What was breaking my heart was driving through the streets near my old suburb, places where I’d had so many good times with my parents, while Dad spoke about Mum like she was some kind of loser.

It was times like this that I wish I had a spare heart, one that I could insert until the pain passed over. One that could help me get through all of the fighting between Dad and Mum, all of the changes that were happening, without feeling like I was going to burst into tears at any moment. A heart that could help me feel strong again.

When we got to the stinking cottage, Caitlin was waiting with open arms. I pushed straight past her and went into my room.

I lay on the bed thinking about what Dad had said about Mum, his jumping to conclusions. I started to get a weird pain between my eyes, kind of like a headache, but more like a fog where my whole body started to tense up and a million thoughts flooded my mind at once.

It was true. Mum had missed my last basketball semi-final because she was drinking. There were lots of times I’d seen her drunk. Sometimes, when I was younger, if I stayed up after a party my parents were hosting, I’d see her so drunk that it was like her eyes were rolling around in her head. Other times she slurred her words. But the thing is, Dad drinks, too. Not like Mum, but both Dad and Caitlin drink. So didn’t that make him a hypocrite?

I’d had enough for one day. I rolled over, deciding that once I’d pulled myself together tomorrow, I was going to sit down with Dad and Caitlin and tell them what a weird school they’d sent me to, not missing any little detail.

CHAPTER 3

I was so relieved when my first week at school ended. Mum messaged me on the Friday night to let me know that she’d pick me up at 9 am the next day. That night, while I packed my bag with my things for the weekend, I messaged Katie and Jane to see if they wanted to catch up on Sunday.

After a quick shower the next morning, I put on some lazy weekend clothes: a pair of French linen shorts that Mum had bought me, a white tee and thongs. I went into the living area to have some breakfast.

‘Morning, Phoebe.’ Dad kissed me on the forehead before pushing past to get to the coffee percolator that was starting to hiss at boiling point.

Caitlin looked up from the yoga mat where she was stretching out her back. She lifted her chin high in cat pose and strained to say, ‘Morning. You look nice, Phoebe.’

I shrugged and poured some oats into a small saucepan to boil.

‘Do you want coffee?’ Dad asked Caitlin.

‘Leave it on the stovetop for me,’ she said, swinging into a downwards dog pose.