But now, with the way it’s all moving forward, I just know deep down inside that it’s totally meant to be.

So anyway, when Marc saw me at my locker with my overstuffed bag, he just looked at me, and said, “What’s that?”

Well, at first I tried to lie and tell him I was getting a bunch of clothes taken in since I’d lost all that weight But when it was clear he wasn’t buying it, I told him I was auditioning for a play, and that I was too freaked out, nervous, and superstitious to say anything more about it.

“Just a community theater thing, no biggie. I’m just doing it for the experience,” I said.

“Can I come?” he asked.

But I told him no. Told him that he’d make me too nervous, and that I didn’t even want him to drive me. I’d just planned to take the bus, which meant I needed to leave right away, since it’d take me a whole lot longer to get there like that (which isn’t even a full lie, because I had planned to take the bus to the photo shoot).

So he just looked at me and said, “How ’bout I drive you and pick you up after?”

And I said, “No way, Jose. In fact, I don’t even want to talk about it afterward, unless of course they cast me, then I’ll bore you to death with all the details.”

So he goes, “Well then how ’bout this — we go to the park, hang for a while, and then you take my car and come pick me up when you’re done?”

“But I don’t know how long it will take! I mean, you’re just gonna sit there that whole time?” I asked, part of me really wanting the car since it would make everything so much easier, but the other part not wanting to be responsible for picking him up. I mean, what if it runs late? But still, having the car will really help, so I agreed.

Okay, so I just wrote all that in the parking lot of the Circle K, where he just went in to get us some snacks and waters and cigarettes and bread for our pet ducks. And now he’s back so—

“Thank you darling,” I say, wanting a ciggie big-time but knowing I can’t write and open the pack at the same time. But really, what’s more important, smoking or recording all the little mundane things that happen to me while I’m still anonymous?

So he goes, “What are you writing about that’s making you so happy?”

Then he acts like he’s trying to peek over my shoulder so I pull it away and say, “You have no idea.”

So we’re at the park now, and I’m feeding the ducks while Marc starts on his homework and then he looks at me and goes, “So what play are you trying out for?”

And since I’m more into movies, and don’t really know any plays, I go, “Phantom of the Opera.” And believe me, the second it’s out, I regret it

So he looks at me and goes, “I didn’t know you could sing opera.” Then he gives me this suspicious squinty kind of look.

But I think I pulled it off, cuz I just said, “I don’t, silly. It’s for a nonsinging part. A really small part, in fact, and it’s really no big deal. I just think it will be good experience to go to an audition and see what it’s like to be onstage with everyone watching you and stuff.” And since it seems like he might actually believe that I add, “But what about you? Are you really just gonna sit here and wait?”

And he smiles and goes, “Yup.”

And I go, “But what if you get bored, or need to go home or something?”

But he just shakes his head and says, “No worries, I’ll handle it. Just don’t forget to come back for me.” Then he jangles his car keys as he starts to hand them over.

And I go, “Please, I could never forget you,” then I lean in and kiss him, and reach for the keys.

But then he goes, “Wait, I want something in return.”

I just looked at him, thinking I should’ve known better, ’cause there’s always a catch. “What?” I ask.

“Your diary,” he says. “Leave me your diary just to make sure.”

“Make sure of what?”

“To make sure you come back to me. You know, like collateral?” He smiles.

“You’re not gonna read it, are you?” I ask, still wanting those keys but not liking the trade, and wondering if I can trust him to really not read it.

But he just gives me a serious look, and says, “Only if you don’t come back.” Then he leans in and kisses me, and says, “And when you return, I have a major surprise for you. Something you’re gonna love, that will also explain everything, everything you’ve been wondering about where I was those times when you couldn’t reach me. I just want us to rewind, to get back to where we were. I really love you, Zoë.”

So I say, “And I really love you, Marc.”

Then he smiles and says, “Are you ever going to stop writing so I can kiss you and tell you good-bye?”

And I smile and say, “Yes!”

I turn the page but that’s it. And every page that follows is as blank as the one before it, nothing but blue lines on white background, Zoë’s loopy handwriting coming to its final rest.

I close my eyes and lean back against the cushions, tears pouring down my cheeks, thinking how strange it is that her diary ended on “Yes!” When her life probably ended on “No!”

I sit there, holding her book in my lap, unwilling to look at it, unable to let go.

And when my cell phone rings, I hit speaker wiping my eyes as Teresa says, “Echo, I’m on my way over. We really need to talk.”

Thirty-three

Seconds later when the doorbell rings, I assume Teresa was a lot closer than I’d thought. But when I peek through the glass and see Abby, my stomach drops so fast and hard it takes me a moment to realize that she’s smiling as though yesterday never happened.

“Jeez, you really are sick. You look awful,” she says, giving me a concerned once-over while maintaining a safe distance from any potential infectious disease.

“Relax, I’m fine,” I tell her. “Seriously, it’s safe to come in.”

She gives me a hesitant look then steps inside, following me into the den, where she flops down on my dad’s favorite chair, and goes, “So, what gives?”

But I just shake my head and sit on the couch, pulling the afghan around me, hugging my knees tight to my chest. “I’ve been going through some stuff,” I finally say, knowing I owe her much more than that, but feeling unsure just how far I should go.

“I know.” She nods.

“You know?” I ask, looking at her and wondering just how much she knows.

“Well, for starters, you’ve been acting pretty freaky since the first day of school. And then all that stuff yesterday, well, that was pretty much the pinnacle of your freakiness.”

“Does Jenay hate me?” I ask.

