Free The Year We Fell Apart by Emily Martin

up?”
    She nods and he locks his hands around her elbows, guiding her by both arms over to the bathroom. I stumble out of the way.
    “Mom? Are you okay?”
    She mumbles that she’s fine.
    Dad looks over his shoulder. “We’ll talk about that party later, Harper.”
    “But . . . okay. Just, I’m supposed to leave in a few minutes. . . .” He doesn’t answer. Mom bends over the sink, her head falling into her hands. She takes deep breaths through her mouth. “Dad? Can I help?”
    “I’ve got this. See you later tonight.”
    He shuts the bathroom door.
      *  *  *  
    Sadie talks the whole way over to her town house. I roll down the window and watch as we drive past kids running through sprinklers and playing soccer on their front lawns. We pull out of the subdivision and pass Mom’s favorite flower shop and the produce stand that she says has the freshest strawberries. I catch bits and pieces from Sadie—Will called her to ask about the party, she bought a new top to wear—but I’m not really listening.
    I’m replaying that moment back at my house. Over and over, I see Mom in pain. And I’ve never felt so helpless. I knew Mom would have bad days on the chemo, and that it would make her feel sick. I thought I was ready for that. But I wasn’t ready for this, for every last thing in my life to be completely out of my control.
    We pull to the curb and I follow Sadie inside. She kicks off her shoes and I line my sandals up next to them, walking barefoot into her living room.
    “Hey, you’re home!” Mr. Walker says from his desk in the corner.
    Sadie blows past him and into the kitchen, grabbing a diet Boomerang from the fridge before thundering up the stairs and slamming her bedroom door behind her.
    She’s been this way with her dad for as long as I’ve known her. They moved here at the start of freshman year, as soon as her parents’ divorce was finalized. That year, both Cory and Declan had a different lunch period than me. The swim season hadn’t started yet, and after spending all my free time with Cory and Declan since elementary school, I wasn’t exactly flush with other friends. Sadie’s first day of school, she walked into the cafeteria like she owned it, spotted me sitting alone, and sat down across from me. She was the most self-assured and, frankly, gorgeous girl I’d ever met. Model-thin, with a mane of golden hair reaching all the way to her waist and ridiculously perfect skin. She was a force to be reckoned with. The only boys immune to her charms were Declan and Cory, who made it clear they thought she was shallow and stuck-up and a few other choice S- words. But despite their antagonism, I certainly wasn’t going to argue when Sadie inexplicably chose me to be her friend.
    She never talks much about her mom, or the reason her parents split up. And I try to respect her privacy. Unlike most people in Carson, I know when something is none of my business.
    Her dad raises his eyebrows at me, eager like he hasn’t had a conversation with anyone in days.
    “Hi, Mr. Walker.”
    “Harper! Haven’t seen you around much lately. How have you been?”
    “All right.”
    “How are your parents?”
    My finger slips under the elastic band around my wrist. It snaps against my skin. “They’re good. Thanks.”
    “Well, tell them I said hello.”
    “Will do.” I make an awkward gesture toward the stairs and take them two at a time, slipping into Sadie’s room without knocking.
    Her walls are covered floor to ceiling with concert posters and cutouts from fashion magazines, with a few pictures of us scattered into the mix. Sadie grabs a bottle out of a shoe box in her closet and I practically lunge for it. Because if I can’t get out of this party, I’m at least going to need some help getting through it.
    “Go for it,” she says. “I’ll drive tonight.”
    Two shots and half a can of Boomerang later, I manage to repress the memory of my mother doubled over and dry heaving, and