Chapter 3: Sides Are Chosen

I figured Grandma would settle in, maybe grumble a bit, but eventually get used to our way of doing things. I couldn’t have been more wrong.

She’d just hum to herself, chopping onions in the kitchen.

Dad would just nod along, pretending to listen. But he’d never actually do anything Grandma suggested.

If Mason managed to keep his sarcasm to a minimum, it was a win for everyone.

I was the only one she really singled out, probably because I was the easiest target—quiet, polite, and always trying to keep the peace.

Back then, Grandma nitpicked everything I did. But she never said anything in front of Mom or Dad.

She’d corner me in the hallway or catch me in the laundry room. "You’re too soft, Addie. Back then, girls your age were already running the farm. No time for daydreaming."

I’d wake up sweating, the sound of phantom mooing in my ears.

He’d poke his head into my room, frowning. "You look like you haven’t slept in a week. What’s up?"

I whispered the whole story, voice trembling, afraid Grandma would overhear.

He threw a sheet over his head, howling like a banshee, and when Grandma shrieked and tumbled out of bed, he bolted back to his room. The next morning, her arm was in a sling, and the whole house was in chaos.

He looked proud, like he’d just won a medal. "Told you I’d protect you."

He crossed his arms, trying to look stern. "Seriously, Addie, you gotta speak up. You’re hopeless."

He grinned, waiting for me to protest.

She was in full mom-mode, voice echoing down the hall. "You little punk! First you scare Grandma half to death, now you’re trying to boss your sister around?"

She didn’t hold back, letting him have it with both barrels.

She always had a way with words, and this time was no different. Mason just stared at her, half amused, half terrified.

You could hear the whacks from two rooms away. But Mason just shrugged, insisting he was fine.

Dad tried to look stern, but you could tell his heart wasn’t in it.

He caught my eye and mouthed, "It’s okay, don’t worry."

I nodded through tears, but couldn’t hold it in and ran out to tell Mom and Dad everything.

I burst into the living room, words tumbling out in a rush.

They were surprised, but after hearing me out, didn’t say much.

He knelt down, voice gentle.

He squeezed my shoulder, making sure I was really listening.

She ruffled my hair, her words gruff but full of love.

She’d stomp around the kitchen, muttering about old-fashioned nonsense.

I tried to smile, even though my chest still felt tight.

She started watching me more closely, checking in after school, making sure I was okay.

Mom set Grandma up with a brand-new phone, loaded with apps.

Mom had a wicked sense of humor—she’d forward every viral video she could find about rude old ladies getting their comeuppance.

Every day, she’d watch those clips with a sour face, but she never said a word about it.

Mom said it one night while washing my hair, her voice soft but firm.

She squeezed my shoulders, rinsing out the shampoo.

She winked, making me giggle even through my sniffles.

It was like someone flipped a switch—she kept her distance, barely speaking to me unless she had to.

She’d avoid my gaze, mutter under her breath when I walked by, and never missed a chance to complain about me to anyone who’d listen.

I paused on the sidewalk, hearing my name float through the open window.

It felt like a betrayal, hearing her judge me for things I couldn’t control.

I took a deep breath, remembering their advice, and squared my shoulders.

I put on my brightest smile, pretending I hadn’t heard a thing.

She fumbled with her napkin, looking guilty for a split second before recovering.

Her voice was sharp, but I could tell she was flustered.

I shrugged, trying to keep things light.

I tried to sound sweet, hoping maybe she’d soften, just a little.

She sighed, shaking her head like she couldn’t believe I was still so polite.

Mrs. Phelps had been our neighbor since forever. She always had a sharp tongue and a soft heart.

The other ladies laughed, and for a moment, the tension broke.

She mumbled something about needing to start dinner and shuffled inside, leaving her peanut shells behind.

Mrs. Phelps leaned in, lowering her voice. "We all know your family’s good people, but you never know what folks might say."

She laughed, shaking her head. "Just keep being yourself, Addie. That’s all anyone can ask."

I promised, waving goodbye as I headed inside. Mrs. Phelps winked, handing me a butterscotch from her apron pocket.

I tried to focus on math, but my mind kept drifting back to the porch and Grandma’s words. Still, I told myself it didn’t matter. Family was family, even when it was complicated.