My world is, quite literally, falling apart.

Who could have guessed that my family would end up part of a national statistic? I mean, maybe I’ve always taken it for granted, but I thought we were a happy family. Sure, Mum and Dad get mad at each other now and then, but they always seem to make friends pretty quickly and they love doing things together. At the end of each day, the thing they like best is sitting at our kitchen table and telling each other about everything they’ve been up to and making plans for the next weekend or school holiday.

I just don’t understand how it could have got so bad without me realizing.

I’m walking to school with Alice and I’ve decided to tell her about it – but not before swearing her to secrecy. She’s sympathetic, but doesn’t seem to understand how massive this is for me.

‘It’s not all bad, you know. My dad spends far more time with me now than he used to when he lived with us. And he actually tries to be nice to me now – I guess he’s worried I’ll refuse to see him or something!’ she laughs, giving my arm a squeeze.

‘But my dad is nice to me already, and I see loads of him,’ I moan. I’m thinking that if she starts talking about two sets of Christmas and birthday presents that I might actually scream.

‘And I know everyone says it – but it’s true – I do get more presents at Christmas and they’re actually things that I want!’ says Alice.

I grit my teeth and remind myself that I need Alice right now, and that yelling at her is not going to help. It’s not her fault that my stupid parents can’t be happy with what they’ve got and seem to feel the need to ruin my life. So selfish.

‘Although it does seem a bit weird that they’ve not told you yet,’ Alice comments.

‘I know! So typical of my family – don’t tell Liv anything. Probably think I’ll make a big fuss and upset everyone!’

‘Well, won’t you?’ grins Alice as we round the corner to the school gates.

It’s early spring, and the daffodils are everywhere, their yellow bonnet heads gently swaying in the early morning breeze. I like daffodils, but my favourite flowers are dandelions – I’ve got loads of photos that I’ve taken of them, some when they’ve got their flowers and others with a head full of seeds. Mum always laughs at me and says that they’re weeds and nobody chooses dandelions as their favourite – but I like their determination, growing everywhere, even in among all the rubbish. They’re a bit like finding a piece of treasure in an unlikely place and they always make me feel happy.

Not any more, though, I think as I stomp past a clump growing out from behind the bin by the bus stop. Now they’ll remind me of the spring I discovered that my parents wanted to destroy my family. Thanks a lot, Mum and Dad. We might not be the perfect family but I always thought we were OK. Now they’re going to rip everything apart before I’ve had a chance to do half the things I wanted to do. I can kiss my life’s dream of going to Disneyland goodbye, that’s for sure. Once they start splitting everything up and paying for two homes instead of one, there’ll be no money for holidays. I’ve seen it on TV – I know all about it.

‘Yes, I will make a fuss, and so will Isaac when they actually have the courage to tell him. Somebody has to fight for this family and it looks like it’ll have to be me.’ I link arms with Alice and march into school, half hoping that Moronic Louise will have the sense to stay away from me today, and half hoping that she gives me a reason to deal with her, once and for all.

My day passes in the usual, boring blur that is school. I must be giving out some serious ‘keep away’ vibes because Moronic Louise doesn’t come anywhere near me. In fact, I hardly talk to anyone all day. I can’t be bothered to look for Alice at lunchtime – instead I creep into the library and find a chair in the corner where nobody can see me unless they come looking. I sneak bites from my sandwich when I can hear that the librarian is busy on the other side of the room, and sink into the world of my book. It’s better than my real world.

Now I’m home and the only thing that I want to do is slump in front of the television. On my own. Without any annoying brothers doing their absolute best to ruin my peace.

No chance in this house, though. Isaac has slammed through the door, made a ton of noise in the kitchen getting a snack and is now standing in front of me, blocking my view of the TV and munching a piece of toast, very loudly.

I try ignoring him. He just carries on, standing and munching. So I take it to the next level and give him my best ‘death stare’. Lesser mortals have been known to pass out with terror when subjected to this look – but not Isaac. He doesn’t even shake.

‘Isaac, move,’ I tell him.

‘Have you seen my Pokemon cards?’ he says.

‘No.’ My voice is cold and sharp – I want to be left alone, just for a few minutes.

‘They’re missing,’ Isaac says.

‘Not interested. Move.’

‘I can’t find them.’

‘Talk to the hand, Isaac.’

