Saving Zoe

by Alyson Noel

  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.

  Thirty-one

  Sept 17

  For the last two days I've done my best to avoid Carly, which believe me, has not gone over so well. Especially

  after the bell rang and it was time to walk home and both times I didn't want to be anywhere near her. I mean, I'm

  sorry but I just can't go acting like everything's all fine and normal and like that whole disgusting day in Jason's filthy

  apartment never even happened. And the fact that she can just makes me want to avoid her even more.

  So just when I thought it was safe, she saw me and was all, "Hey, wait up! Zoë, jeez! Are you avoiding me?" she

  asked as she ran to catch up with me.

  I just took a deep breath and looked at her, having made up my mind not to lie. "Yes," I said, my eyes right on

  hers the whole time.

  "And can I ask why?" She stood there, hands on hips, looking all mad and indignant and bitchy.

  "Do I really need to explain?" I picked up the pace.

  "Well, I guess not. But I really don't get why you're so freaked. I mean, what's the big deal? It's not like anyone

  will ever know."

  I just looked at her and rolled my eyes, thinking she was so frustratingly lame, and wondering how we ever

  became friends. Then I said, "Well, you know what, Carly? I know. And you know. And Jason knows. And since he got

  it all on tape, it's just a matter of time before the whole freaking world knows! Don't you get it?"

  But she just shrugged, like it's not a big deal, which made me even madder.

  So I said, "I can't believe you did this to me. I can't believe you put me in that position!"

  But she just goes, It's not like anyone held a gun to your head, so stop acting like such a little effin baby. And

  let's just get one thing straight. Nobody made anyone do anything they weren't willing to do, okay? You were there of

  your own free will. Which means you also participated of your own free will."

  But no way was I letting her off that easy, so I said, "Oh really, is it still free will if I'm all messed up on

  something he gave me? Something that I'm really starting to doubt was E? Because I think he gave us something

  else, Carly. I think he gave us something way worse."

  But she just looked away and rolled her eyes, making it perfectly clear she thought I was overreacting. "Yeah?

  Well, it's not like he slipped it in your drink or anything. You took it right out of my hand, and nobody forced you to do

  that, Zoë."

  And hearing her say that made me so mad I started to shake, probably because I knew in a way it was true. But

  also because I couldn't stop thinking about that glass of water he gave me, and how tired I felt after just a few sips.

  Though it's not like I could prove anything, and it's not like Carly would even care. So I just shook my head and said,

  "But still, don't you realize how messed up this all is? Don't you realize how this will all come back to haunt us? Stuff

  like this always does, there's just no avoiding it."

  But she just rolled her eyes and went, "Relax, already. It's not like it hurt Paris Hilton's career. Or Pamela

  Anderson's. Or half of Hollywo—

  But before she could finish that, I was already gone. And when I got to the parking lot, I saw Shauna kissing

  Marc.

  And seeing them together like that made me burst into tears, and I took off running, just as fast as I could,

  wishing I could just keep going, just run without stopping 'til I reached the other side of the world.

  Sept 19

  My dreams are getting worse, and all the stress and lack of sleep is starting to make me look totally haggard.

  Seriously. I mean, my skin looks so bad I actually considered canceling the photo shoot. But then I realized how now

  more than ever I need to do whatever it takes to get the hell out of here so I never have to see Carly, or Jason, or

  anyone else in this stupid fucking town ever again.

  I need to go somewhere new, someplace where I can start fresh. And then someday when I'm rich and famous,

  I'll get hold of that tape and destroy it.

  Marc came up to me today at school, when I was standing at my locker, between classes. I was just switching

  out my books, when he leaned in and said, "Zoë."

  That's it. All he said was
my name, and I totally crumbled. Started bawling like a big pathetic baby. All of my

  worry, fear, and anxiety, all of my despair over the tape and my heartache over missing him and seeing how he'd

  already moved on to someone else, it all got mixed together and just came pouring out in a tsunami of emotion.

  But he just held me close, keeping me tight against his chest as he stroked my hair and whispered in my ear.

