Waking up felt like dragging myself out of quicksand. I didn't want to get out of bed, but life waits for no one. After my usual morning routine of brushing my teeth and taking a shower, I walked out of my room, only to find my parents in the living room. Their expressions were off, and a feeling of unease settled over me.

"Dena, we need to talk," my mom began, her voice tense.

"Yes, come sit with us," my dad added, motioning to the couch.

"Good morning and hello to you both, too. But okay," I replied, wary of what was coming.

My mom sighed. "Good morning, and my apologies."

"I'm sorry, sweetie," my dad said, his tone soft.

"You don't get to call me that. What's going on?" I shot back, crossing my arms.

He took a deep breath. "I didn't want things to come to this, but your mom and I are getting a divorce."

She nodded. "Yes, we're getting a divorce."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "Couldn't it be sooner?"

"Dena..." my mom began, but I cut her off.

"No, ever since I was a little child, you guys have been traumatizing me with your cheating scandals. Now, when I'm in my last year of school, you decide to call it quits?"

"Please lower your tone," my dad said, trying to stay calm. "I'm sorry it took so long, and I'm sorry for everything that happened. We thought it was best to move forward and have a healthy relationship with you and your brother."

I was furious. "No, I'm not lowering my tone. You both are selfish. I went through things I shouldn't have at such an early age because you messed up your marriage. And now you want a healthy relationship with me and Mari? How exactly is that supposed to happen? Mari doesn't even know you because you're hardly ever home, leaving everything to me. And mom, you were hardly there for us even though you provided food."

"I'm sorry," my dad repeated.

My mom echoed, "I really am too."

"It's whatever," I snapped. "And you decided to tell me this on a school morning? That's amazing. But you know what, yeah, get your divorce. I don't care. But know this: you've lost a daughter."

I rushed out of the house, feeling a storm of sadness and annoyance. Why did my parents decide to do this to me now? I've gone through hell because they lack loyalty to each other. Deanesh used to be my confidant, but she's not here anymore. No one should have to endure what I'm experiencing. It seems like good people always have to suffer because of the bad ones. I didn't ask to be born into this drama, but here I am, dealing with it. The saying, "Every child deserves a parent, but not every parent deserves a child," makes so much sense now.

I got into my car and drove to a diner because I was starving, having missed breakfast due to the chaos at home. After eating, I headed straight to school. As I parked, I caught my reflection in the car window and screamed out of sheer frustration. Of course, some kids at school saw me and probably thought I was crazy, but they have no idea what I've been through.

I got out of the car and spotted the girls. We hugged tightly, and I felt a wave of relief wash over me. Xalia and Jaelee are finally over their flu, and having them back feels like a blessing. They have helped me in so many ways, and I couldn't be more grateful for their friendship.

We strutted into the school building, making a beeline for our classroom to catch up. As I spilled the tea to the girls, Travis walked in, heading straight for me. And surprise, surprise, who's trailing behind him like a lost puppy? Deanesh. Seriously, what's her problem? She gave me the dirtiest look, and I knew we were about to throw down.

"You're a two-faced freak, Dena," she spat.

"Oh, sweetie, you must be confused," I shot back. "That sounds like a perfect description of you."

"You think you've got bars?" she sneered.

"Oh, I know I do."

Travis tried to play peacemaker. "Girls, calm down."

"Shut up!" I snapped.

"Yeah, shut up, Travis," she echoed, her voice dripping with venom.

I smirked, "Looks like someone's mad her man took me to a party last night and left her out in the cold. And FYI, we had a blast."

"You're pathetic," she hissed. "Why don't you get your own boyfriend instead of stealing others? But then again, who would want to claim you?"

"Let's get one thing straight," I said, my voice ice cold. "You've never had a real relationship. No one wants to be seen with you because no one likes trash. You're messy. Meanwhile, I'm the one they chase. I don't need to steal anyone's man they come to me because I'm pretty. Face it, your boyfriend likes me."

"I hate you," she seethed, her eyes burning with rage.

"Right back at you," I replied with a smirk.

"See you in English Lit today. I hope you have those bars ready for the poem because I'm going to drag you."

"Bring it on, witch," I said, watching her stomp off with Travis in tow.

The girls and I burst into laughter. Who does she think she is? I can't wait for English Lit. It's going to be spicy, and I'll put her in her place. If she thinks what I said earlier were bars, she's in for a rude awakening.

The bell rang for first period, its piercing sound grating on my nerves. Seriously, is it trying to make us all deaf?

As we all shuffled into the classroom, I couldn't help but roll my eyes at the sight of Mrs. Murg, our English Lit teacher. Let's just say she's not exactly the life of the party-more like the cure for insomnia. But today, oh today, she's in for a wild ride, courtesy of yours truly and Deanesh.

