ALIANA

King hates mornings.

Correction—King hates anything that spells change.

I know this because the moment I tell him we're going to his new school, he stops chewing his cereal and looks at me like I've personally betrayed him.

“No,” he says.

He looks me dead in the eye and says this like my employer.

I sip my coffee slowly, watching him over the rim. “Good morning to you too honey.”

He adds, folding his arms, “I don’t want a new school mommy; I want my old school.”

Old school meaning private tutors, flexible hours, the building where everyone already knew him as that kid, the one with too many...