Ten
Calista
Mommy and Daddy are talking in the corner with no smiles. No smiles means it’s something serious.
I ditch Grandma Dori and step closer.
“Why would you ever think…” Daddy says.
“I locked myself in the bathroom and…” Mommy’s shoulders rise and fall. I can’t hear her, so I lean toward them.
Then Daddy smiles. A big smile like when he comes home from work and we all run at him.
“Calista”—Dion grabs my sleeve—“Uncle Denver said we can play a game.”
I shrug him off and push him away.
Daddy hugs Mommy then places his hand on her belly.
I know what that means.
“No!” I stomp over to them.
“Calista, what’s wrong?” Mommy asks.
“No!” I repeat.
Daddy lowers down to my height. “Did something happen?”
“Why did you put your hand on Mommy’s belly?” I ask, my hands on my hips.
Da
