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care about each other. We'll always love each other - and we'll love you, of course. But no, we're not in love anymore." I felt stung. I looked down at my plate. It was mostly full, so I began shoveling in the food. The faster I ate, the faster I could leave the table. While I was eating (and listening to myself chew, since no one was talking), I realized that my parents hadn't really answered my original question.
"Please tell me more about your problems," I said firmly. I didn't look at my parents, just at my plate, which was growing cleaner by the moment.
I heard Dad say, "Mostly we just have differences, Stace." "Irreconcilable ones," added Mom. "We are not meant to be living together any longer." That did it. I was pretty much finished with my dinner by then, so I banged my fork onto the table, stood up, threw down my napkin, and stalked away without excusing myself.
I stalked right into my bedroom and slammed the door shut. I slammed it so hard I could feel my walls shake. The china figures on my dresser rattled.
I locked my door.
Then I switched on my stereo. I put my loudest tape in the tape deck, turned the volume up as high as it would go, and blasted out my eardrums for a minute or two. But I turned the volume down before any of the neighbors could complain.
Mom and Dad knocked on my door five times that night. I wouldn't answer them. I wouldn't leave my room, either. At ten-thirty, I fell asleep with my clothes on. I didn't wake up until seven o'clock the next morning.
Chapter 6.
Thursday was the most awful morning of my life. My body felt grungy because I'd spent the night in my clothes, and my mouth felt like an old sock. It tasted the way I imagined an old sock would taste, too.
Groggily, I rolled out of bed, tripping over my sneakers, which were lying on their sides next to the bed. I turned off the power on my stereo and looked out my window. (I hadn't bothered to close the blinds the night before.) Outside I saw a chilly gray day.
Perfect, I thought. The day fit my mood.
I made my way to the door of my bedroom and listened for a moment. I wanted to put .off running into Mom or Dad for as long as possible. I didn't hear a sound. Had Dad already left for work? He usually left early - but not by seven o'clock.
I dared to open my door. Then I tiptoed into the hallway and peeked into the living room.
My father was asleep on the couch! He and Mom didn't even share their bedroom anymore. How awful. How long had that been going on? I wondered. And did Mom ever sleep on the couch or was it all up to Dad? I turned away, sure I had seen something I wasn't supposed to have seen. But it couldn't be helped. We'd all overslept a little that morning.
I retreated to the bathroom, where I locked myself in. (I seemed to feel more secure locked into places.) I took a long, hot shower and washed my hair twice. Afterward, I brushed my teeth two or three times, trying to get rid of the old-sock taste. While I was brushing, a knock sounded at the door.
"Morning, honey!" called Mom's voice. "Why don't you take it easy today? You don't have to go to school if you don't want to." In answer, I turned the water on as hard as it would go.
A few moments later I was locked in my room again, trying to decide what to wear. I was going to school, of course. There was no way I would stay at home with either Mom or Dad. (I was pretty sure they wouldn't both be there.) Another knock.
This time Dad's voice called, "Hi, Stace! How do bacon and eggs sound for breakfast? I'll cook. I'm going to the office a little later than usual this morning." I kept my mouth shut.
I had never, ever felt so angry at my parents. Not even when they had dragged me to this awful doctor who wanted to change my whole life around in order to help my diabetes.
Dad waited for my answer. When he didn't get one, he left. I heard his footsteps retreat into the living room on his way to the kitchen.
I dressed. I put on one of my better outfits - short red pants with purple