Neither Hartley nor I say much on the walk back to her house. Me because I can't stop thinking about Madame LaRue's good news, and her because ... well, I'm not exactly sure why. I think she's upset she didn't have her cards read.

There's a nervous flutter in my stomach as I rehash every word the old woman said, but mostly what she revealed about the card of the future. Four figures stood beneath that rainbow: a father, mother, sister and brother, just like my family back home. I'm still baffled by how much she knew about the drama I've been trying to keep secret.

When we reach Hartley's house, I take the porch steps two at a time and let myself in the front door. No one's home. "Where's your mom?"

Hartley shrugs. She's still distracted. "Probably at yoga or dropping business orders off at the post office."

Her tone is stilted but I let it slide. If she wants to be in a bad mood, so be it. But I'm not about to let hers ruin mine. Not after the amazing gift I just received.

My back pocket vibrates. I pull out my phone and the name Mom lights up the screen. As promised, I call her every single night, but this is the first I've been excited to talk to her. I can't wait to tell her what Madame LaRue said!

"I'm taking this upstairs," I call over my shoulder. If Hartley responds I don't hear her. I race into her bedroom and close the door behind me. I'm breathless when I answer. "Mom, you'll never guess what just happened!"

"What happened?" she asks. She sounds kind of funny.

"I had my tarot cards read!"

Mom hesitates before answering. "Tarot cards? Is that how you're spending the money I gave you?"

Of course she'd say that. "No, Mom. It was free," I say defensively. "This old lady read them for me. And you won't believe this, but she's blind! She can't even see the cards but she knew exactly what they were and what they meant! Isn't that crazy?" I can barely contain my excitement.

Mom sounds less enthusiastic. "That's great, honey."

"She said—"

"Sweetie, there's something we need to talk about."

Uh oh. Mom's using her serious voice. The same voice she used when she told us my grandfather passed away last year. A ribbon of unease coils in my chest. "Is everything alright?"

"I know this isn't what you wanted to hear, and I feel awful doing this over the phone, but—your father and I are getting a divorce."

What? NO. This can't be. Not after Madame LaRue just read my cards! This is the complete opposite outcome than what she'd promised! The room starts to spin and a black fog creeps in around the corners.

"Gwen, honey? Are you there?"

People who are in love do not get divorced. They took an oath when they got married. Doesn't that mean anything to them? We're supposed to be a family!

Anger replaces my unease. "How can you do this to me and Henry?"

"Gwen!" Mom says, that one word a mixture of hurt and rage. "Your father and I didn't want this to happen."

"Did you even try to fix things?" I sound desperate but I don't care. "Did you try to work it out?"

"We did try. But sometimes people grow apart. I wish things could have turned out differently. You and your brother deserve better than this."

"Does Henry know? Do I need to come home?"

"He's fine. I told him last night. He's wants to stay at camp. He's taking the news much better than I could have ever imagined."

The words gush out before I can stop them. "Because he doesn't realize that you've ruined our lives."

A strange sort of silence stretches between us. Mom feels every inch as far away as she actually is. There's a muffled sound on the other end of the phone and for a moment I wonder if she's crying. But when she speaks again, her words are strong and assured. "I understand you're upset, and I don't blame you. No child should ever have to go through something like this."

"Then why are you forcing us to?"

"Gwen ..." She lets out a long breath. "It's not that simple. Some people are better off apart than they are together. Believe me, both your father and I are devastated that you kids are caught in the middle."

"Daddy's upset?" I repeat. "If he's so upset, why didn't he call me himself? Why is Tiffanie more important to him than his own children?"

Her voice is weak, her energy drained. Even worse than when she had the flu and spent the entire week sleeping on the recliner because she couldn't breathe when she lied in bed. "I can't speak for your father, honey. I can only speak for myself."

And then it dawns on me. This is his fault. And it probably always has been.

"I have to go. I'll talk to you later." I hang up just as she's calling my name. But what I have to do can't wait.

I slide the screen of my phone to Recent Calls and hit Daddy, and then not-so-patiently wait for him to pick up. Absentmindedly, my fingers fumble with the necklace around my neck; the pearl he gave me for my birthday. The one I never take off. After what feels like an eternity, he finally answers. I grip the pearl tighter.

"Sweet Pea! I'm so happy you called!"

"Cut the bullshit." I'm boiling over with anger and can't summon the desire to fight it. Whether he likes it or not, my father's going to hear exactly what's on my mind. He's so far away anyhow, it's not like he can punish me. Even if he could—I don't care. "I just talked to Mom."

There's a pause. "She told you." It's more of a statement than a question. "Gwen, I'm sorry this is happening. I know it can't be easy on you, but I really think it's for the best. Someday, I think you'll see that, too."

For the best? He thinks deserting his family is for the best? "Who's it best for, Dad? For us? Or for you?"

"I think it's best for everyone," he says slowly.

"And I think you're a selfish prick." There's a lump in my throat. I swallow past it. "You left your family. There's not supposed to be anything more important than that. We're supposed to stay together through thick and thin."

"Honey, please try to understand. I wasn't happy, and I hadn't been for a long time. I can't help that I fell in love."

Fell in love? What does he mean he fell in love? I'm hurt and confused. "With Tiffanie?" I suddenly regret calling. "But you said she was only your friend."

"She was a friend. And then she became something more," he says. "I didn't plan for this to happen, honey. Neither of us did."

They didn't plan for this to happen, but they obviously didn't try to stop it either. And all this time I believed his lies.

