Saving Zoë

Thirty

Since I’m already up, I go into my room and grab my cell, scrolling through the missed calls and finding one from Marc and one from Teresa, but nothing from Abby or Jenay, which makes me feel even worse than I thought it would. Then I put on some old, thick socks, ’cause I can’t stand it when my feet get cold, and bring my phone back to the den, where Zoë’s diary is waiting.

“What do you mean you read my file?” His jaw was all clenched and his eyes blazed with so much anger he was actually starting to scare me.

And with everything out there in the big wide open, I knew it was time to explain. “Listen,” I said. “Promise you won’t get mad and think that I’m checking up on you or spying on you or something, okay? But the truth is you’ve been acting really weird lately, lying to me, keeping secrets, and don’t even try to deny it ’cause we both know it’s true. And then when I saw you going into the office that day, the same day you said you were home, well, it made me really suspicious.”

The second I gazed up at him I knew it wasn’t going so well. So I started talking even faster, just hoping to get through it before something really bad happened. “And then Carly said we should go to the office and get to the bottom of it, though it’s not like I’m blaming Carly or anything, I mean, obviously, the choice was all mine. So, well anyway, we went and let ourselves in, and when I saw Dr. Kenner was there we almost fled, but when he saw me he was all, ‘Oh Zoë, excellent. My assistant just called out sick for tomorrow, so would you mind filling in? I know you’re on vacation, but I’ll pay you double to just answer the phone and let people in, and it’s only for half the day since my wife can take over in the afternoon, blah blah blah, what do you say?’ So I said yes. But then as it turned out I only had to stay for like forty-five minutes, ’cause his wife got there way early, though it was still long enough forme to read the first few pages of your file.”

I stopped, looked up at him, and held my breath.

“So you read my file,” he said, more like a fact than a question, and his lips were all pressed together and his eyes looked grim. “Or excuse me, only part of my file. Only the first few pages,” he added, his voice sounding sarcastic and mad.

And it’s not like I didn’t already feel pretty horrible about doing that, but hearing him say it out loud made me feel even worse.

“I can’t believe this shit,” he said. “I can’t believe you!” Then he threw his napkin down, pushed his seat away, and acted like he was about to storm out or something.

“What’re you doing?” I whispered, glancing around frantically, just as the waitress appeared with our meals.

“I’m outta here,” he said, as she just stood there, gaping at us, and holding our plates, probably thinking, And a BIG happy anniversary to you too!

“You can just take that away and bring me the check,” Marc said, speaking to her, even though his eyes were fixed on mine.

I watched the waitress leave, then looked at him and said, Tine. Just let me call my dad then. I’m sure he’ll be willing to come pick me up, especially when I explain to him why.” My face felt all hot as my eyes clogged with tears, and I was hoping that if nothing else, that would make him feel bad.

Well it must’ve worked cuz he just sighed and said, “Leave your parents out of this. You know I’ll take you home.” Then he shook his head and flipped through the bills in his wallet, throwing down more than enough to cover our appetizers, Cokes, and uneaten meals.

Then we left the restaurant and got into the car, neither one of us speaking the entire way home. And with each passing street, I felt sicker and sicker, knowing full well that I’d gone way too far, but still hoping for some kind of answer.

But when he got to my house he just hit the brakes.

And as I opened the door I looked at him and said, 7 just don’t understand why you feel like you can’t trust me enough to confide in me.”

But he just shook his head and said, 7 think you just proved it.”

Well, I guess the fact that we haven’t talked for days means we either broke up or that we’re on a break, which,

no matter how you slice it, is basically the same damn thing. And while part of me is totally bummed by the fact that he ditched me, the other part, the smarter part, knows it’s completely my fault

But still, with my vacation ending, summer ending, and only one final week left at my job, I guess maybe it’s pretty much the end of a lot of things, including us. Even though I really hope that’s not true.

