I looked at my mother. I looked at Karen. I looked at the peeling wallpaper and the stained carpet.
“Your house?” I whispered. “Yes, my house!” Linda screamed. “My rules!
If you don’t like it, take your vegetable and get out!”
I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone. My mother sneered. “Who are you going to call?
The police? Go ahead. It’s your word against three of us.
Let’s see who they believe.”
I shook my head, my eyes dead and hollow. I tapped a speed-dial entry labeled Asset Protection. “No, Mother.
I’m not calling the police to report a domestic dispute.”
I put the phone to my ear. “I’m calling the Trash Removal Squad.”
Chapter 4: The Trash Removal Call
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