"Don't you honey me!" I scream. The pearl is still pinched between my fingers. I rip off the necklace and let it drop to floor. The friction burns the back of my neck but I ignore the sting. "I don't care what you planned. You broke our family! What kind of father are you?"

"Gwendolyn, please—"

I cut him off. "I hope you're happy with Tiffanie because I never want to talk to you again!"

I turn my phone off completely and throw it at the wall. It rebounds against the impact and lands on the carpet in one unsatisfyingly whole piece. Stupid Otterbox.

The bedroom door cracks open and Hartley pokes her head inside. "Are you alright? I thought I heard scream—" Her gaze moves from my phone, to the broken necklace, and finally to me. Her eyes widen. "What happened?"

My parents are getting divorced. I try to push the words out of my mouth but they won't budge.

Instead, they swirl around inside of me, ripping my heart in two. Mom and Dad were supposed to work things out—the tarot cards said they would!

"She was wrong," I choke out. Something strange is building in my chest. A cough maybe? Or a cry?

Confusion fills Hartley's eyes. "Who was wrong?"

It's definitely a cry. I sag onto the bed, molten tears rushing down my cheeks. I don't bother to brush them away. "Madame LaRue. She said my parents were going to get back together, but now they're getting divorced. I hate them. I hate them so much!"

I dig my elbows into my knees and bury my face in my hands, my shoulders shaking violently as all of the hurt I've been holding onto pours out in soul-crushing sobs.

"Gwen ..." Hartley is at my side in an instant, her arm wrapped around my shoulders. "Talk to me."

But I can't. All I can do is cry.

"When did they split up?" she asks when I'm finally able to speak.

I should have known this was coming. I should have seen it. How could I not have seen it? My voice is tiny. "Six months ago."

She breathes in deep and lets it out slowly; a full-bodied sigh I feel against my side. "Can I ask what happened?"

I drag my palms over my eyes. They're puffy and sore. "My dad said he wasn't happy anymore."

Her tone takes on a sharp edge. "He wasn't happy? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"I don't know! He wasn't happy. With us. With my mom. With our life ..." My voice cracks with emotion. It takes another minute to compose myself before I can go on. "He moved out."

"He moved?" She pulls me even closer. "Why didn't you tell me?"

She's my best friend in the whole world. Why didn't I tell her? It seems stupid now that I was so intent on keeping it from her. "I was embarrassed. I didn't want you to know. I didn't want anyone to know. In the back of my head, I thought they'd get back together. I didn't think ..." Long pause. "I didn't think they'd get divorced!"

The tears are back again, and this time stronger than before. Hartley lets me cry until there's nothing left to give.

"My dad is such an asshole!" I finally yell, not caring if the entire neighborhood overhears. "All he cares about is Tiffanie and what they're plans are for the weekend."

She grows rigid against me. "Who the hell is Tiffanie?"

"His idiot secretary," I spit out. "He barely even sees me and Henry anymore. He doesn't have time for us, he's always with her. He's in love." The words snag something raw. "How could I have thought he'd come home? I'm so stupid."

"You are not stupid," she says. "Do you hear me? You have never been stupid." I pivot away from her. "Look at me." She drops to the floor and kneels in front of me, grasping my hands in hers.

Slowly, I meet her eyes.

"You are kind and trustworthy and you believe the best in people. And no matter how big of a jerk someone's been, you always give them the benefit of the doubt. That's one of the many things that make you special, Gwen—your faith in humanity."

I roll my eyes. "So, you're saying I'm a total pushover."

"You are not a pushover. You're a good person. Probably the best person I know."

"But she just said they'd get back together."

"Who? Madame LaRue?" Hartley cocks her head in the sort of way that means she's thinking. Hard. "I didn't hear her say that." Her voice is quiet. "She said there's going to be a fresh start in your home. A new beginning. I hate to tell you this, but that doesn't necessarily mean it's with your dad. Maybe she meant a fresh start with just you, your mom and Henry? That doesn't have to be a bad thing," she adds when she sees the look on my face. "It's just ... different, is all."

What she's saying makes sense, but my heart sinks all the same. "But we were happy," I tell her. "Before he left, we were happy."

"Happy?" She looks confused again. "Gwen, we've been friends forever and your parents argued all the time. Happy's not a word I would have used to describe them. That's why I asked you to spend the night at my house all the time. The way they would talk to each other when they thought no one was listening made me super uncomfortable. I didn't even think they liked each other much less loved. I could never understand why they were together in the first place."

My face flames. What she's saying is true. I think back as far as I can and realize I have never known a time when my parents didn't quarrel. Like, every single day. And over things as silly as the dishes or who put gas in the car last. They almost never communicate in positive ways—that is when they communicate at all. How could I have not noticed this before?

"I'm sorry," she says. Her voice is thick. "Maybe I shouldn't have said anything."

I shake my head. "No, I'm glad you did." I sniffle loudly and wipe the side of my hand against my nose. Hartley leans over to the dresser, pulling a tissue from a pink polka-dotted box. She hands it over and I blow into loudly. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you before."

She sits back on the bed and drapes an arm around me, adjusting as I lie my head against her shoulder. "I get it. Everyone has secrets. You're no different."

I'm no different.

I'm not sure if that makes me feel better or worse. Ever since my dad moved out I've spent so much time and effort trying to be good; hoping there was a way I could get my parents back together. But it was all for nothing.

My family never stood a chance.