She laughs. “Jenay’s incapable of hate. She’s all about love, pep rallies, and cheerleading tryouts.”

“Seriously?”

“’Fraid so.” Abby nods. Tryouts are months away, but she’s already talking about it. She wants to be able to cheer for Chess at all of his football games.”

“Can’t she do that from the stands?”

“Not like a professional.” She smiles.

“So, do you hate me?” I ask, holding my breath.

“Honestly? I did. But then I got over it.” She shrugs. “Because I know what you’re going through. Okay, backtrack. Maybe I don’t know exactly what you’re going through. But sometimes I try to imagine it, you know? Like when Aaron’s driving me nuts and I’m fantasizing about totally throttling him. Well, sometimes I make myself stop and imagine how I’d feel if he was no longer around for me to hate. And the truth is, as much as he annoys me, I know it would be a whole lot worse without him. And then that makes me think how bad it must suck for you to have to deal with all that, not to mention the way people stare and the things they say. And I don’t mean like I pity you,” she says quickly, knowing full well just how much I hate to be pitied. “It’s just, I don’t know, I guess I just want you to know that I care, and that I’m here, and that no matter how hard you try, you can’t push me away. Or maybe you can, but you’re gonna have to try a lot harder than that.” She smiles, but her bottom lip is trembling. And seeing that makes me feel unbelievably sad, especially when I realize how willing I was to discard her.

“So where is Jenay?” I ask, anxious to change the subject.

“Pep club,” she says, rolling her eyes. “But one more thing, Echo, and then I promise to let it go. I just want you to know that you can totally confide in me if you need to. Seriously, you can tell me anything you want and I promise not to judge or ever repeat a single word of it to anyone, including Jenay. Scout’s honor.” She holds up her hand, palm facing forward, even though we were never Scouts.

And when I look at her, I’m tempted, thinking how nice it would be to get some of this burden off my chest, not to have to bear all this weight on my own. But when I start to speak, 1 realize there’s still a few missing links, and I know I should wait ’til I’ve gathered all the pieces.

So instead, I just shrug. “Rain check?” I ask, smiling as she nods.

When the doorbell rings a few minutes later, this time it really is Teresa. And when she comes in the den and sees Abby still sitting in the chair she gives me a quick, worried look.

“I should probably go,” Abby says, rising from her seat in a rare display of submission.

I glance at Terersa, wondering if she’ll insist on it, but she just shrugs and sits on the floor.

“Oh my God.” She drops her head in her hands and rubs her eyes with the pads of her fingers. “I’ve been so fucking stupid and I owe you the hugest apology,” she says, finally looking up at me, her eyes red and worried.

I glance at Abby, who’s clearly wondering what this is about, then I gaze back at Teresa when she says, “I need to talk to you about Jason.”

“Who’s Jason?” Abby asks, but when I look at her and shake my head, she goes quiet and leans back in her chair.

“Jason is a creep,” Teresa says, gazing at Abby and shaking her head. “A total freaking psychotic creep. Echo tried to warn me, but I was too stupid to listen. I thought he was some sexy, exciting, bad boy. Turns out he’s just bad.”

“Are you okay? I mean, did he hurt you?” I ask, remembering what happened to Zoë and Carly, and hoping that didn’t happen to her.

But she just shakes her head and closes her eyes, and when I glance over at Abby I can tell she’s confused. “Well, you know how normally we just meet up at the park and hang out and stuff? Like we did that one day? And how every now and then he’d stop by my house and we’d party when my parents weren’t home? Well, we did fool around, but only a few times, nothing major, basically because asshole Tom was usually there.”

I glance at Abby when she starts to say, “Who’s asshole To—” But then she looks at me and shakes her head, motioning for Teresa to continue.

“So yesterday, I was on my way home from school when he drove up and offered me a ride. And since no one was around to see me, I opened the door and got in.”

“Did you go to his place?” I ask, remembering Zoë and how he used the same M.O. on her.

She rolls her eyes and nods. “Jeez, you should see it, I mean, it’s a total freaking dump. I mean a filthy, cheap, disgusting mess.”

And just as I start to say, “I know,” I remember how I do know, and not wanting to share that with them, I don’t say anything.

“So he offers me a beer, and like the idiot I am, I’m all excited that we’re finally gonna hook up, since we’re all alone and stuff. So, thinking I should go freshen up a little first, I head for his bathroom as he heads for the fridge, and then I notice how the bathroom door is like right across from his bedroom, and I’m really tempted to open the door and take a look, but I’m also afraid of getting caught. So instead I just go inside and do my thing and right as I come out, I see him sitting on the couch with his index finger all shoved down the neck of my beer bottle. And I think, what the heck is he doing? And I start to feel all creeped out, wondering if he’s trying to poison me or drug me or something. So then 1 get all panicked, wondering what I should do. But then I decide to just act all smiley and calm until I can eventually find a way out of there.” Then she stops and looks at Abby and goes, “Do you think you can get me some water?”

And before I can even say anything, Abby is already up and heading for the kitchen. Teresa turns to me and whispers, “So anyway, I just try to act all normal, tapping my bottle against his, taking fake sips, and then right when I’m about to make an excuse to get out of there, his beeper goes off. So he goes, I have to run out for a sec, so sit tight and don’t go snooping around.’ And when he gives me this threatening look, I just smile and nod and take another fake sip, and then like the second he leaves I’m about to bail, but then I wonder if maybe I’m overreacting. I mean, maybe he was just fishing a bug out of my beer, which is still pretty bad, though it’s not the same as drugging someone, right?”