* * *
Over the next few days, I silently stew about the impending move, hunting for alternatives. My friend Paulo’s family might let me spend my senior year with them. I doubt Dad would pay my room and board, and it’s virtually impossible for anyone under eighteen to find work in Chicago, but Mom might take pity and give me the money.
I ultimately dismiss the plan and the half-dozen others I come up with. It’s not that they aren’t workable. It’s Zoey. I’ve accepted that joining the military will mean missing out on the last few years of her life. What I haven’t planned on is losing the upcoming one. That’s too much of a sacrifice. I have no choice but to go to Cascadia.