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he second I get home, Mom is on at me about Justin. She wants to know if I've salvaged my reputation, if I've held my head high, if I've kept in my tears, and I tell her yes on all fronts. My mother is old school – so is this town – and nothing is more important than image.

I'm still so mad at Justin for showing up at the diner like that. Not only because he had the nerve to come and sit at our booth, but to then cause a scene in front of everyone? What was he thinking?

I pick at my salad, watching as Mom sits at the table, flicking through her magazine. People tell me we look alike, which makes Mom happy, but I hate the comparisons. While I know Mom was beautiful back in her hay day, now all I see is a woman trying desperately to cling to her youth.

Dad gets home shortly after, and it's not long before he and my mother start their usual screaming match. Dad is a wealthy businessman who I'm certain is having an affair, and Mom is a brat with too much time on her hands – neither are the parent of the year.

I can't take it anymore: the arguing, the shouting. It's like their anger seeps out of them and leaks into me, but whereas they have each other to take it out on, I have no way to release it. It means I hold it in until I'm just about ready to blow.

When Dad storms out, I retreat upstairs, running my fingers along the railing. Our house looks like it belongs in a catalog. Everything is white, and bare, and not a single family picture hangs on the walls. Mom had paintings flown in from Europe but can't hang up a photograph.

Everything else is just as unhomely. There are no trinkets or souvenirs, nothing to show that we were here, we lived – it's like living in a show home. Sitting in my room on my four-poster bed, I realize my room is the same. Nothing personal, nothing to show who I am or what I like, it's just another blank canvas.

At some point, the doorbell rings. When it doesn't seem like anyone is going to answer it, I rush downstairs and peer through the frosted glass. Justin stands on the other side, leaning against the doorframe with that lazy grin on his face.

I straighten up and throw open the door. "Can I help you?"

"You look surprised," he says, stepping past me into the foyer. "I take it that means your mom hasn't told you she invited me over."

I suck in a breath and wait for the punchline, but he stares at me expectantly. Without a word, I storm down the hallway and into the yoga room, where Mom is twisted into the Downward Dog.

"Please tell me Justin was lying when he told me you invited him over."

She glances over while stretching her neck. "Oh, Daddy thought it might be a good idea for you two to sit down and work this thing out. You were always so good together, Liss."

For a second, I am so shocked that I don't say a word. Not even two hours ago she was asking me if I held my head high, and now she's inviting Justin over?

"Mom," I say, watching her curl into another position. "Have you forgotten he cheated on me?"

Mom sighs and says, "No, I haven't, and he was wrong to do that to you, Alyssa, but his father is about to make a very important business deal with Daddy. We think it's best for the family if you and Justin make peace while these negotiations are going on."

The penny drops. My mother doesn't care if Justin cheated on me, she just wants to make sure nothing harms Dad's precious deal.

I'm about to lose it. Mom must sense it, too, because she sighs again and says, "Look, we didn't want to tell you this, but Daddy's business is haemorrhaging money, and if we don't do something soon, we'll be broke. I don't mean, business class instead of first class, kind of broke, either. I mean really broke. We'll have to sell the house and move."

"Move?" The thought seems unfathomable. I've lived in The Palisades my entire life, and so have my parents. How could we move? And moving would mean moving schools, it would mean leaving all of my friends behind, it would be losing everything we have.

"This deal could make Daddy a lot of money," Mom says, and that's when I notice it for the first time: her desperation. "All we are asking is for you to put this family first. In a few weeks, when the deal is done, you can kick Justin to the curb. God knows he deserves it."

I clench my jaw and, without another word, head back into the living room. Justin is stretched out on the sofa with his shoes off and the remote in his hand. I take a seat next to him, placing my palms on my knees. Last week, I'd been crazy about him. Now the thought of being in the same room as him is making me feel sick. But it's nothing compared to how it would feel to see my family lose everything.

Justin looks up at me, an eyebrow quirked. "Aren't you happy to see me? Your mom told me you wanted to talk about getting back together."

I take a slight breath, trying not to recoil from him. "I'm willing to work on things," I say carefully, but inside, all I am thinking is A few more weeks. Just a few more weeks.

Justin grins and pulls me into a hug, but I don't hug him back. "I've missed you, Liss," he says, kissing my cheek.

I'm forced to close my eyes. "Missed you, too."

We spend the next hour or so watching a movie, and all the while my mind turns with this new information. I think and think of other ways to help, but no good solutions come to mind.

When he's finally gone, I head up to my bedroom and try to stop myself from screaming. It feels like the walls are closing in on me, and I'm stuck between a hard place and a rock. What will people at school think when they learn I've taken him back? They'll think I'm weak and pathetic, but what's the alternative? Losing our house? My father losing his business?

I glance at my wall, which is bare except for the framed acceptance letter I got from Yale. A few months ago, I'd been thrilled by the prospect of going to college, but if Dad loses this deal, there's no way we'd be able to afford it.

My future will be over.

I grab my laptop and lie back in bed, searching the internet. At first, I stick to shopping to make myself feel better, and it reminds me of what Tiana said: Alyssa is the last person you'd find in a gym.

Anger twists in my stomach again. I try to recall what that gym had been called, but I struggle to remember. Gym something, Gym Co. I type it into Google and it comes up as GymCon. With a deep breath, I click on the website. It's therapeutic, Maddie had said. God knows I need some therapy.

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