But for now I’m just gonna try to work as much as I can, save as much as I can, try not to dwell on the whole mess with Marc, and finally get around to contacting that photographer guy so I can get his rates and see just how much my big lifelong dream is gonna cost me. But the one good thing is that with Marc out of the picture, all of those things just became that much easier.

I just wish I didn’t miss him so much.

Okay, so I haven’t written in awhile because a lot has been happening, and I’ve been way too busy to write it all down. For starters, my job recently ended, with a handshake, a glowing report for my parents, a good reference for my resume (like anyone in Hollywood is going to care), and a nice, fat bonus check — yay me!

And then school started, which, surprisingly, isn’t nearly as bad as it sounds, except for the fact that I keep running into Marc practically everywhere I go, and since he still won’t talk to me, it can get kind of awkward.

Also, I e-mailed that photographer guy and he got right back to me, and the good news is he’s way more affordable than I thought he would be. And just as I was about to schedule an appt for next week, Carly goes, “Um, maybe you want to hold off for a while, you know, so you can work out a little first”

Which made me go, “Excuse me, are you calling me fat?”

But she just shook her head and said, “No, of course not! But what I am saying is that skinny means different things in different cities. Like thin in New York and LA is probably way totally different than thin here. You know, like a Saks Fifth Avenue versus Wal-Mart kind of thing.”

And the more I thought about it, the more I realized she was probably right. So I decided to give myself ten to twelve days of laying off the chips and Cokes and pot smoking (since pot smoking makes me crave chips and Cokes), and start actually participating in PE (as opposed to my usual avoidance of all things physical), and start swimming laps in Carly’s pool (as opposed to lazing around and eating chips and drinking Coke and smoking pot).

I’m also trying to lose a little bit of my tan. Not all of it mind you, but definitely some of it Because as Carly pointed out, the models in Vogue are always way skinny and way pasty, yet in Hollywood the celebs are all way skinny (not counting the implants) and way tan. And since I’m basically interested in doing either if not both, I figure it’s probably better if I strive for somewhere in between.

Anyway, I’m really excited about this upcoming shoot, and have even been playing around with some possible outfits and hairstyles so I can show different looks and different sides to my personality and stuff. But then Carly said I should strive for pretty, unadorned, and natural, like Kate Moss in the early days. She says they mostly want chameleons who can easily change from season to season, and even though I have no idea how she actually knows all this stuff, since it’s not like she cares about being a model or a movie star, I still gotta admit it makes perfect sense.

And even though I kind of wish I could share all this with Marc, I know it’s probably all for the best. I mean, especially since it’s not even an option anymore. Especially now that I keep seeing him hanging with that Shauna chick. And I don’t mean hanging like they’re all casual and stuff, because, please, it’s not like I’m some psychotic jealous person. It’s more the way that they’re hanging, they way they act when they’re talking. Like him leaning toward her, and her all happy and smiling and stuff. Like there’s no one else around. Like they’re in their own little world.

Just like we used to be.

The first time I saw them together I just stood there gaping, my mouth hanging open, my chin on my knees. And when she reached out and touched him, placing her hand right there on his shoulder, I was consumed with this indescribable, jealous, flood of rage. But eventually it mostly passed.

I mean, clearly we’re not together anymore, no longer a couple. And it’s time I get used to it.

Good news! Carly has finally stopped with all those crazy Web page hookups and trolling for alcohol with all those perverted geezers she was meeting on the Internet, and I could not be more relieved. Though it’s not like she stopped because she figured out that what she was doing was dangerous, stupid, and completely freaking lame.

Nope, it was mainly because she met someone better. Someone who she thinks is hot, sexy, and a total keeper. Someone who rarely makes her pay, and when he does it’s at a deeply discounted rate. He also happens to live in our town, even graduated from our high school. Though to be honest, I’m really not so sure that he actually graduated, because he doesn’t seem like the type to heed authority or wear a cap and gown, so he might’ve just stopped going.

