Deeper Than The Skin

Chapter 8- Broken

Grace

Luke🐧: hey come over?

Luke🐧: or r u busy

Luke🐧: if you are thats k

Zali🐬💛: grace i need to talk to you

Zali🐬💛: (2) Missed Calls

Luke🐧: gracie??

Unknown Number: GRACE I GOT A PHONE!!!!!!!! 🍙☕️🍦🍗

Zali🐬💛: grace plz

Luke🐧: you there ? :p

Nick🖕🏼: Hey, we haven't chatted recently. Want me to call?

Luke🐧: im coming round, be ther in 10

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My phone was going off like crazy.

I heard it while I was making my omelette a bit after Jaya had left for netball training Sunday morning.

I could hear Zali's ringtone and felt like I should answer, but I didn't want to burn my food. I'll answer as soon as I'm finished, I told myself.

I heard the egg sizzling and smiled. I'd learnt how to cook omelettes in home economic a few years back and since then they'd become my all time favourite snack. Breakfast, lunch, dinner, or something in between - I'd eat them 24/7.

I flipped it over and grinned smugly as I saw the perfect golden side. Did I mention I'd always been fantastic at cooking them? Because I totally was.

I had just slid my masterpiece onto a handsome plate, holding a knife in my hand to cut it into smaller pieces that would make it easier to eat when I heard the door swing open.

I spun around, the knife still in hand.

It was my mother, looking utterly exhausted and incredibly disheveled. Her thin, brown hair was falling out of its bun and dark bags underlined her eyes. Lines creased her face and her skin looked pale and sickly. I had never seen Mum in this state. She smiled wearily when she saw me.

"Hey, pumpkin," she said, trying to appear cheery. I turned my back to her.

I'd rather immaturely given my mother the cold shoulder since she'd pulled me out of Gordy. Especially since my brother Nick had been able to stay back home whereas I'd been unceremoniously forced to move to another state of Australia.

I heard her sigh. It wasn't one of her normal, I-give-up-I'll-be-in-my-room sighs; this one was aggravated.

Still I chose to remain silent.

She hadn't moved from the entrance of our house, where we'd taken to shrugging off our shoes.

"Okay, Grace," she said suddenly, a new tone in her voice that I rarely heard. "Listen to me right now." I didn't turn. "Grace!" Mum stomped up behind me and spun me around to face her. She was slightly taller with her shiny black heels on, but was still she was only about five inches taller than me.

"Grace Hansen," she said in a deadly quiet voice. I detected a slight quaver and felt a confusing mix of guilty horror at having made my rock-solid mother upset, and a twisted glee for the same reason. "You have next to no idea of the reasons we have moved here. There is a lot you don't understand going -"