Driving was torture. Mostly because I didn't get to say good-bye to all my friends, and partly because my sister and I had just had a fight back at the house, so the silence was stony and completely awkward.
After a few hours, we stopped to refill on gas and get a snack to eat at a small gas station in the middle of no where.
We went in, did everything we needed to do, then got out.
"Jenny, I know this is hard for you," my sister said wearily, "But you'll like it in Colorado. I promise you."
"And what if I don't?" I ask. "What if everyone there hates me?"
"No one could ever hate you, Jen."
Using my mom's nickname for me brought tears to my eyes and anger to my heart. Who did she think she was, trying to be my mother? No one could ever be my mother. Never.
But I counldn't say that out loud, so I turned towards my window, telling her that the conversation was over by my lack of agreement.
It would be a while until we got to Colorado.