Alyson ël - Saving Zoë

But he just goes, “Didn’t get it.”

“Well you’re getting it now. So hurry up and come get me,” I said, my patience running big-time thin.

And then, I still can’t believe this, he goes, “I can’t.”

“What do you mean you can’t? I thought you said you were home?” I was completely fuming and no longer trying to hide it. 7 mean, it’s like a hundred degrees out here and I’m melting,” I tell him.

But he just gives me a bunch of bull about how busy he is, which is total crap since it’s not like he has a job or chores or anything. And when I asked him just what exactly he was busy with he totally ignored me! He just went, “Sorry, I can’t get you, but I’ll definitely see you tonight though, okay?”

I felt like throwing my phone at the building I was so mad. But I didn’t. Instead, I just sucked it up and went straight to Carly’s. And by the time I got there I was still so pissed I ended up telling her the whole ugly story, which is something that I never, ever do. Mostly because once you tell your friends the bad stuff, that’s all they seem to remember.

But still, it felt so much better just to get it off my chest. Not to mention how she was totally sympathetic and only a little bit judgmental. And then she grabbed her laptop and tried to find me a new boyfriend on the Internet, which I took as a joke, even though I think she was partly serious.

Then we clicked over to my page so I could upload some more pictures we took of us pretending to French-kiss each other. Then we made fun of all the perverts who messaged me, telling me how I looked totally cool and laid back and asking me if I wanted to maybe hang out and chill — please.

But I still hooked up later with Marc, and even though

I was still pretty mad, I decided to just let it go because my vacation just started and I was determined to be happy and have fun. Plus, I hate to stay angry and carry grudges and stuff.

But still, every time I asked him where he was, he just changed the subject and moved on to something else.

I must have fallen asleep, because when I wake up my mom is standing over me and staring down at me. “Echo, are you feeling all right?” she asks, leaning toward me brushing her palm across my forehead, fever sweeping.

Physically, I’m fine. But emotionally, I’m a wreck. All I can think about is Marc, and the words he said right before driving me home. I mean, what exactly happened between my sister and him? And what was he hiding in his pocket that day? So far, I’ve yet to read a single thing in Zoë’s diary that could even begin to explain.

Not to mention how there’s no way I can face Abby and Jenay. Not after yesterday’s emotional tirade.

So I decide to do something I haven’t done since I was hell-bent on avoiding the presidential fitness test back in sixth grade — I fake sick.

I’m feeling kinda lousy,” I say, squinting at her as I conjure up images of hot furnaces, burning matches, the scorching desert heat, and the bowels of hell — method acting for raising my temperature.

“What’s the matter?” she asks, sliding onto the edge of my bed and readjusting the covers in a way that brings her hand dangerously close to the partially exposed diary.

I shift my body, flopping the covers over it, trying to make it appear as though I’m sickly and distressed, when

really I just need to keep that little blue book far out of her reach.

Tm nauseous,” I say, allowing myself a mental high five for the stroke of sudden genius. I mean, that’s one that can never be disproved, since it’s only felt by its host.

“Anything else?” she asks, her face growing worried and stained with concern.

Jeez, she wants more? What is this? “Um, yeah, I think I also feel a headache coming on, probably nothing major, but then again, it just started. I’m also a little weak, but that’s probably just the fatigue,” I mumble, rearranging my face to resemble someone who’s fighting burgeoning, yet intolerable pain.

“Sounds like the flu. There’s a bug going around,” she says, smoothing her skirt as she stands. “I’ll call the school and tell them you won’t be there today.”

“Do you think you can call Abby too? And tell her I won’t be meeting them on the corner?” I ask, even though I doubt they’re expecting me, not after my outburst.

“Of course,” my mother says. “But I’m worried about leaving you here all alone, feeling this way.”

“Oh, I’ll be all right. Really,” I say, hoping I haven’t gone too far, praying she won’t try to use this as an excuse to call in sick too.

Remember how I said I like having the house to myself? Well being home alone for the whole entire day is like Heaven. Seriously. And with my mom finally gone and fully convinced that I’m planning a day of bed rest (but that I won’t hesitate to call her if necessary), I grab the diary and take it downstairs, where I make myself a nice, healthy (well, kind of) breakfast.

I pour some frosted cereal into a bowl then add more sugar and nonfat (that’s the healthy part) milk, then I prop the diary before me and begin reading, trying to get the spoon from the bowl to my mouth without splattering the pages.

August 11

Today is the second official day of my vacation and I really thought it would be nice if I could spend it with my boyfriend but apparently he has other plans. Some big effin secret he refuses to tell me.

And to be honest, I’m really getting sick of it I mean, it’s not like I keep secrets from him, at least not about anything he actually needs to know about. But this is different, this is important. I can just tell.

But you know what? Screw him! I’m just gonna spend the whole day at Paula’s, laying by the pool, and not even think about him or his stupid secret. I’m just gonna pretend that he and his little mystery don’t even exist.

