Alyson ël - Saving Zoë

I know he’s into me.

I’m never wrong about these things.

Didn’t make it downstairs ’til after 11, still feeling drunk from last night. Walked right into the edge of the kitchen table and had to grab the corner to steady myself. Thank G nobody noticed. Dad had his nose buried in a pile of papers (as usual), Mom was outside working in her overachiever garden wearing her big old hat, SPF 75, wraparound sunglasses, gloves, and a long-sleeved shirt — like she’s allergic to the sun or something. Only Echo sniffed the air as I passed, flashed me a knowing look, but didn’t say a word as I headed for the coffeemaker. Didn’t even get to the second sip before Carly called, wanting to bitch me out for ditching Stephen and trying to hook up with Marc behind his back.

So I reminded her that I’m her BFF, NOT Stephen. I’m the one who covered for her that time when she said she was at my house but was really out with H, not to mention the gazillion other favors I’ve done for her over the last 5 years. Not to mention that Marc was already gone by the time I finally made it outside, so no damage done, right?

But even after I reminded her of all that she still has the nerve to go, “Yeah, but still.”

I mean, I love Carly, really I do. But this holier than thou crap has got to stop.

Maybe she should get together with Stephen if she cares so much about his stupid feelings.

I’m psychic! Just call me Claire Voyant Because the very last line I wrote in my very last entry came true. That’s right, Carly hooked up with Stephen. And I’m not even that mad about it. Really. I barely even care. Well, other than the fact that she went behind my back. But really, as far as I’m concerned she can have him because I am sooooo over him. I’m sick of how his life revolves around sports and those stupid instant replays he insists on watching over and over and over again. I’m sick of the way he eats with his mouth open, all those chucked up particles tossing from side to side as he laughs out loud at his own lame-ass jokes. But mostly I’m sick of the way he bicep peeks during sex. It’s like he gets more excited watching the way they bulge out than by seeing me naked beneath him. And if I sound like some bitter old hausfrau who got married too young, and stayed married too long, well, then, whose fault is that? He stole a year of my life, robbed me of time I’ll never get back.

Not to mention how it’s been totally obvious from the start how Carly’s been crushing on him, since day one. It’s like she’s been waiting this entire time for me to dump him. Even the six months she was with H, she was just passing time. So if she wants him that bad, she can have him. I hope they’re very happy together, really I do.

I just think she could’ve waited ’til I’d actually broken up with him first I just think she could’ve waited ’til things were official. Not to mention how she could have at least pretended to look guilty when I walked in on them.

But instead she just looked up and said, “Well you said you were gonna leave him.”

Which, of course, made Stephen gawk at me in shock. But I just kept right on looking at her. Shaking my head as I used her words right back at her, saying, “Yeah, but still.”

Then I went back downstairs and ended up smoking some really powerful shit with Kevin and Kristin who are so freaking in love they’ll probably get married or something. I mean it’s just so weird how they’ve been together since eighth grade, and how they never ever think about what they could be missing.

I’m always thinking about what I’m missing.

Even when I’m happy with what I have.

Anyway, we just hung in the backyard, looking at the stars ’til we were cold and hungry and misted with dew.

And everything felt so vast, and unlimited, and extremely close to perfect

But now I have to figure out a way to fill up the summer before my parents decide that for me. So, good luck to me!

I stifle a yawn, and close Zoë’s diary, sliding it under my mattress for safekeeping. Not one thing I read surprised me. Seriously, not the drugs, not the sex, not even that whole big drama with Carly. Though I’d always been kind of curious why she stopped coming over so much. I guess I just assumed it had something to do with Marc. But then Zoë’s life had always been dramatic, and mysterious, and far more adventurous than mine. And even though I like Carly, I know it had to be a pretty tough gig to be my sister’s best friend. I mean, Zoë was just one of those people who the clouds always cleared for, the sun always shined on, and the stars came out for.

She’s the reason they invented spotlights.

And she left anyone standing next to her feeling like a dull, spent bulb.

But what did surprise me was the way I felt as I was reading. So close to Zoë, like she was sitting right there beside me, whispering the words in my ear, and urging me to turn the page.