Anyway, his name is Jason — don’t know his last — and I guess if you were standing really far away, with no binoculars, and were also very drunk, you might think that he’s hot. Or at least that’s what I thought the first time I met him. He’s definitely kind of snakelike with that slicked-back hair, lean muscled body that he crams into these fitted faded jeans, black leather jacket, and motorcycle boots he always wears. But I guess he’s kind of starting to grow on me too, since there’s just something about him, something kind of alluring and dangerous and sleazy but cool. Which I know probably sounds pretty weird and all, but I don’t know how else to explain it. Not to mention how he pretty much knows everyone in this town, or at least all of the people who party, and so far he’s been more than willing to hook

Carly up with whatever it is that she wants.

Anyway, the other night Carly and I ended up over there, just hanging out and talking with a whole group of people, and pretty much everyone was drinking but me (since I don’t need the extra calories, not to mention the puffiness before the big shoot), and I was just kicking back and sipping from my water bottle, when he said, “Here, try some of these, they’ll help you lose weight”

And I immediately looked at Carly, feeling all freaked and upset that she told him about my plans, because I really don’t need a whole bunch of people to know about it before it’s even had a chance to happen. But she just shrugged and shook her head, and motioned to me to go ahead and take ’em.

So then I looked at him, but he just laughed and said, “Pretty girl like you, avoiding the appetizers and beer and settling for just water, I figure you’re just trying to stay pretty.”

Okay, trying to pretend that smashed-up pieces of BBQ potato chips are actually appetizers is totally pushing it. But still, I took the bottle from him, and turned it around so I could squint at the back. Because let’s face it, it’s no secret that this guy is like our hometown version of Scarface, so the last thing I need is to get all hooked on crystal meth or something equally nasty that will make me skinny but leave me with no teeth.

But then he showed me where it says “All natural.” And so with everyone watching and egging me on, I popped one in my mouth and chased it down with some water. And for the rest of the night everyone kept joking around and pretending that I was Alice through the Looking Glass, or Wonderland, or whatever (I mean, I really don’t know the difference) and that I was getting smaller and smaller, ’til they could no longer see me.

And then, when it finally came time to leave, Jason kissed me on the cheek, his lips moving against my skin as he said, “You can thank me when you’re posing on the cover of Maxim.”

And even though Maxim isn’t my number one goal (because that would be Vogue) it was still kind of cool to know that he thinks I have the potential. But I just smiled, and then the second I heard the door close behind us I rubbed my fingers over my cheek, removing the trace of his lips and wiping it onto my jeans.

So the last few days we’ve been hanging with Jason more and more after school, mostly because Carly is becoming a total burnout and is now totally hooked on some shit he sells her for cheap. And the only reason I even go along is so she doesn’t go by herself, because she’s seriously starting to worry me lately.

And then today, when I was walking home from school (by myself because Carly got detention for sneaking off campus and getting caught), he just happened to drive up and offer me a ride.

And I was just about to say no, ’cause I wasn’t sure it was such a great idea to be in his truck alone with him,

when I realized how totally stupid that was since I’ve been hanging with him like practically every day. and it’s not like he’s ever tried anything before. In fact, he’s always been really super sweet. But even so, I was still about to say no, when I glanced over just in time to see Marc getting into his car and Shauna climbing in beside him.

So then I turned and looked at Jason, and said, “A ride would be great thanks!”

And as I climbed up in his truck and closed the door, I glanced out the window just in time to see Marc staring at me. I mean serious, outright gaping. Just like I did when I first saw them. Then the light turned green, and Jason totally punched it, and in a matter of seconds they were left in our dust

Jason picked me up from school again today, just like yesterday. Only this time he waited right there in the parking lot, instead of out by the corner like usual.

“Carly still on detention?” he asked.

And I just nodded and climbed in beside him.

At first he acted like he was going to drive me straight home, but then we somehow ended up at his apartment Which even though it’s not the first time I’d been there, it was the first time I’d been there on a bright sunny day, which just made it look even more shabby and messy than before. Not that I ever thought it was a palace or anything, but still, with the crappy stained couch and the dirty coffee table, it kinda makes you wonder where all the drug money goes.

