Alyson ël - Saving Zoë

But it’s Marc who says, “Echo, it’s me.”

And my heart starts pounding hard in my chest, partly because I can’t imagine why he’d risk calling me on this line, and partly because I can’t imagine why he’s calling me in the first place. I mean, not after last night. But still, I’m determined to sound cool, calm, and relaxed so he’ll never guess just how spooked he’s making me feel, so I clear

my throat and say, “Oh hey, what’s up?” Seemingly all normal, like it’s just another day.

“Well, it’s lunch, and since you’re not here with me, and since you’re not at your old table with your friends, I figured you might be home. You feeling okay?” he asks in a voice that actually sounds concerned.

“Why are you calling me on this line?” I ask, choosing not to answer his question about whether or not I’m okay, since I’m really not sure of the answer myself.

“Because you didn’t answer your cell,” he says, sounding pretty matter-of-fact. “But what if my parents answered? What would you do then?”

“I don’t know. Hang up?” He laughs. “I guess I just assumed they were still at work, which means you’re home alone, right?”

I’m not sure why, but I don’t want him to know the answer to that. So I take a deep breath and say, “Maybe.”

Which just makes him laugh even more. “Fine. Listen,” he says. “I’m sorry about last night. And I’m totally willing to blow off the rest of my classes so I can come over and see you. I think it’s time I explain a few things, I think it’s the least I can do.”

“There’s really nothing to explain,” I say, wanting to sound blase, but coming off more like edgy, paranoid, and totally freaked. Knowing I need answers, but not willing to get them from him.

“Trust me, there’s plenty to explain. But I need to do it in person. I need you to understand. So is it okay if I come over?” he asks.

I grip the phone tightly, partly because my hand is totally shaking and partly because practically all of me is shaking. Then I take a deep breath and say, “No.”

Then I hang up the phone, and check all three dead bolts.

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.