I could smell the turkey cooking, even in the attic where I was hiding out.I heard a laugh, too, and a bang from something being dropped.Our house was noisier since my new stepsister and stepmother moved in—Jen and Mom.
I called her Mom, but the word felt uncomfortable, like a pair of shoes that pinched (夹脚).I didn't remember my own mother, and she had died in an accident when I was a baby.It had always been just Dad and me.We were a team.Now, so much had changed, and sometimes I wished I had the magic to change it back.
I heard Dad's footsteps upstairs.“Do you want to take Jen skating？” he asked.
“I guess.” I sighed, thinking about how Dad and I usually spent Thanksgiving Day building a big snowman.But this year, Dad was too busy helping Mom cook the turkey.
“Thanks，” Dad said and put his arm around my shoulders.“We'll make that snowman later，” he promised.
“Yeah，” I agreed, not too sure we'd have time.
Mom handed us some homemade cookies with smiling faces as we grabbed our skates.I had to admit, Mom came up with good ideas sometimes.Even though I liked that, I still couldn't help but feel as if she were changing everything.
“No, thanks.I'm not hungry，” I said, although I was, a little.
“Ready？” I asked Jen.She nodded, and we headed out the front door.
