Uprooted

“Well kids,” my mom purses her lips. A brown box is tucked under her arm. “This will be our home for the next three years.” My dad nods in agreement and ruffles my hair.
I glance at my sister, Nikhol, and grimace before looking up at the huge tacky house. It’s… pink, hot pink, with puke green shutters. My sister chews on a thumb nail of the same hue as the house.
“Nikki, don’t do that.” Mom says, not taking her eyes off the house.
None of us can.