"Fuck!" I banged the steering wheel, making a sharp turn. Of all times, my brain had to remember now—just when I was almost at school. A quick glance at my wristwatch told me it was 7:15 a.m. I might still have time to make it back. I’d forgotten Fiona's portrait at home, and I valued my life a little more than perfect attendance, so I decided to take the chance.
After a few minutes, I pulled over on the opposite side of the street, got out quickly, and crossed over. The front door was still unlocked, exactly as I’d left it. Seriously, parents. They didn’t even bother to lock it. Aren't they the safest people on earth?
As I stepped inside, I heard something faintly—a clatter, like a vase or a utensil hitting the floor. My parents weren’t the kind to argue or get into fights, so I couldn’t figure out what was going on. Moving closer, I began to make out their voices, low but tense. They were arguing.
I crept up the stairs, each step amplifying their words.