My Sister Got Two Pink Princess Rooms. I Got A Trash Bag Chapter 02
Both my parents wanted Claire for the first weekend in their new house.
Neither one would change the date.
So two housewarmings landed on the same day. Neither side backing down.
Neither house asked me to stay.
But both of them asked me to come early and help.
My enrollment stuff was scattered between the two places—birth certificate in a box in Dad’s attic, immunization records in a drawer at Mom’s.
I needed them for school.
So I said yes.
Eight in the morning. I got to Dad’s first.
He handed me a rag. Clean William’s new study.
That room used to be mine.
There were still pencil marks on the corner wall from when I was little—lines measuring how tall I’d grown.
Next to the tallest one, in red pen, William had written: [Nora will keep growing.]
He was thirteen back then.
Dad handed me a wet rag.
“Guests get here at ten-thirty. Wipe it down. Don’t want it looking like someone else used to live here.”
I took the rag and scrubbed. Inch by inch.
The marks faded. Smudged. Gone.
That was the last trace of me in Dad’s house.
And I was the one who erased it.
By noon, I was at Mom’s.
Chopping vegetables. Setting plates. Pouring drinks. Clearing empty glasses.
Worked through the whole party and didn’t get one full meal.
Claire didn’t lift a finger.
Dad said she needed rest—still adjusting to her new room.
Mom said she had to change for the party in Boston later. Couldn’t wear herself out.
William was busy adjusting the lights in her room at Dad’s.
Logan drove her from one party to the next, like she was some kind of princess on a royal tour.
When the family photos started at Dad’s, a relative pulled me into the frame, off to the side.
Dad stopped me.
“This is for people who live here. You’re off to college soon. Doesn’t make sense for you to be in it.”
He handed me his phone. “You take it.”
The frame had Dad, my stepmom, William, and Claire.
Everyone but me.
At Mom’s place, I didn’t step forward this time.
But Mom still handed me her phone. “You’ve got a steady hand. Take one for us.”
I didn’t take it. “Am I not part of this family?”
Mom frowned, right there in front of everyone. “You don’t live here. Don’t make this awkward.”
So the second photo had Mom, my stepdad, and Claire.
Again, not me.
Logan took the phone to check.
I thought he’d at least notice—both photos were missing someone.
But he just zoomed in on Claire’s face. “Her eyes are closed in this one. Retake?”
Claire posted both photos on Instagram. Caption:
[Two new houses, double the happiness.]
Likes and hearts flooded in.
Logan commented:
[Both families are complete. Nobody missing.]
After the parties, Dad asked me to stay and wash the dishes.
Mom called, telling me to come over and clean up the cups and bottles.
They both said the same thing: “No matter where you’re staying, you’re still our daughter.”
When the photos were taken, I wasn’t family.
When there was mess to clean up, I was suddenly a daughter again.
Late that night, Logan drove me back to my grandparents’ old house in Long Island.
He saw the boxes by the storage closet and it seemed to finally hit him—I was leaving for college soon.
He grabbed a marker from the trunk and scribbled a checklist on the wall.
Mattress cover. Pillows. Star light parts. Picture frames.
“Claire’s stuff—I’ll pack it all myself. Not one thing left behind.”
That same night, I sent my early admission decision to both family group chats.
[I got into UT Austin. Move-in is September 3rd.]
Nothing. Both groups were online. Nobody replied.
A few minutes later, Dad posted a photo of Claire’s new room—star lights glowing on the ceiling.
Mom asked if her new mattress was soft enough.
William said the second closet in Manhattan needed an adjustment.
Logan reminded Claire to switch back to her usual pillowcase.
My message got buried so fast you’d miss it if you blinked.