“There’s been a change.”
Three words.
Adults loved saying there had been a change when they had already made a decision and wanted the person affected to react politely.
Amara stared at him.
“What change?”
Her mother, Nicole Lewis-Bennett, appeared from the dining room.
Nicole was forty-four, elegant even on travel days, with straight black hair falling just below her shoulders and a long tan cardigan over a dark top. She stopped when she saw Amara standing beside the suitcase.
Her face tightened.
That frightened Amara more than Grant’s voice.
“Mom?”
Nicole glanced toward Grant.
Then toward her daughter.
“Baby.”
“No.”
Amara shook her head before Nicole had said anything else.
“Don't ‘baby’ me. What happened?”
Nicole took a breath.
“You're going to stay with Grandma Evelyn until Tuesday.”
Amara stared.
“What?”
“Grandma said you can come over.”
“For what?”
Nicole’s eyes filled slightly.
“While we’re gone.”
The foyer became completely silent.
Amara looked at the luggage by the wall.
Then at the SUV.
Then back at her mother.
“You're still going?”
Grant answered.
“Yes.”
“Without me?”
Nicole stepped closer.
“Amara—”
“No.”
Amara pulled the suitcase upright.
“I’m already packed.”
“I know.”
“You told me to pack last night.”
“I know.”
“You bought me gloves.”
“Yes.”
“You made me download movies because you said the flight had bad Wi-Fi.”
Nicole closed her eyes.
“I know.”
Amara’s voice rose.
“Then what are you talking about?”
Grant stepped forward.
“Lower your voice.”
She looked at him.
Her eyes widened with disbelief.
“I'm not yelling.”
“You're getting there.”
“Because you're telling me I can't go on a trip I'm packed for!”
Nicole raised one hand.
“Please.”
Amara turned toward her.
“Why?”
Nicole looked miserable.
Grant answered instead.
“Tyler has had a difficult year.”
Amara blinked.
“What does Tyler have to do with me going?”
“This isn't about you doing something wrong.”
“Then why am I staying home?”
Grant rubbed his jaw.
“This trip needs to be a little different.”
“How?”
He hesitated.
That hesitation told Amara there was an answer he knew would sound bad aloud.
She waited.
Grant finally said:
“Tyler needs time where he doesn't feel like he's joining somebody else's family.”
Amara stared.
“I don't understand.”
Nicole whispered:
“Amara.”
“No.”
She looked between them.
“What does that mean?”