Isaac looks at me for a moment and I think he’s finally got the message. He frowns and then holds his hand up in the air in front of him.

‘Hand – where are my Pokemon cards?’ he asks it.

I explode. He has finally pushed my last button and I’ve had enough.

‘You are not stupid, Isaac! Take the hint! I don’t want to talk to you, OK? Go away.’

I sink back into the sofa, already regretting my outburst, but wishing with every bit of me that, just for once, Isaac could think about someone other than himself.

Isaac takes a last bite of his toast, crumbs dropping on to the carpet as he wipes his hands together, careful to make sure that no toast remains on his fingers.

‘And I don’t want to talk to you, Liv. I just want to know where my Pokemon cards are.’ He is looking at a spot on the wall above my head and I know that I’ve confused him. That he has no idea what he’s done wrong. I shake my head to let him know that I can’t help him and he walks away. I follow him with my eyes and see Mum, leaning in the doorway to the kitchen. She smiles at Isaac as he goes past and then looks at me.

‘Bad day?’ she asks.

‘You have no idea,’ I mutter. I don’t particularly want to talk to her either, not when she’s planning on tearing our family apart.

‘Tell me about it?’ she says, but I shake my head at her too. She turns to leave.

‘It wasn’t my fault,’ I blurt out, and she stops and turns back to me, eyebrows raised in a question. ‘Just now, with Isaac – it wasn’t my fault. Anyone else would have known to leave me alone. It’s not a crime to need a bit of space now and again.’

‘But Isaac isn’t “anyone else”, is he?’ says Mum. ‘He doesn’t understand what you want unless you tell him, Liv. You know that.’

‘Great,’ I say, scowling. ‘So we just have to put up with it, do we, for the rest of our lives? We just accept that Isaac needs everything spelling out for him – even how the rest of us are feeling?’

‘Particularly how the rest of us are feeling,’ says Mum. ‘Think how much we communicate using our faces and our bodies, Liv. The minute I walked in here I could tell that you were cross, and that something’s bothering you. You didn’t have to tell me in words – it was clear from the way you were frowning and crossing your arms. It was obvious from the way your lips were squeezed together. But Isaac can’t read that language. It’s like asking you to talk to someone who only speaks Bulgarian. It’d be really hard.’

I sit up a bit straighter, thinking about what Mum is saying.

‘I get all that, Mum – really I do. But can’t he learn to “read” how we’re feeling? He’s learnt to do a whole heap of other stuff, so why can’t he just learn to look at people’s faces and figure out how they’re feeling.’

Mum smiles at me. ‘He can, but he needs some help. Don’t you remember, we had those drawings of faces that we used to show him? He was great at remembering what the faces were supposed to mean – he just found it a bit trickier to relate that to real, live people. Dad and I have been meaning to try something else, but there’s been a lot of other stuff happening lately and we haven’t got round to it. I will, I promise, Liv. But in the meantime, try to be patient with him. We’re asking a lot of him and it isn’t going to happen overnight.’

I stand up. I don’t want this conversation carrying on, not if she’s going to start talking about the ‘other stuff’ that’s been going on around here. Anyway, I’ve just had a brilliant idea for helping Isaac and I can get started on it straight away.

‘Don’t worry,’ I tell Mum. ‘I can help him. I reckon I’ve got a great plan.’

Mum looks at me and for a second I think she’s about to burst into tears. Then she takes a few steps towards me and pulls me into a hug.

‘Thank you, Liv,’ she whispers. ‘Isaac is really going to need you on his team. I’m so proud of you, the way you look out for him.’

‘He’s my brother,’ I say, pulling away from her. ‘That’s what families do, isn’t it – look out for each other?’

I run up the stairs, taking them two at a time, and dash into my room. My camera is on my desk and I grab it. It’s old and not great but it’ll do the job. I head across the hall to Isaac’s room. His door is half open so I give a quick knock and stick my head round. Isaac is sitting cross-legged on his bed, Pokemon cards spread out all around him. He is smiling.

‘You found them then?’ I say.

He looks up at me and grins, and I fire off a quick shot, the flash of the camera making him blink.

‘What was that?’ he asks.

‘That was “happy”,’ I tell him, and then I walk downstairs with the hope of seeing Mum or Dad demonstrating an emotion that I can capture on camera.