While Mrs. Murg droned on about her plans for the day, I caught Deanesh's lips moving in silent fury behind me. Ignoring her, I turned my attention back to Mrs. Murg.

"Okay, students, please write a poem about anything that comes to mind. Be creative, be passionate. I know you guys can do it," she said in her monotone voice.

"Anything?" I asked, just to confirm.

"That's right, anything," she replied.

"Thanks," I muttered before turning back to my notebook.

Deanesh chimed in, "Can't wait to blow your minds, everyone."

"That's the spirit, dear. Let's have our minds blown away," Mrs. Murg responded, unaware of the storm brewing.

With free rein to write about anything, I knew exactly what I was going to write about, and it was going to be epic.

As the class got down to writing, I observed my classmates. Some looked lost, while others seemed deep in thought. But I was focused-I knew exactly what I was going to write.

Once everyone had finished, Mrs. Murg called us up, one by one, to read our poems aloud. The poems were decent, but I knew they could do better. And then it was Deanesh's turn.

I couldn't wait to see what she had cooked up.

Deanesh strutted to the front of the class, a smug grin plastered on her face as she prepared to deliver her poetic bombshell:

"Hey, everyone, hope you're ready for this."

Her voice dripped with venom as she unleashed her words:

"I knew a girl, thought she was my bestie, Now she's just a snake, nothing but messy. Used to laugh, now we throw shade, Friendship's dead, it's been played.

She's so fake, a drama queen, Tried to snatch my man, a total scene. What can we expect from losers? What can we expect from users?

Her words were sweet, but her heart's stone cold, She thought she was slick, so bold. Trust shattered, lies exposed, Her true colors now deposed.

Shared secrets and dreams in the dark, Now it's just ashes, not even a spark. She wore a mask, but I see clear, The real her, a nightmare.

She thought she'd win, play her game, But I'm still standing, she's just lame. What can we expect from fakes? What can we expect from snakes?

Used to be a friend, now a joke, Burned the bridge, went up in smoke. Lessons learned, I rise higher, In this game, I bring the fire."

I couldn't believe what had just come out of Deanesh's mouth. Every word she spoke felt like a stab in the back, a twisted version of reality aimed directly at me. As the applause echoed through the classroom and Mrs. Murg struggled to find her voice, I knew it was my turn to retaliate.

With my heart pounding, I approached the front of the class, ready to unleash my own fury:

"This poem is dedicated to you, Deanesh."

I took a deep breath and began:

"Oh, now you're lying, calling me fake, Labeling me a snake? Girl, you're a flake. What's hilarious is your story's skewed, Half-truths and drama, just like you.

I was never shady, until you turned tramp, Broke our bond, acted like a vamp. You stole my crush, what kind of witch does that? Then threw shade, hiding behind your rat mask.

Now you're out here, spreading lies, Twisting the facts, desperate cries. Sure, I had a plan, made my move, But guess what, your man chose me, he had nothing to prove.

You shattered our friendship, then played the saint, But honey, you're just a cheap paint. Playing innocent, acting pure, But your true self? A conniving lure.

So go ahead, keep flapping your gums, But in this fight, you're the one who's dumb. Calling me fake? Girl, check the mirror, In your web of lies, the truth's much clearer.

You tried to burn me, but I'm still here, Standing tall, making you disappear. In this war of words, I won't break, Remember, it's your loss, your mistake.

You thought you could drag me down, But look who's the real clown. In this game of thrones, I wear the crown, Watch me rise while you just drown.

You're nothing but a backstabbing viper, In this drama, you're the ultimate trier. So keep playing your petty game, In the end, everyone will know your shame."

The aftermath of our poetic showdown left the classroom in stunned silence. I could practically feel the tension crackling in the air as everyone processed what had just unfolded. While Deanesh's poem had been slick, it was built on a foundation of lies, and I couldn't let her false narrative stand unchallenged.

As I returned to my seat amidst the applause and nods of approval, I couldn't help but notice Mrs. Murg's strangely passive stance throughout the poetic duel. It was as if she relished the drama, allowing us to duke it out verbally without intervening. Well, if this was her idea of an English Lit class, then count me in for more.

Deanesh's face was a portrait of vexation, and I couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction knowing that I had stood my ground and defended myself against her accusations. The bridges of redemption were well and truly burned from my perspective.

With English Lit class drawing to a close, I found myself reluctant to return home, where the fallout from my parents' bombshell announcement still lingered. Instead, I proposed to the girls that we spend the rest of the day chilling together, and they readily agreed. It was a welcome distraction from the turmoil waiting for me at home.