“Scarlett, we’re moving to Nevada.”

I stared blankly at my dad in shock but he kept his gaze at the TV. Couldn’t miss even one minute of the Dallas Cowboys versus the Vikings, could we, dad?

“What do you mean? Are you kidding right now?” I half-hoped it was a lame joke, but my dad never joked. The world had made his weary, jaded and without the ability to find humor in anything.

He turned to me and clicked off the TV. Holy hell. He’s serious, I thought.

“I got an opportunity in Reno…managing a shop for my cousin. He wants us out there by next month. I figured you could finish your year out there.”

Nevada? An even drier, more god-forsaken place than Texas? Really?

“Dad, we’re not moving to Nevada. That’s crazy. Who is this…cousin? Do you even know what you’re doing?” I stammered, trying to undo the decision that had obviously already been made without my input.

My dad rubbed his eyes. He was tired and worn through. He was a man hitting middle age with nothing to show for it, and I could sense this meant something to him.

“Scarlett, we need to get out of here. There’s nothing for us in Fairview.”

This utterly sucked. I was editor of the school paper. I was working on an internship for Texas Monthly, the state magazine. These were accomplishments I needed to highlight on my applications for college so I had some chance of getting a scholarship. Otherwise, there was zero chance I was going to school.

And school was my only way out of my trailer park existence.

My plans were deteriorating before my eyes and my dad was back to watching the football game like I wasn’t having a silent emotional meltdown.

I grabbed the remote control from the arm of his Lazy-Boy and clicked off the television.

“I’m not going!” I yelled.

My dad wasn’t too surprised by my reaction. He knew what I was working for. He knew I had my own plans. He rubbed his eyes and blinked purposefully as if to help them refocus from the TV screen to my tense figure hovering over him, and then he finally gave me his full attention.

“Dad, you know I have to finish school here. I can’t go with you. I have my whole life figured out here. I’m going to be a writer and that’s not going to happen in Nevada. I’ll have to…start from scratch at some other high school where no one knows me! I’ll have nothing on my transcript but…a job as a carny for Circus Circus.”

I could feel tears pushing their way up, but I held them at bay. The only time I allowed myself to cry was alone, where no one else could see me. I learned a long time ago that weeping in front of people translated to weakness, and I wasn’t going to look weak to anyone. I was Scarlett after all.

His long, frail frame struggled out of his chair and then he put his arms around me: An awkward and rare hug from my father. As much as I was skilled at pushing my feelings down, I had learned from the Master. This hug was very uncharacteristic of us both, but maybe he had known all along I wasn’t going with him. It felt like he was already saying goodbye.

“Scarlett, I don’t want to stand in your way, but you can’t stand in my way either,” he mumbled through my long, wavy blonde hair—a carbon-copy of what used to grow on his own balding head. Feeling sad that he could so easily leave me, I pressed my face into his chest trying imprint the infrequent moment of fatherly tenderness into my long-term memory. I closed my eyes, the cold metal of the small, gold cross he wore around his neck against my cheek. If there was one constant throughout my childhood, it was that cross. He never took it off.

“Dad, I want to stay in Fairview.” I never thought in all my years I would ever utter such a wish, but there was no other way for me. I knew from a young age I would have to claw my way to something better than a mobile home on a dirt road. I had a decent plan for the future and I wasn’t going to let it go without a fight.

My dad let me go and grabbed for his cigarettes in his shirt pocket. I cringed as he lit one between shaking fingers stained with motor oil, and took a long, deep drag as if the toxic smoke was life-giving oxygen. He always claimed that he couldn’t think without having a smoke. Truth be told, he couldn’t start the day, finish a meal or go to sleep without one either. I had stopped trying to get him to quit a long time ago.

“You’re too young to stay here alone. You’re only seventeen,” he reminded me, and then looked at me expectantly like I should easily solve the one problem standing between me and the rest of my life.

Thanks for your help, dad.

And that’s when I quickly hatched a plan. Annika’s brother was away at college and they had this big, empty house. Her parents loved me and I was always helpful around the kitchen. Hell, I could make Mrs. Bashir’s butter balti chicken even better than she could. (At least that’s what Mr. Bashir told me one night and then quickly swore me to secrecy.)

Maybe they would let me stay with them!