Chapter Eight

Saturday mornings are meant for watching He-Man and She-Ra and eating a bowl of Captain Crunch cereal with my girl. But today is moving day—a very sad day. Mom stands by the door, looking around my room with my backpack in hand.

"It"s time to go, sweetheart." I take one more look around the room, reminiscing about all my happy memories. The baby blue wall next to the closet has pencil markings showing the differences in our height. Shorty and I would measure each other to see who grew faster. I won, of course. Then there"s the window where Shorty would sneak into my room at night and sleep on the bed with me. One night she didn"t have any bottoms on since she had wet her pants after her dad beat her with the metal buckle of his belt. So, I gave her my Superman PJs. She looked so cute in my clothes.

"You will see her again, my love," Mom says in a quiet, affectionate tone.

Mom loves Shorty like she is hers too. Mom knows something bad is happening to Shorty and her mom, but Shorty"s mom begged my mom not to say anything, or they would take Shorty away. I don't want her to go away, but I don't want her to get hurt anymore either.

"You promise, Mom?" I ask with tears in my eyes, holding them back from falling. "You promise I'll see her again? Because she needs me, Mom."

"Of course," she promises. "We'll see her on your birthday." She winks and holds her hand out for me to take, and I follow behind. The movers load the final boxes into the U-Haul as we walk outside.

"Ma'am. Everything is all set and ready to go," one of the movers says as he closes the latch.

"Thank you. We will be right behind you," Mom says with her hands on my shoulders. The men nod, get into the truck, and drive away. Mom leans down to my ear and whispers, "say goodbye to Shorty, love. We have to pick up your brother." Ash is my fraternal twin brother. He stayed over his friend's house last night. She turns me to face the little girl with wild curls falling in her face. Shorty is sitting on the porch with the walkie-talkie in her hand, staring out at the busy main road. When she hears my footsteps, her face is full of sadness with dried tears trailing down her cheeks. Tracks made by tears. My heart is so heavy I can"t breathe. I caused this pain. I made her cry.

"Hey, Shorty." I nudge her knees with mine as I sit down next to her. She"swearing my favorite color—a baby blue tank top, denim shorts, and blue flip-flops. She even painted her toenails blue.

She pulls her hair from her face. "Hi, Doni." This is yours. You can have it back." She puts the walkie talkie in my lap and looks away.

"Shorty, this is yours. I want you to keep it." I try giving it back to her, but she shakes her head. "I don't need it anymore. You'll be too far. It won't work." She's right, but I want her to keep something of mine.

"I want you to have it. I don't want you to forget about me. So please take it, Shorty." She looks up at me with a small smile, causing all kinds of warm feelings inside me, and takes the walkie talkie, holding it to her chest. "Ok. But I will never forget you, Doni," she says in a whisper.

"Sweetheart? It"s time to go." Mom struggles to speak. She knows how much this is going to hurt Shorty and me. But I understand why we have to move. Mom is getting married to a really nice man. I want her to be happy. She"s been so alone for too long. I just wish Shorty could experience it all with me.

Standing up, I hold my hand out. Shorty takes it and falls into my arms. A sob rises in her throat, and she clings to me with all her strength. I rub her back in slow strides. "I"m going to miss you so much, Shorty." Snugging my head in her hair, I take in the smell of fresh berries.

She pulls away and looks up at me with large sad eyes. "I"m going to miss you so much, Doni. Please don"t ever forget me, ok? Because I will never forget about you. You are my best person. No one is going to take your place."

"Me too, Shorty. No one will ever take your place in my heart." My voice cracks. "No one."

The front screen door opens, and I stiffen. I stand in front of Shorty in a protective stance. But it's just her mom. Claudia stands on the porch with both arms wrapped around her body. The bruise on her neck from last week has healed, but new marks are present. A dark blue bruise surrounds her left eye, and she has a busted lip and red handprints on her upper arms. As I scan Shorty from head totoe, a surge of panic takes over. My shoulders relax as I let out a massive sigh of relief when there are no new marks on her tiny body. Not any I can see, anyway.

"Dia," Mom calls out, "Here is my new phone number. Please keep in touch." She hands her a piece of paper with the number. Mom hugs Dia andthen Shorty. She holds Shorty a bit longer and kisses the top of her head. We walk toward the car when Shorty shouts, "I love you, Doni."

My eyes prickle with tears. Slightly turning my head to the side, my throat thickens, and I reply, "I love you too, Shorty. Always."

I can't look at her without falling apart in front of her. I think she knows that when the last word I hear from her sweet voice are, "Always."

And then I do the most challenging thing I've ever done—I walk away from my heart.

As soon as we start to pull away, I cover my ears to block out Shorty"s screams and heartbreaking cries begging me to come back.

"Come back, Doni! Please!" I can see her in the rearview mirror, her short legs trying to keep up as she runs after us. I can"t take any more heartache.

"Mom," I choke out, shutting my eyes, begging her to make the pain stop, but I know she can't save me from the grief I am drowning in. Because that"s precisely what it feels like.

"I know, baby." Mom sniffs.