I wake up this chilly morning. I want to sleep for hours and hours and hours on end. But that's not going to work. I get up and get ready. I play Immortals by Fall Out Boy on my iPod. There's something wrong with today. It's missing a puzzle piece that's hiding. Something's off. I walk into the kitchen. Mom and Dad are usually there. Only Dad is.

"Dad, where's Mom?" I say taking out one earbud.

"She-I-we-I'll explain later. Now go finish getting ready for school." He says.

I finish getting ready. Go outside. Wait. I wait for what feels like an eternity. I lean against the garage. It's bugging me how long it's taking for a school bus to get here. I take off running towards school. I realize about a mile out that this was a terrible idea. I start to walk back right when the school bus is coming my way. I missed the bus. I sigh, and start walking towards the school. I am going to be late.

. . . .

I go to English class.

"I'm assuming you all are working on your notebook project?" She says. Her gray hair is whisked into a tight bun. "You do have to keep working on that project." A pause. "But, I do want you to work on reading this great book called 'Shatter Me' by Tahereh Mafi. Then I want you to write a book report on it." She holds up the paperback book. It has an eye on the cover. The eye is crying. She hands us each a copy. "Keep the book." She says. I brush my hand over the front of it. It's not smooth like I was expecting. It's rough. Rougher than I'd expect.

. . . .

I ride the school bus home. Stare out the window. Listen to Black Parade by My Chemical Romance. I watch all the houses and trees go by in a set of blurry eyes. Someone's crying. The bus stops. Someone nudges my shoulder. I look up at the person. Can't tell who it is. I'm the one crying. I get off the bus, and run towards my house. I slam the front door closed, run to my room, and slam that door closed, too. I lean against the door, and slide down. I put my face in my hands. My sobs are coming out in a heavy heap. I don't want to mess with anyone anymore.

. . . .

I wake up on the floor. I must have fallen asleep sometime when I got back. I get on my laptop. I got an email from the school.

This months random thing is a dance off!

You have to go to the random school things, or you'll be expelled. But, of course, I don't have a boyfriend anymore, so now I can't dance by myself, and they always make you have a dancing partner. I search for the notebook my English teacher gave me, and start writing in it.

So now my English teacher wants me to read this book called Shatter Me. It sounds okay, I don't want to read it, but you know, I kinda have to. This months random theme for school is a dance off, which means I have to have a dance partner, but Kyle broke up with me . I'm desperate enough to go with that new kid Tyler just because I don't want to be paired with someone I hate. I suppose I should get going for school, don't want to be late now do I?

I get dressed and ready to go. The days keep getting slower and slower. They just drag on. I haven't seen Mom in a few days. I've only heard her when I was trying to sleep. I walk out to the kitchen. Mom's there and so is Dad.

"Hi," I say.

"Erica, take a seat," Dad says.

I sit down next to Mom. "I'm moving out," Mom says. I look at her blankly.

"What?" I say. "But, you two are married. We're a family, you can't leave."

"We're getting a divorce, but before that she's going to move out," Dad says.

I blink blink blink back the tears that are stinging my eyes.

"We're a family, you can't leave us," I say again. I bite my lip.

"Erica, we're just not cut out for each other," Mom says.

"No," I stand up. "You can't! I won't let you, we're a family. You can't leave us!" My voice is raised by now.

"Erica, no, this is what we want, not you, we already made our decision." Dad says.

Tears leak out of my eyes. I run outside, and wait for the bus. This isn't happening this isn't happening this isn't happening. I try to blink back the tears, but the October breeze keeps hitting my face making my eyes dry.

. . . .

I get my lunch, and go to one of the tables where no one is sitting at. I put my earbuds in, and start to play Teenagers by My Chemical Romance. Music is the only thing I have left nowadays. I sigh and eat my peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

. . . .

3 more days until the dance off. Until I have to dance with nobody. All because Kyle had to break up with me.

I lay in bed looking up at the ceiling. My cat lays at my feet. I've lost a lot of things in life. But none that were as severe as my parents getting divorced.

So... It's been a while since I've wrote in here hasn't it? My parents are splitting up, and I'm being a fake girlfriend for the new kid Tyler. I don't really know what to do anymore. But, I'm glad the Shatter Me book is a good book, I'm almost done with it. It's about this 17 year old girl who's touch is power, and when she touches people or people touch her skin they get, like, tortured, some of them die. In a way some of the things that she talks about are similar to what I'm going through, like she said that she feels lonely, I feel lonely... Ya know? Yeah... So... I don't know what to write anymore. It's almost November! November has Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving has food. And food good.

I get up out of bed, and sit on the trampoline. I smell the fresh air of autumn. The leaves fall off the trees in a brown and red heap. Nothing in life is going how I wanted it to. I guess that's life.

. . . .

Mom's moved all of her stuff out of the house. I don't know where she's living yet, I haven't been there. I'm supposed to be going to her house every other week. I don't know if she'll have a bed for me there. If some clothes will be there for me. I don't know what I'm expecting. But I'm going over there today just to check out the place. Mom picks me up in her red Honda CR-V. The seats are leather. The ride is quiet. When we get to her house she pulls into the garage. It's a huge house.

"Why so big?" I say.

"I've always wanted more kids, just your father didn't want anymore, so I'll be adopting." She says walking into the mudroom.

"You want me to share a room with little kids?"

She shakes her head. "No. You will have your own bedroom, everyone else will have to share."

