‘It’ll be like a holiday!’ my mum says, beaming at us with her head vein throbbing.
‘Fairyland Caravan Park?’ My sister, Taylor, looks across the table with such disgust that I almost feel sorry for Mum.
‘It’s the termites!’ Mum says, although we know it’s got nothing to do with termites. Having to sell our home has everything to do with Dad getting laid off and developing a strong attachment to the pokies down at the pub.
Which is why Mum’s telling us the bad news and Dad’s outside hiding somewhere. If he’d been in here, I’m pretty sure Taylor would’ve reached across the kitchen table and ripped out his eyeballs.
‘I’m not going,’ Taylor says. I’ve never met anyone else like Taylor. She’s short, like Dad, and wears her powdery-blonde hair very short. Although she’s got this very sweet, gentle voice, she’s extremely brutal. I spend most of my life walking into things and falling over, and yet Taylor’s still responsible for more of the scars and marks on my body than I am.
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