The car ride is quiet and thick with tension as I stay seated in the backseat with my arms crossed.

“We are not going to Aster Pack,” Mom says, glancing back at me for a split second.

“I don't care where we are going. I want answers and I want them now,” I grumble.

Mom sighs, turning her attention back to the road.

“Try not to get so emotional about it,” She states. My mouth drops in disbelief, and I lunge to her seat, and Dad is quick to use his arm as a shield for Mom.

I ...