Alyson ël - Saving Zoë

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.

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.

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.