I wake up in far less physical pain than I’ve been in for the past few days, but the second my eyes peer open my brain instantly reminds me of my parent's divorce.

I sigh and roll away from the sunlight sneaking its way through my blinds. The pesky light reminds me that I need to remember to ask my mom for black out curtains for my dorm room at Boston College next year.

Taking my phone off of the charger, I press the home button, and when the screen comes to life a text message from an unknown number is at the top of my notification thread. My heartbeat quickens as I click on it.

"I'd like to help you get around school today... if you'd allow it."

If I'd allow it... I roll my eyes.

"Who's this?" I type, and before I can delete it I press send.

I roll out of bed and head into the bathroom to shower and prepare myself for the day. The dark circles that have lived under my eyes for the past few days are gone, and I smile at myself in the mirror before stepping into the warm water. Between the Tylenol taking away my back pain, and my parents not fighting, I slept like a baby last night.

As I'm massaging conditioner into the ends of my hair, I hear my phone vibrate on the sink. Quickly, I finish rinsing off and hop out of the shower without shaving my legs to check my phone.

When I flip it over a drop of water falls from my hair and plops right atop of the front-facing camera. I ignore it when I see the unknown number appear again.

"Lol. Graham Ryan...but I think you actually knew that."

I smirk and shake my head at my phone.

The house is eerily quiet, and I can't stand the awkward tiptoeing that I notice my mom doing when she goes to knock on Hallie's bedroom door. I give her a small smile and shut my door behind me. I hear three gentle taps on the door across the hall from mine, and there's no response on the other side.

"Hal, are you up?"

Hallie never sleeps later than me. I press my ear to my door to listen in further.

My mom knocks again, and I hear the door fling open and bounce off of Hallie's wall. Someone is not in a good mood today, and it’s surprisingly not me.

"I'm up," she says before slamming it shut again. Mom sighs sigh before retreating back to her own bedroom.

I don't know if my mom had expected us to take their announcement better than we are or what, but my she seems to be annoyed at how her thirteen-year-old daughter is handling the news of her parent's divorce. Both sets of our grandparents are together, so neither of our parent’s ever had to deal with this when they were our age. Lucky them.

I throw on a white polo shirt, a plaid skirt, black stockings, and my Mary Jane's before pulling my green cardigan over my outfit and opening my bedroom door where Hallie stands waiting for me.

"You take forever in the morning, and your hair is still not done," she taps her white Converse on the floor and crosses her arms. "Who texted you so early this morning? I heard your phone vibrate on the sink."

"None of your business, will you French braid my hair?" I give her a small smile, and her eyes light up. She loves doing my hair.

"Yes!” she says excitedly, running into my bedroom and standing next to my vanity seat. "Hallie James Salon is now open for business."

I shake my head at her and take a seat. After a few minutes, my hair is braided neatly down my back, and she secures it with a clear elastic.

"Thank you," I say turning in my mirror to ensure she'd left no bumps. "Probably your best braid-job yet," I smile.

"Every braid-job I do is the best, Scar," she rolls her eyes at me, and we walk out of my bedroom together.

When we get downstairs, I look out of the dining room window to see that my dad's car isn't in the driveway and there's no breakfast made. My mom comes down the stairs in a hurry and runs her fingers through her hair.

"Sorry girls, I forgot to make breakfast. I have bagels. Is that okay?"

I give her a small smile and look down at Hallie who just a minute ago had been joking and her usual self, but is now burning holes through my mother.

"Actually, if it's okay, I think we'll just go through the Starbucks drive-thru, and we can get sandwiches or something?"

My mom nods her head and walks over to the small table next to the front door to pull her wallet out of her purse.

"Here's $20, this should be enough, right?" her face looks swollen and tired, and she hasn't even done her makeup yet. It’s kind of messed up that seeing her like this almost makes her seem more human and less intimidating.

I nod and grab my crutches from the wall.

"$20 is perfect Mom. Thank you," I contemplate hugging her, but I'm interrupted by Hallie.

"We should really get going. Going to be very late," she lies.

I roll my eyes at her and open the door.

"Let's go then," I sigh.

When we get into our car, she lets out an obnoxious breath.

"What?" I look over to her while plugging my phone into the aux cord.

"I don't know who to be mad at," she huffs.

"For now, be mad at no one. It's important to just be there for Mom. She's upset...can't you tell?"

She crosses her arms over her body and slumps in her seat.

"It's just," she groans. "It's just our parents are the only parents of my friend group who are divorced...or well, soon to be divorced. What do I say to my friends?" her voice cracks.

"Well, you don't have to bring it up unless you want to talk about it with someone," I turn the knob on the heat and check my rear view mirror. "You can also talk to me, you know."

She looks up at me and smiles before pulling her phone out of her pocket and scrolling through Instagram. I hand her mine, and she searches a song in Spotify and presses play. I see a text notification pop up on the screen from the corner of my eye, and her eyes grow wide when she clicks into the text thread.

"Give me that," I reach for my phone but she quickly pulls it out of my reach. The last thing that I need is my sister going to school and telling all of her little friends that I'd been texting Graham Ryan.

"An unknown number just double texted you," she scrolls through the messages, and if I weren't driving, I'd have snatched my phone from her. "Graham freaking Ryan just texted you. Double texted you!”

I roll my eyes and grab it out of her hand without taking my eyes off of the road.

"It's none of your business.”

"I should've known," she says clasping her hands together like a cheerleader.

"What?" I shake my head at her excitement.

"You guys were sitting really close last night," I can see her smirk in my peripheral vision. "You guys are definitely a thing."

"We are not a thing. He just wants to help me carry my stuff since he's the cause of my injury," I grip my steering wheel tighter and reposition myself in my seat. I pull in front of her school, and she still wears a large annoying smile. "Don't go running your mouth to your little posse."

"I won't...yet," she slams the door and runs off to meet her friends. I roll my eyes and put the car back into drive, making my way to my own school around the corner.

When I pull up, a tall figure stands in the center of my usual parking spot. A lump forms in my throat as I watch him step away and wave me into the spot.

Graham Ryan.

He opens my door for me and when he speaks a cloud of air forms around his words from the cold.

"What're you doing here?" I grab my purse from the passenger seat floor and push myself out of the car.

"I told you I was going to help you," he raises an eyebrow and opens my rear door to pull out my crutches.

"Well, actually you said you'd help me if I allowed it. I do believe I never answered you?" I take my crutches from him.

"Uh, you replied a thumbs up emoji like five minutes ago?" He shows me his phone, and I roll my neck back and groan.

"That was my sister," I feel my cheeks warm in embarrassment.

He laughs and runs a hand through his hair. I wish he’d stop pushing his hair out of his face like that. It’s too much to handle this early in the morning.

"Well, I'm here now, so how can I help?" he smirks.

"My book bag is behind the passenger seat," I nod my head to the opposite side of my car and he walks over there without hesitation. He pulls the pink bag over his shoulders and grins.

"English with Fitz, right?"

"Yes, we've been in the same English class for a few months now, good job," I mutter. What a jock.

"I knew we had English, Scarlett. I just didn't want to seem too creepy knowing your schedule and all," he rolls his eyes dramatically, and if I didn't know any better, I'd think he was mocking me.

"You know my schedule?" I question.

He nods. "I pay attention.”

I shake my head and crutch ahead of him, wondering why he pays attention to me, and how long he had been.