Mom quickly opened the balcony door and pointed. “Over there, Marcela packed them up for you.”
I glanced at the bags on the balcony, crammed with a mess of my belongings.
“Whose idea was this?
“This house was bought with my money. Am I not even entitled to a room?”
Mom hung her head, feigning helplessness, while Marcela shouted arrogantly from outside, “Alina Weinberg, so what if you bought the house? Are you kicking me out now?"
“You’re all family, but I'm the outsider.” I said.
Tired of arguing, I pushed open the study door. My brother, Colton, was inside playing a game.
“Colton, they turned my room into a storage closet. Where am I supposed to stay?”
He took off his headset and looked at me. “Give me a minute, I’m almost done.”
I stood there, watching. After finishing his game, he walked over.
“Don't be mad. It’s Mom and Marcela. They’re always saying there’s too much stuff and no place to put it, so they used your room.
“How about this? Marcela and I will stay at a hotel for a few days. You can use our room.”
As he spoke, he asked, “How long are you staying this time?”