Alyson ël - Saving Zoë

“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.

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

I’m not talking to Paula all that much either (since they’re always together now), it’s not like I had anyone left to help me pull this off. So I just figured that the second the final bell rang, I’d try to grab all my stuff and skip out.

But guess who was already there, standing by my locker, waiting?

Okay, I know I didn’t write yesterday, cuz I was just way too busy getting everything organized, so let me just say that a couple hours after Marc left, he called to apologize, and then way later he came back over and I snuck him into my room and he just held me while I slept. And when I woke up in the middle of the night he was already gone, and then yesterday at school we both acted like none of the bad stuff ever happened, that I never said that shit about Shauna, and that he never got angry about Jason, and that we were never really broken up to begin with. And since that’s the way I actually wanted things to be, it was pretty easy to play along and pretend.

And then late last night I snuck out and went to his place since his mom and stepdad are out of town, and we went skinny-dipping, hung in the Jacuzzi, then slept together in the bed in the pool house. Then just before the sun came up, he drove me home. And right before climbing back up the tree, I kissed him good-bye. And at that moment I knew I was being given a second chance, that we really could start over. I just hoped I would be smart enough not to blow it.

So anyway, this is the first time I’ve ever carried my diary with me, the first time I ever took it out of the house, and even though I keep kind of freaking out and double-checking to make sure I didn’t lose it (I mean, can you even imagine?), today is such a humongo big day that I just feel like I should document every single second of it, since it’s the first day of taking the first step toward changing my entire life! Not to mention how when I become really rich and famous, they’ll probably ask me to write my memoirs, and I can use this as a guide.

Anyway, I feel so incredibly good about this meeting — I’ve lost six pounds, not that I even needed to, but since the camera does add ten, I figure it can’t hurt — and I even found this amazing new cover stick that is totally working at hiding the dark circles and all the other signs of worry, stress, and major lack of sleep. And it’s just so amazing how it’s all falling so smoothly into place. I mean, before all this came together, I was never all that big on destiny. I mean, yeah, I would joke about it and stuff, but that doesn’t mean I actually really believed in it. I just always figured that you get to where you want to go by working hard and totally going for it — not by any kind of cosmic energy, or whatever.

But now, with the way it’s all moving forward, I just know deep down inside that it’s totally meant to be.

So anyway, when Marc saw me at my locker with my overstuffed bag, he just looked at me, and said, “What’s that?”

Well, at first I tried to lie and tell him I was getting a bunch of clothes taken in since I’d lost all that weight But when it was clear he wasn’t buying it, I told him I was auditioning for a play, and that I was too freaked out, nervous, and superstitious to say anything more about it.

“Just a community theater thing, no biggie. I’m just doing it for the experience,” I said.

“Can I come?” he asked.

But I told him no. Told him that he’d make me too nervous, and that I didn’t even want him to drive me. I’d just planned to take the bus, which meant I needed to leave right away, since it’d take me a whole lot longer to get there like that (which isn’t even a full lie, because I had planned to take the bus to the photo shoot).

So he just looked at me and said, “How ’bout I drive you and pick you up after?”

And I said, “No way, Jose. In fact, I don’t even want to talk about it afterward, unless of course they cast me, then I’ll bore you to death with all the details.”

So he goes, “Well then how ’bout this — we go to the park, hang for a while, and then you take my car and come pick me up when you’re done?”

“But I don’t know how long it will take! I mean, you’re just gonna sit there that whole time?” I asked, part of me really wanting the car since it would make everything so much easier, but the other part not wanting to be responsible for picking him up. I mean, what if it runs late? But still, having the car will really help, so I agreed.

Okay, so I just wrote all that in the parking lot of the Circle K, where he just went in to get us some snacks and waters and cigarettes and bread for our pet ducks. And now he’s back so—

“Thank you darling,” I say, wanting a ciggie big-time but knowing I can’t write and open the pack at the same time. But really, what’s more important, smoking or recording all the little mundane things that happen to me while I’m still anonymous?

So he goes, “What are you writing about that’s making you so happy?”

Then he acts like he’s trying to peek over my shoulder so I pull it away and say, “You have no idea.”

So we’re at the park now, and I’m feeding the ducks while Marc starts on his homework and then he looks at me and goes, “So what play are you trying out for?”

And since I’m more into movies, and don’t really know any plays, I go, “Phantom of the Opera.” And believe me, the second it’s out, I regret it

So he looks at me and goes, “I didn’t know you could sing opera.” Then he gives me this suspicious squinty kind of look.

But I think I pulled it off, cuz I just said, “I don’t, silly. It’s for a nonsinging part. A really small part, in fact, and it’s really no big deal. I just think it will be good experience to go to an audition and see what it’s like to be onstage with everyone watching you and stuff.” And since it seems like he might actually believe that I add, “But what about you? Are you really just gonna sit here and wait?”

And he smiles and goes, “Yup.”

And I go, “But what if you get bored, or need to go home or something?”

But he just shakes his head and says, “No worries, I’ll handle it. Just don’t forget to come back for me.” Then he jangles his car keys as he starts to hand them over.

And I go, “Please, I could never forget you,” then I lean in and kiss him, and reach for the keys.

But then he goes, “Wait, I want something in return.”

I just looked at him, thinking I should’ve known better, ’cause there’s always a catch. “What?” I ask.

“Your diary,” he says. “Leave me your diary just to make sure.”

“Make sure of what?”

“To make sure you come back to me. You know, like collateral?” He smiles.

“You’re not gonna read it, are you?” I ask, still wanting those keys but not liking the trade, and wondering if I can trust him to really not read it.

But he just gives me a serious look, and says, “Only if you don’t come back.” Then he leans in and kisses me, and says, “And when you return, I have a major surprise for you. Something you’re gonna love, that will also explain everything, everything you’ve been wondering about where I was those times when you couldn’t reach me. I just want us to rewind, to get back to where we were. I really love you, Zoë.”

So I say, “And I really love you, Marc.”

Then he smiles and says, “Are you ever going to stop writing so I can kiss you and tell you good-bye?”

And I smile and say, “Yes!”

I turn the page but that’s it. And every page that follows is as blank as the one before it, nothing but blue lines on white background, Zoë’s loopy handwriting coming to its final rest.

I close my eyes and lean back against the cushions, tears pouring down my cheeks, thinking how strange it is that her diary ended on “Yes!” When her life probably ended on “No!”

I sit there, holding her book in my lap, unwilling to look at it, unable to let go.

And when my cell phone rings, I hit speaker wiping my eyes as Teresa says, “Echo, I’m on my way over. We really need to talk.”

Seconds later when the doorbell rings, I assume Teresa was a lot closer than I’d thought. But when I peek through the glass and see Abby, my stomach drops so fast and hard it takes me a moment to realize that she’s smiling as though yesterday never happened.