My Sister Got Two Pink Princess Rooms. I Got A Trash Bag Chapter 04
The next morning at 6:50, my mom pulled up in front of the old house on Long Island.
I threw my passport, my acceptance letter, and whatever clean clothes I had into my bag and got in the passenger seat.
She knew my flight was at 8:20.
She knew I had to check in by 5 PM.
We weren’t even on the road ten minutes when Claire called.
It was her first day at the new school.
Dad, William, and Logan were all there with her.
But she was standing at the school gate, refusing to get out of the car, crying so hard she could barely breathe.
“Everyone else’s mom is here. Where’s mine?”
“Mom—are you picking Nora over me?”
Dad called right after. Told Mom to just show up.
“Five minutes. Take a picture. That’s it.”
William said Claire was crying so hard she was about to throw up. She couldn’t walk into class like that on her first day.
Logan got on the phone too. “I’ll take Nora to the airport later. We’ve got time.”
Up ahead, the highway split. Left to JFK. Right to Claire’s private school in Manhattan.
Mom slowed down. Flicked her turn signal. Pulled onto the shoulder.
“Get out and wait for me. The ceremony’s only half an hour. I’ll take Claire’s picture and come right back.”
I reminded her: “They’re all there with Claire. Three people. I only have you.”
Mom didn’t answer.
She reached over me and opened my door.
“Claire needs her mom right now. Just wait. Don’t make her cry on her first day because of you.”
I got out with my bag. Standing on the side of the highway, cars flying past me.
Mom turned the wheel and drove toward Manhattan.
7:20. She wasn’t back.
I called to remind her—if we didn’t leave soon, I’d miss check-in.
The line was loud. I could hear the principal’s microphone echoing and parents clapping in the background.
“Claire finally got out of the car,” Mom said. “Just give me ten more minutes.”
Dad’s voice came through from somewhere behind her: “Flights can be rescheduled. Not a big deal.”
William said they were taking the family photo now. “Just be patient. Almost done.”
Logan said he’d come get me after helping Claire carry her art stuff inside. “Soon. Twenty minutes.”
7:40. Still nobody.
I called Mom again. Told her the next flight to Austin didn’t leave until 2:30. I’d land too late for the 5 PM check-in.
Her voice finally changed—but it wasn’t worry. It was annoyance.
“It’s just a local college. What’s one day? I’ll take you as soon as Claire’s ceremony is over.”
I gripped the phone so hard my knuckles went white.
“My school isn’t local. It’s in Texas.”
“If I miss check-in today, I lose my early admission.”
“I already withdrew my regular applications. There’s nowhere else for me to go this year.”
Silence on the other end for a few seconds.
Then Mom just said: “Then take a gap year. You’re smart—you’ll get in again. But Claire only gets one first day of school. She won’t get that back.”
She hung up.
I opened my phone.
The airline app said my 8:20 flight was already closed for check-in.
Mom knew exactly what I was losing.
She just didn’t care.
She didn’t care if I had to wait an entire year—just so Claire could have a complete family photo on her first day.
The family group chats lit up with pictures.
Dad holding Claire’s backpack.
Mom standing on her right, hand on her shoulder.
William and Logan on either side.
Claire in her brand-new plaid uniform, eyes still a little red, but smiling like she owned the world.
Five of them. Under that big oak tree in front of the school. First-day-of-school family portrait.
Nobody remembered me anymore.
That night, Mom went back to the house on Long Island.
I wasn’t there.
She typed into both family group chats:
[Nora?]
Dad replied instantly: [Didn’t you take her to the airport?]
William thought I’d gone back to boarding school to prep for a repeat year after missing my flight.
Logan said he assumed someone else had taken me.
They scrolled back through the chat history—from 8 AM all the way to 10 PM.
That’s when they realized: from morning till night, not one person had asked where I was.
Not a single message directed at me.
Mom called six times in a row. All went to voicemail.
She started to panic.
She reached out to my boarding school counselor and asked if my early admission was already gone.
The counselor called her back. I heard about it later. Apparently her voice was calm.
“Nora completed her check-in at UT Austin this afternoon. She’s in her dorm now.”
Long silence on the other end of that call.
Mom’s voice finally cracked. “Texas? Two thousand miles away? How did she get all the way out there by herself?”
She grabbed her phone, ready to call me.
But two system notifications popped up first—gray text at the top of both family group chats.
[Nora Hayes has left ‘Dad’s Family.’]
[Nora Hayes has left ‘Mom’s Family.’]