ELEVEN
I sat on the sofa with Shauna in my arms. I could see Jen and Sara bickering in the kitchen.
“Don’t you have school?” Jen muttered.
“It’s Sunday.” Sara flipped the page of a large textbook. “And I want to watch London kick your ass.”
Jen was visibly shaking. “Sara, you used to be my best friend.”
“Once.”
“So, I feel I have to tell you this, and you might actually believe me. I had a vision of my mother. She was in the kitchen congratulating me.”
“Congratulating you?” Sara snorted. “Congratulating you on becoming just like her—someone bossy, controlling, and hurtful?”
“Yes, actually. But I don’t want to become the horrible wife and mother she was.”
“Was?” Sara asked.
“There’s a message on my phone from my father. Mom passed away last night.” Jen pulled out her phone as if t