She walks into the kitchen. It's a nice sized kitchen. She takes me into the dining room, the living room. She shows me where her bedroom is on the main floor. Then she brings me upstairs. It's a narrow staircase. When you reach the top you have to crouch down a bit so you don't hit your head. Then, you walk down the narrow hallway.

"You can choose any of these 3 bedrooms." She says.

I walk in all three. The first one is smaller than the other two. But, it has the bathroom right there connected to the bedroom. It has a fairly large walk-in closet. The next one is right across the hall from the first. It's the biggest out of all of them. It has an area for your bed, and an area for whatever you want. The closet is tiny, but it goes back further like a secret hiding spot. The third bedroom is all the way down at the end of the hall, and is medium sized. It has windows that overlook the street in front of the house. It has a big closet that slopes down a bit. I like this one the best.

I walk down the stairs and find Mom. "I like the one that's at the end of the hall the best." I say.

Mom nods. "Good," She says. "How about, we go shopping for new clothes, and furniture to put in your new bedroom?"

Shopping? I love shopping! I nod really fast. Then we're out the door, in the car, and shopping for stuff.

. . . .

"I almost thought that your mother thought that this was her week," Dad says when I walk into the house. It's 9:30 p.m.

"Sorry, we went shopping, and then we h-"

"No. Erica." Dad sighs. "It's alright. It's my week to have you, and not hers. I want to spend as much time with you as I can before you leave in a few days."

Then maybe you shouldn't spend so much time at work, is what I want to say. "Sorry," I mumble.

"Come here," He says gently. I walk towards him, and he wraps my in a hug just like he used to do when I was 10. I smile at him, and walk into my small bedroom.

So.... I went to Mom's house today to check things out. I will have this nice medium sized room, with a big walk-in closet. Then Mom took me shopping for new furniture, and clothes. I love it!!! I think I'm going to pretend to be sick so I don't have to go to that stupid mandatory dance-off. Tomorrow. Is. The. Dance-off.

. . . .

I wake up early. I stare at the ceiling. Somethings not right. Whiskers my cat isn't on my bed anymore. I get up and look around my room, she's not there. I walk out of my room. Dad's up on his laptop.

"Dad," I say in a groggy voice. "Where's Whiskers?" He looks up at me with sadness. He doesn't say anything. "Where's Whiskers?" I say again. He opens his mouth closes it. Folds his hands unfolds them. Makes them into fists. Opens his hands. Wipes them on his pants.

"Whiskers has went away," He finally says.

"Dad, I'm not 6, tell me what happened,"

He takes a deep breath. I went outside to check the mail late last night because I never got it, and Whiskers ran out in the road right when a truck was coming, and a teenager who just got his license was driving. Whiskers didn't feel any pain at all. Fast death."

"Where's his body?" I say my hands shaking.

"He was decapitated. I buried him, it was gruesome." He says that so casually. My heart sinks. My own cat-my first pet-decapitated by a truck. Decapitating truck. I walk slowly to my room, and close the door. I turn on my iPod. Start playing Black Parade by My Chemical Romance. Start writing in my notebook.

Whiskers died. He was decapitated by a truck. Dad says that he felt no pain. I don't believe him. How would you feel if you got decapitated by a truck. I will never forgive the boy that did that. Dad says that he just got his license. He was testing out his new truck that his dad got him as a present. I don't understand why I keep losing everything. It's not fair. Life's not fair. Maybe I should escape. No. I can't. Not yet.

I walk out of my room. "Dad, I don't want to go to the dance-off tonight," I say. "Can I skip?"

He cocks his head. "Erica, I didn't want you to skip,"

"Why?"

"I bought you something," He goes into his room, and comes out with a dress. "When I went to your school I dominated school dance-offs. I hope that this tradition will keep going through out generation and generation." He hands me the pink poofy dress.

"It's wonderful!" I say looking at the sparkles.

"I want you home right when school ends so I can get pictures." He says.

I bring the dress into my room and get ready for school. I walk out to the bus which comes right when I walk out the door. I walk into the yellow school bus.

. . . .

Today's the day. The day that I have to go to a dance-off by myself. I think I might be sick to my stomach, but, I already put on my dress, and my sparkly silver shoes, and Dad's driving me to the school. I say good bye to Dad. Walk into the building. I walk down a few hallways until I reach the auditorium. I walk in there.

There's balloons and sparkles everywhere. And bright lights. It's absolutely wonderful.

"Does anybody not have a dancing partner?" Mr. Bewoskly says into the microphone. "If you don't have a dancing partner then come up here to see me."

I walk up on stage. He gives me a sympathetic smile knowing who my dance partner will be. A few others stumble up of stage. I pick the best looking guy there is. His name is Seth.

We walk down to the spot where we'll be dancing.

"The rules are simple," Mr. Bewoskly says. "If you or your dance partner stops dancing then you're out. The couple that stays in the longest is the winner." He scans the room. "Let's begin!" The music start playing, and me and Seth start dancing.

"Do you have a girlfriend?" I hear myself say to him.

"I do, she's just sick," He says.

"Oh," I say. My face goes red.

Minutes go by. Different songs start to play. My stomach still feels upset. I stop dancing. We're out. Seth looks at me with disgrace. The room looks like it's spinning in front of me. My legs feel numb. I can't see. Maybe eating something will make me feel better. I walk over to the food table, and pour some punch into my cup. I drink it. It doesn't make me feel better. I can't tell where I am anymore. Black spots dance around my vision. I try to find an exit but I can't. Then everything goes black.