You know how it would sound. Clairvoyance? Telepathy? Psychic powers?
You wouldn't believe it yourself if you hadn't lived through it all. You're not going to even try to make your parents understand.
As you push your way through the creaking screen door into the kitchen, your mom looks up from the pile of bills that she's sorting through. "Oh, good, you're home," she says, with a brief uncomfortable smile. "Leftovers in the fridge if you're hungry." Then she dives back into her work before either of you can say something that might set off an argument. Which pretty much means before you can say anything, because everything sets off arguments these days.
You leave Mom to deal with the bills and head up the narrow stairs to your bedroom. It's not a very big room, and every inch of wall space is covered with Red Sox pennants and Kingsport banners, but it's all yours.
Now that you've got the rest of the evening to yourself, what do you do?