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“Aren’t they great? I don’t have to do much. They’re watered by the sky.”

“The sky is good at that,” I said, then sucked in my lips, wondering if Zoey would think that was an insult, considering the story I’d told her about Mom letting the farmers’ market seeds diefrom lack of water.

Zoey didn’t seem to be following the conversation at all. She was still taking in the bus. “Is this where we’re staying, Mom?”

“This is my house, so yes! You’ll love it. It’s bigger than it looks.”

“It’ll be fine,” I said, and actually meant it. I collected my suitcase. “It’s only a few nights.”

Zoey dragged her suitcase out of the trunk and it thumped heavily to the ground.

“Or were you planning to stay for months?” I joked. “What did you pack?”

She didn’t laugh. Okay, she was in a bad mood. Noted. We did just drive five hours only to arrive at Tiny House Village.

We walked up the steps to the porch. Mom opened her arms for Zoey, who stepped into them and gave her a big hug. When it was my turn, I shifted sideways, giving her a side hug. It was more than I had thought I’d offer and definitely the most I could at the moment.

The part of the bus that normally had a folding bus door had an actual house door and our mom opened it and welcomed us inside. It was long and narrow, like a…bus. A living room was at the front, followed by a kitchen. There was a closed door at the back that I assumed was the bedroom. A shelf ran around the entire interior above the windows, and on that shelf were rocks and crystals of all different shapes and sizes.

“We should’ve brought backpacks,” I said, noting that our suitcases were too big for the space.

“Where are we sleeping?” Zoey asked.

“Those two couches fold down into beds.”

I hefted my suitcase onto one. “Dibs,” I said, just to be funny. I really didn’t care which couch I slept on.

“We didn’t bring bedding,” Zoey said. “Do you have any?”

“Oh yes, I have a lot on my bed. I’ll gather it later.”

I could tell Zoey was having some sort of mental struggle that I wasn’t. Not that she’d actually say that out loud to our mom. Maybe I’d come into this with fewer expectations than she had. I wanted to reach out and pat her arm or tell her she’d be okay, but I didn’t want to make it worse.

“I thought we could go pick some veggies from the community garden and make dinner together. And then tomorrow, I wanted to take you to the lake. I have a kayak,” Mom said.

“Wren won’t swim in the lake,” Zoey said.

“I’ll swim in the lake,” I said. “It’s the ocean I have issues with.”

“You have issues with the ocean?” she asked. “Why?”

I looked at her. I wanted to yell,Because you almost let me drown there, Mom.But I had promised my sister I’d play nice and so far I was killing it…mostly. “Sharks, for one,” I said. “Jellyfish, whales, octopuses, eels, urchins, fire coral…oh, and sea lions.”

Mom was silent for a moment, then burst out laughing.

After a full day at the lake the next day and stopping at a few shops in town, where I got Asher a fun gift, I sat on the couch trying to think of the perfect way to word the Instagram post Asher and I had talked about a few days ago. Zoey and Mom were in the garden with several other community members. I had bypassed that immediately.

So far the trip had been better than I expected. I mean, our mom was still our mom—spontaneous, loud-laughing, oblivious to things outside herself—but she also seemed to be trying and I was glad for that. My sister’s mood had improved after the initial shock on our arrival.

I squinted at my phone.

“Will Bean like you? Are you cool enough for Bean?”

Help!I texted Asher.

Mom issues?

Oh no, those are standard, and actually, things are going well. I’mtrying to think of an Instagram post for the shelter. Will Bean love you or hate you?