Last week was when we got the news that we are moving to Ohio.

It was at the dinner table in our old house in Los Angeles.

We went from, Los Angeles, to Ohio. I'd call that a downgrade.

We were eating pasta and garlic bread. 

These are the members of my family: My mom (Jessica), my dad (Andy), and my brother (Jake).

But who cares about them? Let's move on.

I remember asking Jake to pass me the parmesan cheese when my mom goes; "Andy? Didn't you have some big news you wanted to introduce to the family"?

My dad looks up and holds a finger in front of his face as he finishes chewing his noodles, and I sprinkle out some cheese onto my own pasta.

He clears his throat as I take a bite of my pasta, and slurp the ends into my mouth which provokes my mom to give me a sharp look, because we have a "no slurping" rule when eating a meal as a family.

I make a face at her when she looks away and swallow my bite of pasta.

My dad looks at my mom, and straightens his black-rimmed glasses, as he says; "So, kids, your mom and I have some big news," and he swallows once before reaching out to hold my mom's hand.

I pick up my glass of water and raise it to my mouth at the same time Jake rips off a chunk of his bread and shoves it into his mouth.

"We are moving in a week to Ohio".

I spit out my water and Jake chokes on his bread simultaneously.

I quickly recover but am at a loss for words, and Jake is coughing so violently that my mom has to get up and whack him on the back several times before he can breathe again.

"We're- what!?" I yell.

"What- *HACK* she said," Jake wheezes.

"We are moving to Ohio in one week," my dad repeats as if this is a completely normal subject to bring up out of the blue.

"But why? How long have you guys been planning this?" I ask them, my voice is getting very hard to control.

"About five months," says my mom.

"FIVE MONTHS!?" I exclaim in disbelief.

"Yes," says my mom, blinking.

"Is there a problem here?" my dad asks.

"Yes!" me and Jake say at the same time.

"What's the problem?" my mom asks.

"Well let's see, you have been planning this move for five months, and are only bringing this up now, specifically one week away from when we move. Don't you think we would have wanted a heads up? Or to hear our opinions"?

"Yeah," Jake says, still struggling to breathe normally.

"Well, no I guess we didn't think of that," my dad says, his voice trailing off, adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose.

I slam my palms down on the wood of the table, making the dishes and glasses rattle from the sudden violent action, and I yell; "What is wrong with the two of you!? What kind of parents are you to not think of your own children in this situation"?

"Young lady! Where are your manners?" my dad's voice rises with mine.

"Oh, I am far past manners at this point! Right now, I am furious with the two of you, and don't wish to speak to either of you for the rest of the night"!

I shove back from the table, toppling my chair over, and spin on my heel as I make my way to the stairwell.

"Where do you think you're going!?" my dad's voice follows me through the house.

"Away from YOU!" I yell.

"We will be talking about this later"!

"Kiss my ass!" I scream and I storm upstairs, slamming my door so hard that my Tate McRae poster falls off the wall.

Her face stares up at mine and I mutter; "What are you looking at"?

She doesn't respond.

Sighing, I turn her face over so the blank side of the paper is facing the ceiling.

I throw myself onto my bed and it cringes beneath me, groaning with the effort to hold up my 135 pounds.

My dads voice continues to rage from downstairs.