Alyson Noël - Saving Zoë

Went shopping for back-to-school clothes with Mom and Echo, and when Mom refused to buy me the jeans I wanted, I just pulled out a wad of cash and bought them myself Hah! The power of employment! And seeing her face go all tight and twisted made it totally worth spending all of my hard-earned dough.

“You’re the one who wanted me to work,” I couldn’t help but remind her. “You’re the one who found me the high-paying job!”

I swear, I can’t wait ’til I’m a model making a gazillion trillion dollars, driving a Mercedes, living in an awesome penthouse apartment chock full of Jimmy Choos and Prada bags, and sending my parents on vacations in exotic locales — just to get them out of my hair! Let’s see who judges me then!

After shopping we went for lunch, and just as I stuck my fork in my salad Echo announced that she’s already completed her summer reading list and is getting a head start on the books she heard she’ll have to read during the school year.

Jeez! Sometimes I can’t believe that we’re actually sisters. Seriously. I mean, I love her, I really, really do, but sometimes it seems like she’s from another planet. Or maybe it’s me. Maybe I really am adopted like I used to dream about when I was younger. Because despite having my father’s eyes and my mother’s nose, there’s no way in hell I’m even remotely DNA connected to these people.

Oh yeah, I also got these really awesome shoes, a couple new sweaters, and a really cute fall coat with a fake fur collar (since I would never wear real fur, I love animals too much, and I plan to make sure that’s included in all of my modeling contracts).

But it’s not like I can actually wear any of it right now since it’s still so freaking hot out. But still, maybe I’ll just pack it all up and drag it over to Carly’s so she can take some photos of me in it. I need some new pictures for my page since I’m planning a complete overhaul. I’m totally gonna delete all the slutty, stupid, bullshit quotes, and any and all comments regarding drinking, sex, or partying. I’m even gonna switch the background wallpaper to something clean, and sleek, and modern. I’m gonna make it like my online portfolio. So it needs to look as professional as possible.

And even though I still haven’t told Marc anything about it, last night when we were all at Kevin’s, Paula totally let it slip.

“Omigod,” she said. “Remember when we put that picture on your site, the one where you had your top off and then all those guys started instant messaging you?”

I just sat there, totally bugging, and thinking how I was going to kill her the second I could get her alone.

But then Carly goes, “That was my site, dummy. Zoë doesn’t have a site, remember?”

And then Paula looks at me, and goes, “Oh yeah, duh! Somebody pass me another beer! Ha ha!”

And then everyone laughed, including me because I felt like I had to, to make it look real.

Marc was the only one who didn’t laugh. Marc just stared.

One week down, two to go! Been hanging at Paula’s every day, read the first two pages of one of the books from the eleventh-grade summer reading list — boring! Saw Marc every night except for one where he acted all mysterious so I acted like I didn’t care.

Still working on the revamp of my new Web page, though I’m still not all that thrilled with the photos Carly took. I mean, right after I uploaded them, I waited for the usual comments to come pouring in, but mostly I just got stuff like:

So I guess that means if I wanted to be a porn star I’d be set. But that’s not gonna happen — / mean, disgusting! Not to mention how the only lingerie ads I’d ever be willing to do are for Victoria’s Secret. I mean, if it’s good enough for Giselle, then it’s good enough for me, but otherwise, that kind of stuff is usually sleazy and cheesy.

Anyway, I think it’s getting painfully obvious how I definitely need to get some professional pictures taken by a real photographer, in a real studio, as opposed to a bunch of cell phone digitals taken by my drunk, burnout friend in her poorly lit bathroom.

And then, wouldn’t you know it, just when I was actually considering returning those awesome two-hundred-dollar jeans (that I already wore) so I’ll have more money to add to the professional photographer savings account I keep stashed under my mattress I get a message from a professional photographer!

Seriously! Apparently he stumbled across my page and saw my photos and thinks I have potential but the pictures are way too amateur! Duh. So he told me to check out his Web page to see some of his work, and to let him know if I’m interested.

So of course I clicked right over and checked out his pictures, which I gotta say are completely amazing! Seriously nice high fashion black-and-whites, along with some really great head shots, some of which feature models that I’m actually familiar with! And I was so majorly excited I was just about to e-mail him back, when Marc called. So instead I just bookmarked the page, figuring it’s probably better to wait a few days and not look all desperate and overly eager.

But still — kismet fate, destiny, providence, big-time amazing luck — call it what you want, it’s finally starting to happen for me!

I’m totally freaked and don’t know what to do. And the worst part is I can’t tell anyone, at least not until I know what it means, because maybe it won’t end up meaning anything. But at the moment, I just can’t seem to figure it out. And believe me, I’ve tried.

Okay, so I was just out with my dad, on our way downtown, and just as we drove past the office where I work I saw Marc opening the door and going inside. And even though I immediately turned around in my seat and did a total double take just to make sure it was him, the whole thing happened so fast I just couldn’t be positive.

But I still have to stress how it really, really, really looked like him. I mean, let me put it this way, how many guys in this town are that good looking and just happen to dress in all black and wear Doc Marten boots when it’s one hundred and two in the shade?

Only one that I know of

And it’s not like it would be such a big deal, except for the fact of how he told me he was going to be home all day, doing some work on his car. So right after the sighting, I tried to reach him on his cell, but he must’ve turned it off cuz it went straight into voice mail. Which, okay, fine, maybe he doesn’t want to have it on when he’s working on his car, I mean, that makes sense, right?

But then here’s the thing — the only people who occupy that office are two shrinks. My boss, who I know for a fact is away on vacation, and the other one who’s this psychiatrist (which, I recently found out, means he went to school even longer so he can make even more money and prescribe drugs) who doesn’t leave for vacation ’til my boss gets back.

And then I remember that comment Mark made that one day about my boss having a goatee, and how it got me all wondering how he would even know that since it’s not like they’d ever met or had ever seen each other.

And even though I shrugged it off at the time, now I’m starting to wonder just how many secrets he’s actually keeping from me.

Because to be honest, it seems like they’re starting to multiply.

That photographer dude just sent me another message, which seems a little weird and desperate. But then Carly goes, “Well maybe he just wants to be the one who discovers you, because if you become famous, then it’s like big-time kudos for him, right?”