I know I probably sound like a brat, but it’s just that lately, every single passing day is starting to feel exactly the same as the one before it. Like my life is just one long, continuous rerun, with no new episodes scheduled. And it’s starting to make me feel really really restless, and more than a little anxious about the future. I mean, I know everything about my life probably seems pretty normal, and not all that bad compared to some, but the thing is, I never wanted to be normal and I certainly never wanted to be just like everyone else. I’ve always dreamed of something bigger and better and brighter

I’ve always wanted more.

Like, you know how when you watch those teen reality shows on MTV and stuff? And how everyone’s always out shopping, or going to parties, or fashion shows, or clubs, or charity events, or whatever, and then how after their turn on the series is over they all get magazine covers, movie deals, recording contracts, product endorsements, and regular spots in the tabloids? When just one year before they were just another kid with a normal life, in a much-better-than-normal town? Well, that kind of stuff makes it so crystal clear just how slow and boring it is here. Not to mention how I’m missing out on some mega opportunities, all because my parents are determined to live in this wasteland — this stupid, boring, totally fucked-up zip code.

I mean, it’s not like MTV would ever even consider coming here. So I think it’s obvious that if I really want to make something of myself (of my life!), then I’m really left with no choice but to get the hell out of this dead-end town. Seriously. And even though my parents are already starting with the big expectations and college talk (well, as college professors they’ve actually been at it for years, only now it’s more focused and serious), I have to find a way to tell them that their hopes and dreams have nothing in common with mine. And as far as college goes, well, it’s just not gonna happen for me.

Because, let’s face it, my grades are total sliders — good enough to pass class and not get yelled at too much, but nowhere near their Ivy League standards. And if they think I’m going local, then they’re completely loco. I’d never go to the same lame school where my mom and dad teach.

It’s like, let Echo go to Harvard, since she’s the brainy one who cares about all that intellectual, deep stuff. Let her be the one who makes them proud. I mean, maybe I’m just not smart like that. Maybe I’ve got other (better) things to do. And going to college just to please them will only end up putting me four years behind.

So lately I’ve been thinking about graduating early. I figure I can either beef up my credits (not exactly sure how, but I plan to find out), or take my GED and say an early adios. I mean, I’ve always wanted to be a model/actress — seriously, ever since I was a really little kid that’s all I’ve ever wanted to do. And I just read this article in one of my magazines about some 14-year-old girl who’s storming the European runways! Seriously — the chick is only 14! And I’m already 16 — and then next year I’ll be 17 — and it’s just gonna keep on going like that! Which means I really can’t afford to waste any more time messing around with my friends and waiting for my boyfriend to call.

I’ve got to start making a plan for escape. So I can ditch this town and go live my dream before it’s too late!

I mean, if Carly and Paula want to lay around the pool all day, making dates with perverts in exchange for free beer, before moving on to junior college and husbands and babies and a bin full of smelly diapers and never once being interviewed on Access Hollywood, then that’s fine. Whatever makes them happy.

But that kind of mundane life will never be enough for me. So with that in mind, I’ve decided to put my Web page to better use. I’ve decided to make it work forme. And no way am I mentioning it to Marc.

Because if he can have a secret then I can too.

August 12

Went shopping for back-to-school clothes with Mom and Echo, and when Mom refused to buy me the jeans I wanted, I just pulled out a wad of cash and bought them myself Hah! The power of employment! And seeing her face go all tight and twisted made it totally worth spending all of my hard-earned dough.

“You’re the one who wanted me to work,” I couldn’t help but remind her. “You’re the one who found me the high-paying job!”

I swear, I can’t wait ’til I’m a model making a gazillion trillion dollars, driving a Mercedes, living in an awesome penthouse apartment chock full of Jimmy Choos and Prada bags, and sending my parents on vacations in exotic locales — just to get them out of my hair! Let’s see who judges me then!

After shopping we went for lunch, and just as I stuck my fork in my salad Echo announced that she’s already completed her summer reading list and is getting a head start on the books she heard she’ll have to read during the school year.

Jeez! Sometimes I can’t believe that we’re actually sisters. Seriously. I mean, I love her, I really, really do, but sometimes it seems like she’s from another planet. Or maybe it’s me. Maybe I really am adopted like I used to dream about when I was younger. Because despite having my father’s eyes and my mother’s nose, there’s no way in hell I’m even remotely DNA connected to these people.

Oh yeah, I also got these really awesome shoes, a couple new sweaters, and a really cute fall coat with a fake fur collar (since I would never wear real fur, I love animals too much, and I plan to make sure that’s included in all of my modeling contracts).

But it’s not like I can actually wear any of it right now since it’s still so freaking hot out. But still, maybe I’ll just pack it all up and drag it over to Carly’s so she can take some photos of me in it. I need some new pictures for my page since I’m planning a complete overhaul. I’m totally gonna delete all the slutty, stupid, bullshit quotes, and any and all comments regarding drinking, sex, or partying. I’m even gonna switch the background wallpaper to something clean, and sleek, and modern. I’m gonna make it like my online portfolio. So it needs to look as professional as possible.

And even though I still haven’t told Marc anything about it, last night when we were all at Kevin’s, Paula totally let it slip.

“Omigod,” she said. “Remember when we put that picture on your site, the one where you had your top off and then all those guys started instant messaging you?”

I just sat there, totally bugging, and thinking how I was going to kill her the second I could get her alone.