I managed to get through the school day with minimal pain, but every corner that I turned I felt eyes on me. Even the eyes of a certain someone who sent me an email before I'd even woken up this morning. I'd wondered all day if I should have answered him, but I didn't want or need help from Graham Ryan and his illiterate posse so why would I have given him the time of day?

I thought I'd be able to go to school and forget about the talk my parents want to have tonight, but having everyone stare at me like I'm some kind of four-legged freak is definitely worse than whatever news they have to talk about tonight.

During lunch, I felt Graham's eyes burning holes in my back, and when I turned around to look at him, he looked away quicker than ever before. I hadn't even known eyes could move so fast.

After school, I picked Hallie up, and she sat in the passenger seat picking at her fingernails the whole way home. It was unfair of my mom to tell us before school that they wanted to have a family dinner, especially considering she knows how awful Hallie's anxiety gets over things like this.

****

At 5:30, my mom calls us down for dinner. Hallie and I walk out of our bedrooms at the same time, and we exchange a glance. She looks as if she hasn't been able to breathe properly, and I'm sure she probably hasn't.

"Here, I'll help you down," she wraps my arm around her tiny neck. I lean into her lightly, and she helps me down the stairs. She's stronger than I thought she would be. In more ways than one.

When we get downstairs, I grab her hand and squeeze it. "Relax, Hal. It'll be okay," I give her a small smile, and she nods her head.

"I hope so...I really hope so," her eyes still look worried, and I know nothing that I say will make her feel any better.

As we make our way into the kitchen and take our designated seats across from one another, sitting around the table is just as awkward as I'd expected it to be. My mom sits at the end of the table wringing her hands while my dad finishes dinner in the kitchen. It is a rare occurrence that my mom didn’t do the cooking, so things are already weirder than usual.

When my dad brings out the food, he gives my mom an awkward side-eye. I don't think I was meant to see it, but Hallie is texting on her phone so luckily she didn’t. This is worse than I thought it would be. Dad takes his seat at the end opposite her and crosses his hands over the table, letting out a sigh as he leans back in his chair.

"Your mother and I wanted you both here tonight, all together, because we have something we need to tell you," he sighs again and I feel myself holding my breath.

I look across the table at Hallie who is biting down on her lower lip so hard that I think she's going to make herself bleed. I kick her under the table to get her attention and when she looks at me she releases her lip and her shoulders relax some. I keep my foot against hers under the table and brace myself for what’s to come.

"Look, girls, there's uh,” he clears his throat. “There's no easy way to say this," I feel a lump form in my throat as I look over to my mom who is moving her food around on her plate with her fork, not making eye contact with anyone. "Your mother and I are getting a divorce."

For a few seconds I feel like my senses are shut off. There’s a buzzing noise in my ears, the kind that my mom always said was from people talking about you behind your back, but I think it’s because my brain has turned itself off. I never thought there would come a time when my parents wouldn’t be together. What will this mean for Thanksgiving, or Christmas? And our birthdays? Who do we spend those with?

I'm staring at the mashed potatoes on my plate when I hear a semi-muted sniffle escape my mom. Our eyes meet, and she instantly looks away.

I look up at Hallie is who staring at me, unsure what she should be doing. All of the color in her face is gone, and she looks as if she may vomit.

Before I can say anything, Hal is pushing herself out of her chair and running toward the staircase. My dad sits at the table with his head tilted toward the floor so he can’t see anything, and my mom looks pale as a ghost. When neither of them say anything, I push myself out of my seat and take off after her, forgetting about my injury, and ignoring the bomb that my father just dropped on us.

"Girls, please," my mom call after us, her voice cracking in pain. I wince at the sound of it, but make my way upstairs anyway.

When I get into Hallie's room she's slumped on her bed with a pillow over her head. I close her door and lock it behind me before walking over to her and sitting next to her shaking body.

"Hal," she moves her hand to shoo me away, but I stay where I am. "Wanna go skate?"

Her head perks up immediately and she wipes the tears from her eyes.

"Really? You can't even skate though," she puts her head back down and reaches for her covers to lift over her face.

"I asked if you wanted to skate, not me. If you want to go, get your stuff and be ready in five minutes," I leave her laying on her bed, and I head into my bedroom to check the online rink schedule. Every other Thursday night at 6:00 Graham Ryan has the ice booked for a private session.

Luckily for me, Graham Ryan owes me a favor, and I'm about to cash it in.