And it feels so good to finally have her back, that I switch off the light and close my eyes, saving Zoë for another day.

By Monday at school Jenay and Chess are officially a couple. Though that’s really no surprise for those of us forced to watch them make out for the remainder of my party. And as I head for the lunch table that has gotten so crowded weVe merged with the one beside it, I actually have to fight the urge to just turn around and bolt.

I mean, where would I go? Back to junior high? Because obviously, that’s no longer an option. So instead I take a deep breath and smile at everyone, including Parker — who I’ve managed to avoid until now.

“Hey,” I say, dropping my lunch on the table, and easing onto the long yellow bench.

Jenay smiles then goes right back to her story, and by the time she’s finished everyone is laughing. Well, everyone but me. Since it’s the one about how when she and Abby were watching her baby brother and he squirted them both in the face just as they were changing his diaper, which believe me, I’ve heard like a million times before.

So I just reach into my lunch pack and retrieve my sandwich, trying to ignore the fact that Parker is waving at me, trying to get my attention.

“Hey, wake up,” he says, leaning toward me and smiling. “I called you last night but it went straight to voice mail. I got your number from Jenay. I hope that’s okay?”

“Oh, sorry about that,” I say, twisting the top off my Snapple and taking a sip. “My phone was off, and by the time I realized you’d called…” I just shrug, letting that trail off to nothing. Because the truth is, it’s not like I was going to call him back anyway. And it’s not because I don’t like him, I mean, I’m not exactly sure how I feel about him. It’s mostly because I’m so freaking lame I don’t know what to say after “hello.”

“Did you have a good weekend?” he asks.

I think about the book I read, the homework I finished, Zoë’s diary, and shrug. “Yeah. You?”

He nods, still leaning toward me, still smiling, still gazing at me with those deep blue eyes.

But when I see him looking at me like that, ignoring everyone else just so he can concentrate solely on me, it makes me feel so freaked out, so nervous, and so totally inadequate, that I stand up and say, “Urn, I’ll be right back.”

Then I abandon my lunch, abandon the table, and run out the door, desperate for fresh air and a temporary respite from the worst part of me — the pathetic, fearful, morbidly insecure part. The part that wonders why a guy as cute as Parker would ever like a girl as dorky as me, why anyone anywhere would ever like me.

I run past the burnout tree, the one where all the hard-core partiers hang, thinking how they’re the only group in this whole entire school who never point, stare, or whisper as I pass. But maybe that’s because they’re just too stoned to care. I mean the cheerleaders, the song leaders, the drill teamers, the mascots, the jocks, the drama freaks, the band geeks, the science nerds, the fashionistas, the club leaders, the council reps, the Goths, the Preps, the ROTC marchers, the girls who starve to be skinny, the girls who barf to be skinny, the scrawny guys, the wannabes, the techies, the sluts, the virgins, the cutters, the Future Farmers of America, the alterna artists, the rainbow kids — the one thing they all have in common is that they all stare at me. Every single one of them. But the major druggies? Not so much. So it feels pretty safe to pass by.

I head toward the bathroom, even though I don’t really plan on going inside. But it’s good to have as a decoy route in case Abby decides to come looking for me again. And then just as I turn down the hall where I’d planned to lean against the wall until the bell rings, I see Marc sitting not two feet away.

“Oh. Hey,” I say, surprised to not only run into him again, but also to see that he’s smoking, on campus, as though it’s actually allowed or something.

He just looks at me and nods, squinting his eyes as he takes another drag.

“I was just on my way to—” I point straight ahead, feeling the need to explain my presence, yet feeling embarrassed by how fake I sound.

But he just drops his cigarette, smashes it with his thick, rubber-soled boot, looks up at me, and goes, “Did you read it?”

I gaze down at the ground, not wanting him to know.

Then he gets up from the bench and brushes right past me. “You will when you’re ready,” he says, walking away.

“Where the heck did you go? Parker thinks you hate him.” Jenay merges her brows together and shakes her head. “He waited so long, he was late to class.”