  And when I still couldn't stop, he said, "Come on. Let's get out of here." Then he grabbed my hand and led me away.

  We went to the park to feed our ducks. And at first we didn't speak much, but then once we got started, we could

  hardly stop. And I apologized for snooping in his file, and for getting so upset, and he apologized for getting so mad

  and avoiding me like that. Then just as I was feeling really really close to him, close enough to confide about the

  whole mess with Jason, he mentioned Shauna. Telling me how it didn't mean anything, how she was a nice girl and

  all, but still, a very poor substitute forme.

  So I held my tongue, and didn't say a word. Reminding myself how he wouldn't really want to know, and how it

  was far better to just keep quiet.

  Though I did say that if he wanted to be back together with me, then he was never allowed to call Shauna again.

  And he agreed.

  Then he told me all about Dr. Kenner, and how he started seeing him way back when his dad first went to jail

  and his mom started boozing and sleeping around on a regular basis, and how he was so full of rage and anger that

  he basically went kind of nuts and ended up vandalizing one of the buildings at his private school. At first his mom

  was able to keep it quiet by paying for the damage, pulling him out, and enrolling him somewhere else, but at the next

  school it was basically the exact same thing, and it pretty much went on like that until they ran out of expensive

  schools. So I guess Bella Vista and Dr. Kenner were pretty much his last great hope, since if he messed up again

  he'd be headed straight tojuvie, no matter how much money his mom threw at the courts.

  He said it all worked out for the best though, since Dr. Kenner really helped him find his way through all the

  really bad stuff, and he learned how to control his anger and channel it into other things, like fixing cars and music and

  books and stuff like that. It's also part of the reason why he doesn't like to drink. He said now that he knows what it's

  like to be in control, he doesn't ever want to risk losing that again.

  So I went, "But why didn't you tell me all this before? Why'd you keep it a secret?"

  And he said, "I was about to tell you when I found out where you worked, but the way you made fun of the

  patients, well, I didn't want you to see me like that"

  I just nodded, feeling so incredibly awful for being so insensitive and making him feel bad. And I also felt so

  guilty when I realized how he'd confided all of his secrets, but I was still keeping mine.

  But then he said, "The only thing that could ever make me fly off the handle again is to see you anywhere near

  Jason. That guy is total trash, and I want you to stay away from him, okay?"

  Then he held my chin, and made me face him. And his eyes were so dark and severe, I just nodded, and

  quickly looked away.

  Later, when Marc drove me home, all the cars were gone so I invited him inside, and I found a note from my

  mom telling how she and my dad and Echo went for pizza and a movie and how they'd all be back later.

  So it didn't take long for Marc to coax me upstairs, obviously looking forward to a little make-up sex. And even

  though at first I thought I wanted it too, once he started kissing me, I just couldn't go through with it.

  But when I tried to roll over and push him away, wanting for him to just hold me and love me and keep me safe,

  he got upset

  "C'mon Zoë, I've missed you so much,"he whispered.

  But I ignored him and just closed my eyes, trying not to think about Carly and me and Jason's camera. Not to

  mention Shauna and Marc and what they might've done together.

  'What gives?" he asked, kissing the back of my neck and reaching around for my breasts.

  But I just pulled the covers over me, and said, "Nothing, jeez." Then I rolled my eyes, but it's not like he could

  see.

  "Then why are you covering yourself?" he asked, refusing to just hold me and let the rest go.

  "'Cause I'm cold," I said, going right back to lying again.

  But it was clear he didn't believe me. "Does this have anything to do with Jason?" he asked. "Is there something

  I need to know?"

  And even though every part of me was screaming YES, desperate to finally unload this burden so I wouldn't

  have to carry it alone, I knew that I couldn't. Because when I finally turned to face him, feeling ready and willing to talk,

  I saw that his eyes were dark and angry for the second time today.

  And suddenly I understood how someone as sweet and mellow as he could set fires, break windows, and tear

  things apart. And all I wanted was for him to leave.

  I turned so we were no longer facing each other, then I closed my eyes and said, "What's the matter, Marc,

  Shauna left you hanging too?"

