Being The New Girl

1: You're Getting a Divorce?

"You're getting a divorce?"

My parents, seated on opposite sides of the room, glance at each other and nod before dropping their gazes to the floor. They have told me the news three times now and yet I find myself still unable to fully process their words.

To me, this is more than just a split.

For my entire life, my parents have acted like they were truly in love. When I looked to them, I found something that I dreamed of holding, even if it was just for a second. Every move they made in tandem reinforced the idea of true love in my mind.

But those simple actions that I once found solace in—the whispers full of promise, kisses on the lips when they thought I wasn't looking... Was it all just an act? It had to have been for at least some time now.

I open my eyes to realize that they were shut, and that we have been sitting here in silence for a while now. My parents' eyes are trained on me, tentatively, and neither of them look ready to be the first to speak in the eye of the storm. Do they really think I'm going to break down right in front of them? No. No. For their sake and mine, I can act, too.

Taking a deep breath, I wipe all of the emotion from my face. "So what happens now?"

They look surprised at my nonchalance. Wary, but slightly relieved. My mom is the first to recover.

"Well, you see—"

"That's the thing—"

My parents look at each other again, and that is when I notice the poorly hid distaste for each other swirling in the single glance.

My father looks away first. "Go ahead."

I turn my head to protect myself from the blow that is sure to come. "Just tell me already, and whatever you do, don't sugarcoat it."

My mom blows out a long breath, and the words come with it in a rush. "We're moving."

I freeze, slowly straightening up to face her from across the room. "What?" We both wince when my voice catches.

Hesitantly, she reaches out a hand to comfort either me or her, I'm not sure which, but then she decides to think better of it, pulling her arm back into herself and slouching in my desk chair in defeat. "I said we're moving."

"Yeah, I heard that the first time. Can you be more specific?" The bitterness slips into my tone against my will. "'We?' As in the two of us? Why can't I just stay here? All my..."—my friends, my volleyball team, the beach, my life, my home—"everything is here." My voice drops to a whisper as the severity of the situation sets in.

"It's just not that simple," she tries soothingly, and this time she musters the courage to put a hand on my arm.

I shake it off and scoot away from her as far as I can go until my back hits the headboard. "Don't try to placate me, Mom. No sugarcoating, remember?" I close my eyes and try to take a calming breath. It doesn't work. "Where?"

"Up north to a town called Rosenvale Heights where my sister and your cousins live." Her voice slowly gets more optimistic, as if she thinks that one factor might magically sway me to her side. Yeah, no chance.

"Right. They moved there five years ago, and since then, we've never been there once. And now we're moving there? This day keeps getting better and better," I mutter, my hands clenching involuntarily.

"Once you see the house I've got rented for us up there, then you'll realize it isn't going to be as bad as you think. I can show you pictures right now, if you want."