So he grabbed a beer for himself and a glass of water for me, and even though he didn’t actually make a move or try anything, I still felt kind of nervous to be sitting in the living room, just me and him, with no one else around. I mean, I found myself actually hoping for that retarded Tom guy to drop by, just to cut some of the tension.

I’m not sure why I was feeling like that, because obviously I’m free to do whatever with whoever. Though I think it’s pretty obvious how hooking up with Jason would be a really bad idea. I mean, there are bad boys and then there are bad boys.

But since I didn’t want him to know just how weirded out he was making me feel, I made a pact with myself that I’d be polite and hang for a half an hour or so, and then fake some excuse so I could bail out of there and make it home way before my parents.

He propped his boot-clad feet right on top of his filthy glass coffee table, then he started talking about a bunch of VIPs he claims to know in New York, LA., and Vegas, and all kinds of other nonsense that really made me wonder if any of it could possibly be true.

And then for some reason I started to feel really really sleepy, and after like my third yawn in a row, he goes,

“Am I boring you?”

And I felt so guilty I said, “No, of course not I guess I just didn’t sleep all that well last night, that’s all.” Which wasn’t at all true, but still, I didn’t want to be rude.

So then he said, “Well, why don’t you lay down for a while and chill? I can take you home later.” Then he smiled in a way that was trying to be more convincing than kind.

But I just shook my head and said, “No, I should probably get going. Do you mind taking me now?”

And right when he smiled and opened his mouth to speak, Carly knocked on the door.

“Hey, you guys. Got out early. Coach Warner got called away on some kind of family emergency, so he had no choice but to let us all go.”

She plopped down on the couch, right beside Jason and smiled in a way that clearly showed how she didn’t give a shit about the coach or his family. And it’s not like I care about him either, I mean, so many times I’ve wanted to bust him for looking down my top, but still, a family emergency is never a good thing. Though in this case, I guess it was for Carly.

Jason immediately went to hand her his bong, but Carly just as quickly brushed it away. “Forget it I’ve got to stop smoking. I’m getting fat, and my jeans are totally starting to strangle me,” she said.

But he just laughed. “I got something to help you with that,” he told her.

And she went, “What? They invented a Nicorette patch for burnouts?”

He smiled. “Even better.”

“What, like those hippie herbal pills you give Zoë? No thanks,” she said, shaking her head.

But he just got up and went into the kitchen (which is basically still in the same room, just over on the other side) and when he came back over he had these two pills in his hand. And when he gave them to Carly, she said, “What’s this?”

And he smiled and said, “Zero-calorie, feel-good E.”

And she goes, “Omigod, this is ecstasy? I’ve totally been wanting to try it.” Then right before she places it on her tongue she squints at him and goes, “Wait, how much?”

But he just smiled and said, “Now baby you know me, the first three’s always free.”

So she grabbed my bottle of water and started to take them both, but before she could do that he grabbed her wrist and said, “Hold up, only one of those is yours. The other one’s for Zoë.”

And so she gave me the other one, and since I’ve always kind of wanted to try it too, and since I knew it would be safer if we did it together, I just popped it in my mouth then washed it down with a big swig of water.

It was only much later, on the way home, when I started to wonder if that was really E.

Okay, I didn’t write this earlier because I’m really freaking out, and I’m not sure I even want to actually sit down and think about it, much less write about it But at the same time I don’t feel like I can allow this to just live in my head because it’s starting to feel like way too much for me to hold on to. And since Marc’s not around (not like I could ever tell him anyway) and since no way am I discussing it with Carly since she’s partly responsible, I guess I’ll just have to settle for here.

So let’s just say that by the time Jason dropped me off, I was feeling like shit. I mean, seriously messed up and tired and clammy and nauseous, and just basically like total crap. And just as I was making my way up the drive, Marc stepped out from where he was waiting by the tree and said, “Did you have a good time?”

