Saving Zoë

Thirty-five

Today the bench was finally unveiled, so we held a big party for Zoë. And even though some people still insisted on calling it a memorial, I refused to see it that way. We did that already, over a year and a half ago. So this was more like a celebration of her life, not another remembrance of her death.

At first my parents acted all weird around Marc, but probably just out of habit. Because now they finally get that no matter how much he loved her, he just couldn’t save her. None of us could. And trying to blame anyone other than her killer is just a total waste of time.

So after a few awkward moments, my dad grasped Marc’s hand, his jaw going all tight and determined as he struggled not to cry. And my mom, off the happy pills for almost three months now and no longer scared or enslaved by her tears, hugged him tight to her chest while she smoothed his hair and whispered into his ear that it will all be all right.

Then my mom wiped her face and my dad nodded his head, and they reached for each other, holding hands and leaning together, finally finding strength in the one place it’d been waiting all this time.

And as I watched them standing there, looking so complete, I realized our family sessions with the Dr. Phil wannabe probably weren’t as stupid as they seemed.

That day, right after I said good-bye to Marc, I walked into the house, only to find both my parents sitting in the living room, totally hysterically panicked, with the cops well on their way.

Apparently my mom called a bunch of times, just wanting to check in and see how I was feeling. But when I failed to answer she grew concerned and came straight home to find an empty house and no note.

Well, naturally she assumed something horrible had happened, since Zoë’s murder pretty much guaranteed that we’ll never reside in that safe, protective bubble again. And so she called my dad, and he notified the police, and then they both sat in the den, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

I felt awful that I’d put them into such a panic, and it took me awhile to calm them down, but when I did finally get a chance to explain, I made sure to tell them only what they needed to know, while preserving the rest for Marc, Zoë, and me.

Then I reached into my pocket and handed over the tape (making no mention of the diary), while cautioning them about what it most likely contained. Then I sank onto the couch in total exhaustion, relieved to let them take over and handle these things for a change.

I also explained how the way we were living was no longer working, and how I needed them to finally figure things out. Because while all the late nights and fights would never bring Zoë back, they would eventually destroy what little we had left.

Zoë’s killer was recently convicted. Apparently he’d made a longtime habit of targeting small-town girls with big dreams, promising the moon before taking their lives. Seven victims later and the creep still didn’t even own a camera. And the Web page he’d set up was a total fake.

But the good news is he’ll never see daylight again. He’ll never be able to betray someone’s faith, the way he did with Zoë.

And as for Jason? Well, the charges are all lined up, with separate trials for the drugs, the videos, and the underage girls. And with such a strong case against him, they won’t have to rely on Carly and Zoë to convict him.

Still, pretty much everybody around here knows, and the gossip is worse than ever. But I no longer care. I’m just glad I didn’t lose my best friends, Abby and Jenay, and was even lucky enough to find some new ones in Marc and Teresa.

Jenay showed up at Zoë’s party with Chess. And Abby, having decided that her nerves and self-consciousness were solely to blame for their awkward first kiss, showed up with Jax. And after seeing how good they are together, how truly well matched they are, I’m glad she ignored my bad advice and decided to give him another chance.

Parker came too, only he brought his new girlfriend, Heidi. And even though things are still a little uncomfortable between us, I was glad he made it.

And when Teresa walked up alone, everyone turned and stared. But since I know full well what it’s like to be the center of unwanted attention, I waved her over and told her to join us.

She and Sean broke up, like the second the story broke. And her parents were so angry at what she’d done and the danger she’d put herself in, and yet hugely relieved that she’d made it out basically unharmed, that they went out and bought her a brand-new car — a black BMW, loaded with the most modern GPS tracking system so they can monitor her every move. Even though, technically, she’s not even old enough to drive it yet.

And after Paula passed out little Baggies full of Wonder bread, and Abby and Jenay lit the candles, Carly tried to read a poem she wrote especially for my sister, only she had to stop halfway through when she broke down in tears.

Just a few days after the whole Jason story leaked, she showed up at our house, begging our forgiveness, unwilling to leave until she was convinced that she had it. But she and I are okay now. I mean, we’re not exactly friends, but now we can at least say hey when we see each other at school.

Then Marc docked his iPod and turned up the sound, and everyone gathered around the new bench, Marc on my left, my parents on my right, as we listened to Coltrane, tossed crumbs to those fat, greedy ducks, and remembered Zoë.