My mother and father just moved in to a small old rickety house. I don't know why. They were always talking about how wonderful my old house was. Nice and shiny with lots of new stuff and then one morning I went downstairs and there was lots of cardboard boxes and a truck. That's when I knew this was the end. Not the end of my life in the best house I've ever lived in, but all my friends I had to say goodbye to and now this old house. The girl in the next apartment went outside too see what was going on. She stared right at me.

When we got into the house it was so dark I couldn't even see the carpet under my feet.

"Ahhh. A new place too start a new life. Isn't this another milestone?" My mother asked me. I didn't respond. "Martha. You're twelve now. Stop being a baby. I thought you were interested in moving!" She said. I wasn't. This would be the worst day of my life. I stomped upstairs to check out my room. It was a mess! There was  termites and bugs everywhere I felt disgusted. I ran out to the backyard. I saw dad sitting on the muddy ground. "Dad? Do you like it here." I asked. "It's ok. Do you?" He asked. I thought for a minute. Then I realized I didn't have to think. I hate it here! "No. I want to go back home." I said. "This is home." He said. "No. This is not home! Home is where I had all my best friends! Home is where I get all my education! This is not home!" I yelled. Then I noticed I should not have yelled to my father. This wasn't his fault. I ran out of the house as I saw the truck leave. Then I knew there was no turning back in this situation.