“Are you really leaving?” Elena asks, standing in the doorway with her hands on her hips like she could actually stop me.
I laugh. “Not immediately.”
“Why do you have to go so far?” She’s got that whiny tone in her voice, the one that always gets Dad and Noah to cave. But it’s not going to work on me.
“It’s just in New Orleans. A single flight away,” I tell her.
I’m in my room, packing for my early morning flight tomorrow out of this place I once thought I’d live my whole life in, maybe even die here. But now, I know I have to leave.
“I don’t understand,” she says. “Why did you suddenly want to follow some teaching program all the way in New Orleans?”
I’m a teacher. I want to further my studies. It’s not that hard to understand. But this isn’t about me, it’s about Elena and the fact