  Then he grabbed hold of my arms, but released them just as quickly. Then he got up from the bed, grabbed his

  clothes, and fled.

  And I lay there like that, 'til long after he left, wondering who I should fear more, Jason or Marc?

  I'm almost at the end. The end of the diary, the end of Zoë. And even though I'm desperate to finish, I'm just as

  reluctant to say good-bye. I gaze over at the clock, seeing how it's well past two, and wonder if Abby and Jenay will

  talk about me on the way home, or if they're so glad to be rid of me they've already moved on.

  I still have time to burn before my mom comes home, and you can pretty much double that for my dad. And

  wanting to just take my time with the last few pages, I set it on the coffee table and go outside.

  Winter has already edged out fall, having moved in quickly with its crisp cold air and warm clean scent of wood

  fireplace logs—two things I always look forward to. And as I walk around my mom's formerly well-tended but now

  much-neglected garden, I notice how the spring blooms, having gone completely ignored, are now either all shriveled

  up and hanging by a sliver or rotting away on the ground, their stalks bent down by their sides. And I wonder if my

  mom will ever put on her hat and gloves and venture back out here, rediscovering the things that once brought her

  such joy. Or if this is how well always live now, just barely cared for but mostly untended.

  I shiver against the wind, my worn sweatpants, thin T-shirt, and thick socks with the big gaping hole in the heel

  providing a pretty pathetic shield. But still, it's not like I move for cover, or even think about going inside. Instead I just

  stand there, rubbing my arms for warmth, feeling grateful to have a problem with such an obvious solution.

  Reading Zoë's diary has left me on shaky emotional ground, and I feel like I'm living on a fault line, where my

  moods rise and fall with every slight shift, while the world I'd once known quakes precariously around me.

  So compared to all that, Old Lady Winter is pretty much a wimp.

  I stay out a while longer, watching my neighbor's black cat delicately pick his way across the top of our fence

  before jumping down to the other side. Then I head for the door, closing it quickly behind me when I hear my phone

  beeping in the den, and someone banging hard against the front door.

&nb
sp; Thirty-two

  You'd think that at some point during my parents' marathon of paranoia, somewhere around the time when they were

  installing the third dead bolt, they would've noticed how the front door is surrounded by glass. And not stained glass,

  or bathroom glass, or any other kind of glass that has bumps and colors that do a fine job of distorting an image.

  Nope, I'm talking plain, old, clear glass, the kind you can see right through.

  But somehow they missed that.

  Which leaves me face-to-face with Marc.

  "Hey," he says, waving from the other side. "It took you forever to answer and I was worried. Let me in."

  I watch him standing there waving, part of me about to obey, while the other part freezes. And suddenly I wish

  I'd skipped the little backyard field trip and just finished that diary once and for all.

  "Whose car is that?" I ask, gazing at a bright red, vintage MG now parked on my driveway.

  "Let me in and I'll tell you," he says, nodding and smiling, so sure that I will.

  But I just shake my head and turn away, moving back toward the den where I sit on the couch, listening as he

  bangs on the door, saying things like, "Echo, please. I can explain. I want to explain. But you have to let me in."

  But I just pick up my cell to check my voice mail, breathing a sigh of relief when I hear Marc finally drive away.

  "Echo, hey, it's so weird you called me and said that it's urgent and all, because I really need to talk to you too.

  So if you could, oh shit, here comes Ms. Jenkins." Then I listen as Teresa says in her sweet, obedient voice, "It's

  off! I swear, look!" And then she whispers, "Jeez, okay, anyway, it's about—hey, give it ba—!"

  And even though her phone is most likely in Ms. Jenkins's possession, I dial her number anyway. But when she

  doesn't answer, I know the next move is hers.

  Sept 21

  I don't know what I was thinking when I scheduled this appointment, because if I thought I could just stroll off

  campus with a duffel bag full of makeup and clothes that

  I'd managed to hide all day from Marc by keeping it stashed in my gym locker, then shame on me because that

  was one stupid, not-so-well-thought-out plan.

  And since I'm no longer talking to Carly, which means