Alyson Noël - Saving Zoë

And when you think about it, she really does have a point Anyway, I didn’t message him back yet, ’cause I’m meeting Carly soon and I need to concentrate on that right now. I mean, I finally broke down and told her all about how I saw Marc at the shrink’s office and how weird things have been with us lately.

And then she was all, “What’s that about?”

And I’m like, “Who knows?”

Then she says, “Well, don’t you have a key?”

And I go, “Yeah, but it’s only to the front door and his office. Not the other guy’s place.”

And she goes, “Well, it’s a start.”

Marc just called to make plans for our two-months-since-we-first-kissed anniversary and I don’t even know what to say. I mean, just two days ago I would’ve thought that was extremely romantic, but now it’s kind of creeping me out. I guess it’s because of what I found out. Or more like what I kind of found out. Because sometimes having only a partial answer is worse than not knowing at all.

Finally called Marc back (I know, I know, bad girlfriend). Anyway, I told him dinner at Giorgio’s tomorrow night sounds good, but that I wouldn’t be able to see him ’til then.

But still, the more I think about it, the more I think it’s probably nothing, since he’s never done anything major to weird me out before (and you’d think I’d know by now if he had psycho tendencies or something). And I’ve definitely never seen him do anything remotely violent or destructive, and the only time he’s ever playing with fire is when we’re smoking, which doesn’t really count as playing with fire, right? (Just playing with your health — ha ha!) Anyway, I’m actually starting to wonder if maybe I’m the one who’s crazy!

I mean, I love him — I really, truly, totally do! And I can hardly believe the way I’m totally overreacting to something that in all likelihood is probably nothing! And I really have to stop acting like this because if I don’t then I’m

totally going to sabotage the only relationship I’ve ever had that’s actually made me feel extremely happy.

Not to mention how I need to learn to give him some space and respect his privacy since it’s really not necessary for two people to know absolutely everything about each other. In fact, it’s better not to. At least that’s what they say in Cosmo.

But still, I just can’t stop wondering why Marc wouldn’t tell me that he’s seeing a shrink. Unless it’s because I always make fun of my boss and the psychos who see him, in which case, I feel even worse.

Today I went shopping, thinking I’d buy something new and exciting to wear to my anniversary dinner tonight with Marc. But since everything that’s out now is pretty much for fall, and with the daytime temperatures still in the triple digits — and the nighttime only slightly cooler than that — I decided to just save my money and wear something I already have. Besides, it’s not like I’m all that excited about it anyway, not to mention how I need to start saving as much money as possible to invest in my photos, my future, and my one-way ticket out of this hell town.

And then just as I was about to leave, I remembered how Echo’s b-day is totally coming up. And since I was already out shopping, I figured I might as well get a head start and buy something early, as opposed to picking up something in a last-minute panic like I usually do.

But since she’s not all that into clothes yet, and since she barely wears any makeup or perfume, and since she doesn’t seem to focus much on her hair, that pretty much ruled out all of my areas of expertise.

So I headed over to the bookstore, where she likes to spend all her free time, but even though it’s not like it was the first time I’d ever gone in there (I mean, I’m not retarded, I just don’t like to read), still, walking around and trying to choose a book for her was basically impossible. I mean, there’s like so many titles, by so many writers, and that’s just in the teen section! And knowing Echo, she’s probably read every last one of them anyway. And not wanting to give her a repeat, I decided to bail.

Then just as I was on my way out the door, I spotted this display with like, all these book accessories and stuff, which I know probably sounds stupid since it’s not like people actually dress up their books like you do a doll, I just mean stuff like fancy jeweled and beaded bookmarks and little metal clip-on reading lights and stuff like that. And then just as I was thinking about getting her a bookmark/reading light combo gift set, I noticed this whole other shelf filled with diaries just like the one I’m writing in now!

And I thought, oh my God, that’s it! I’ll get her a diary. I mean, she’s going into eighth grade, and that’s pretty much when all the big drama starts, right? And it might be nice for her to have something private to record it all in, like when she gets her first crush, or first kiss, or starts fighting with Jenay and Abby, or reads a really exciting sentence in one of her books! (Just kidding about the last one because I know it sounds mean.) And since she’s so into reading

and writing and stuff, I figure she’ll probably end up writing in her diary even more than I do mine.

So at first I reached for the cobalt blue one — I guess

I’m just naturally drawn to that color — but then I thought how it’s probably better if she doesn’t have the exact same one as mine. I mean, for starters we’re complete and total opposites which means we don’t share the same taste in color either, and second, can you imagine if we had the exact same ones and then they somehow got switched!

And since that’s the kind of risk I’m just not willing to take, I ended up buying her this really pretty turquoise one.

Still blue, only different, calmer, like Echo. And since I still feel so guilty for never taking her to lunch (even after I promised I would if I survived that first Internet hookup meeting thing with Carly — which obviously I did), I bought some really pretty silver wrapping paper (instead of using old Xmas paper like I usually do), a pretty cobalt blue bow (so she’d know at first sight it’s from me), and then this little vanilla-scented candle to go with it, so that she can close her door, light her candle, and write about all the amazing things that happen in eighth grade.

And then after I came back home and wrapped it all up,

I hid it in the back of my closet, behind my big stack of shoe boxes so she won’t find it. I just hope I don’t forget that it’s there — because you know how it goes, outta sight, outta mind and all that.

I drop the diary and bolt upstairs to Zoë’s room, my hands shaking and my heart racing as I dive straight into her closet, pushing aside the tall stacks of shoe boxes, desecrating a space that’s been preserved for well over a year.

And sure enough, just like she promised, there’s a dark green shopping bag hidden in the back. So I take it over to her bed, where I sit on the edge, anxious to get inside.

But the moment that silver-wrapped box is on my lap, I’m suddenly reluctant to open it. Because this was meant to be unwrapped in a room full of laughter, family, and friends. It was never supposed to happen like this.

Though knowing Zoë, she’d want me to open it no matter what. And since so few of her plans had turned out as she’d hoped, I wasn’t about to disappoint her now.

I remove the bow gently, smiling as I tuck it behind my ear, remembering how Zoë and I always used to do that on Christmas morning, posing together like two Tahitian goddesses, red and green ribbons woven through our hair, while our dad stood before us, taking our picture. Then I slip my finger under the tape, taking more care than usual not to rip the paper as I unfold the edges, lift the lid, and retrieve the diary.