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Prologue
Amelia
Age Sixteen
“So, what do you think Mom and Dad want to talk to us about tonight?” My big brother, Nick, bounces on the edge of my bed while I sit at my desk, filling out my new planner for school.
We still have two weeks left until the beginning of my junior year, but I’m always excited for the start of the new school year. My backpack is full of brand-new notebooks, my planner is color coordinated for each subject, and I already have my outfit picked out for the first day. Plus, my braces are finally off after five painstakingly long years, my boobs decided to arrive fashionably late to the party as well but better late than never, and I finally found a mousse that can tame these wild blond curls of mine.
I feel like I’ve reached the other side of puberty with an air of confidence, so I’m optimistic that this year will be a turning point for me in the awkwardness I’ve felt most of my life growing up.
To anyone on the outside, it would appear that I have everything—parents who are still happily married, a big brother that I genuinely get along with and am close to, and good grades with high hopes of attending UCLA in two years.
But inside, I struggle with finding my purpose. I know I want to do something with my life that will make a difference, something that can help people and make the world a better place, but I haven’t pinpointed what that is just yet.
My mother tells me to give it time, that I don’t need to have all of the answers about my life right this second. But internally, I’m freaking out. Being a planner by nature forces me to think ahead, contemplate my future, and when I can’t decide on what happens next, my anxiety flares.
Thank God I have constants in my life that I can rely on because if my foundation started to crumble, I honestly don’t know what I might do.
“Maybe they want to do one more mini vacation before we go back to school,” I suggest, spinning around in my seat to face him.
Nick and I are only thirteen months apart, so we’ve always been close. While my brother has established himself as a popular jock in school, captain of the football team, and all-around cool guy, I've struggled to fit into this world. However, he always makes sure I’m included with his friends, that people know not to mess with me, and if anyone treats me wrong, they’ll hear from him. I’m sad this will be the last year we attend school together since Nick will be a senior and leave for college next summer, but that just gives us even more of a reason to enjoy more family time together while we can.
“That would be sweet. We only went camping once. Maybe they found another place with last-minute availability.”
“Or maybe they’re going to ditch us and take a trip just the two of them. They haven’t done that in a while.”
Nick and I know that our parents are not typical, especially after being married for almost twenty years. They still act like they fell in love just yesterday and could be the poster couple for what a marriage should look like. Sometimes they are too sickeningly happy, but I try to remind myself it’s better if they can’t keep their hands off each other than hate each other’s guts.
Plenty of my friends and other kids we go to school with have parents that are divorced, and I count my blessings each night that Nick and I aren’t in that same boat.
“Nick! Amelia!” my mom calls from downstairs.
“Let’s go get this over with so we can eat. I’m starving.” Nick leaps from my bed and races downstairs.
“When are you not hungry?” I call after him, laughing as we enter the living room, finding our parents sitting on opposite ends of the couch. Huh, that’s weird. They’re usually right next to each other.
“Hey, you two. Have a seat.” My father directs us to sit on the loveseat opposite them, his facial expression hard to read.
“Is everything okay?” I ask as we sit down, anxiety flaring up the longer I take in their body language. My father is leaning forward, resting his forearms on his knees, and my mother is curled up into her corner of the couch, her legs tucked up under her with a box of tissues sitting on the table beside her.
“Did someone die?” my brother echoes my next thought, and then my heart begins to race even faster.
“No. No one died,” my mother replies calmly, almost eerily. “But your father and I need to talk to you about something.”
My father clears his throat. “We have always tried to be honest with you two,” he starts, looking over at my mom.
“We know.”
“Well, this is one of those moments where honesty isn’t going to be easy, but it’s important,” my mother continues for him.
“What the heck is going on?” Nicks asks impatiently.
My parents share a look, and then my mother speaks. “Your father and I are separating.”
Suddenly, the floor feels like it’s giving out underneath me. “What?”
“Seriously?” Nick asks.
“Yes. For a while, anyway,” my dad replies.
“Are you…are you two getting a divorce?” I whisper, not wanting to know the answer but fearful that the reality is there.
They share a look again. “We…we don’t know,” my mother says.
Nick shakes his head. “I’m sorry. I’m confused. You two love each other. Heck, most of the time, I have to shield my eyes when I walk into a room because you’re playing tonsil hockey.”
My mother begins to cry, a few tears running down her cheeks. “We do love each other, son…”
“This just doesn’t make sense,” I say, looking back and forth between us. “Was it all just an act then? Were you two pretending so we wouldn’t suspect anything?”
“Um, well…”