But I wasn’t up for any of that I was seriously upset, and all I wanted was to take a megahot long shower then go straight to bed. So I just shook my head and moved past him, intent on getting to the door without any more hassles, noticing how my mouth still tasted like vomit from when I got sick.

“I want to know if you had a good time with Jason,” he said, grabbing my arm now, his fingers squeezing hard and tight.

And just as I was trying to yank my arm away, the porch light went on and my dad opened the door, took one look at me, the way Marc was gripping my arm, and said, “Let go of my daughter”

So of course Marc immediately let go and started backing away. I’m sorry,” he said, both hands raised in surrender. “But you’ve got it all wrong. It’s not what you think.”

I just stood there, my forehead pressed against the door, my breath coming slow and weak, listening to my dad’s voice, all hard and serious as he said, “I want you to get in your car and go home. And I don’t ever want to see you anywhere near my daughter again, understood?”

And even though I wanted to explain how it wasn’t at all like he thought, I couldn’t. So I made my way upstairs and into my room, where I stripped off my clothes and went straight for the shower.

Great, my mom’s knocking. Apparently it’s dinnertime, so I guess I’ll continue this later

Later, though still Sept 16

So where was I? Oh yeah, so there are these bruises on my arm that my dad saw the next morning and just naturally assumed were from Marc. And even though I did my best to explain how he had it all wrong and how Marc

would never ever do something like that, he still refused to believe me.

He just sat down beside me and gave me some lecture about Those Kinds of Guys. The kind who first charm you, then abuse you. He also told me that if he ever saw him near me again, then he’d… but thank G he just left that last part hanging.

And while in a way it was kind of sweet to see my dad get all protective and worked up like that — because let’s face it, my family totally sucks at anything remotely emotional — the fact is, it was all so misguided. Besides, it’s not like I had any real faith in my dad’s ass-kicking abilities. I mean, he’d seriously be lucky if he could bench-press an encyclopedia.

Though it’s not like I could even try to tell him the real truth. I mean, I’m barely willing to admit it to myself.

Because even though he thinks Marc’s to blame, the truth is I know it’s from what happened at Jason’s. And the horrible things he made me and Carly do.

And even though I was so messed up that a lot of it’s still pretty fuzzy, what I do remember really makes me wonder just exactly what it was that he gave us. Because only something really hard-core could get me to do what I did.

Especially in front of a camera.

I shut the diary and stare before me, unable to focus, my mind reeling from the things I’d just read — all the horrible things my sister endured, the secrets she kept that few people knew.

But I don’t judge her. And not once while reading that did I shake my head and think, You should’ve known better.

Because Zoë’s sweet, trusting nature was the biggest part of her. Her unruly optimism is what drew people to her. And it was unfortunate that not all of those people meant as well as she.

She warned me about Jason though, in her own indirect way. She called me into her room one day and showed me a photo she’d kept on her cell phone of her and Carly and some guy with slick blond hair and a black leather jacket. “You see this creep?” she’d said, stabbing his face with the tip of her fingernail. “Stay far away from him. I’m serious, Echo, promise me that if you ever see him somewhere you’ll just turn around and walk the other way, okay? Promise?”

I leaned in and peered at the tiny thumbnail, then shrugged and turned to leave. But she refused to let me off that easy, so she made me look again. Which is the only reason I recognized him in the park that first day.

Zoë was just trying to protect me, in the way that she failed to protect herself. She was always telling me to look out, to not be so trusting, to run away if my instincts suggested it, to act in a way that she didn’t.

And it makes me wonder if maybe I’d been a year or so older, or even just acted a little more mature, if she

would’ve eventually felt safe enough to confide in me.

But then again, probably not. Zoë always made it her job to protect me, even if it meant protecting me from herself.

I close my eyes, afraid of what else I might read, but knowing I need to continue. Then I think about Teresa and her infatuation with Jason, and grab my cell, knowing I have to try to warn her, even if she doesn’t want to listen.

When she doesn’t pick up, I leave a message. Then I chase it with a text, asking her to call me, explaining that it’s urgent.