

# Come Play Studios

_Almost Twins_ website: www.southlouisianahighschool.com
Smashwords Edition

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Copyright 2017 by Come Play Studios

All rights reserved.

Published in the United States by Come Play Studios.

www.comeplaystudios.weebly.com

Cover by Rebecca Berto

Interior Design and Formatting:

www.emtippettsbookdesigns.com

First Edition
Table of Contents

Title Page

Books by E.J. Mara

Quote

Excerpt from Andy's Blog

Monday, January 17, 2015

Chapter One- Andy - Skipping School

Chapter Two- Gia - Popular

Chapter Three- Via - Love Sucks

Chapter Four- Andy - The Diary

Tuesday, January 18, 2015

Chapter Five- Gia - Three AM Drama

Chapter Six- Via - Love Is AMAZING!

Chapter Seven- Andy - Who is Tessa Lyles?

Chapter Eight- Gia - Loneliness

Chapter Nine- Via - Desperation

Chapter Ten- Andy - The Tessa Lyles Project

Chapter Eleven- Gia - An Unwanted Pest

Chapter Twelve- Andy - Travel Plans

Chapter Thirteen- Via - Connecticut

Chapter Fourteen- Gia - Responsible Gia

Wednesday, January 19, 2015

Chapter Fifteen- Via - Crystal Lovett

Chapter Sixteen- Andy - Distracting Gia & Finding Via

Chapter Seventeen- Via - Easy V

Chapter Eighteen- Gia - The Rose

Chapter Nineteen- Andy - Serenity Bayous

Chapter Twenty - Gia - The Lunch Date

Chapter Twenty-One- Andy - Weirdness in the Teacher's Lounge

Chapter Twenty-Two- Via - Love is too complicated

Chapter Twenty-Three- Andy - Suspicion

Chapter Twenty-Four - Via - Via + Heath 4ever...?

Chapter Twenty-Five- Gia - Tutoring a Mean Girl

Chapter Twenty-Six- Andy - Andy's Revelation

Chapter Twenty-Seven- Via - Twins

Chapter Twenty-Eight- Gia - Trespassing

Chapter Twenty-Nine- Andy - What do we do about Karin Greenich?

Chapter Thirty - Gia - Being a Big Sister

Thursday, January 20, 2015

Chapter Thirty-One- Via - Aunt Cara

Chapter Thirty-Two- Andy - Weird Cops

Chapter Thirty-Three- Gia - The Incident

Chapter Thirty-Four- Andy - The Showdown

Friday, January 21, 2015

Chapter Thirty-Five- Via - The Truth

Several Weeks Later

Epilogue - Gia

Epilogue- Via

Epilogue- Andy

What's next?

Acknowledgements

Copyright Notice

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The South Louisiana High Series

**Identity - The Origin** **Story**

Karen, Nathaniel, & Tessa's Story

**Almost Friends - Book One**

Mia, Kyle, & Elizabeth's Story

**Almost Twins - Book Two**

Andy, Gia, & Via's Story

**Almost Famous - Book Three**

The Other LA- Drew's Story

**Almost Brave - Book Four**

Gina's Story

**Almost Human - Book Five**

Lanie & Silv's Story
A real friend sees you at your worst and loves you all the more.

-Anonymous

#

# Title of Post: Everyone is Your Almost Twin

I'm kind of a genius. Not when it comes to math, English, history, science, or everyday social skills. But if you were to give me the footage from a movie called Camera Aimed at Blank Wall for 90 Minutes, I'd turn every shot into cinematic gold.

I've been writing and directing my own films since I was eight years old and now that I'm fourteen, my YouTube channel, "Andy's Films," has over a thousand subscribers. I get comments like, "You'll win an Academy Award before you can legally drink," on the daily.

So, as previously mentioned, I am a genius. Unfortunately, every superwoman has her kryptonite. My ultimate weakness is not understanding the way people work- as in, socially. For example, it took me a solid six months to figure out that everyone is our "almost twin."

What am I talking about? To understand, you'll need a brief update on the history between my older sister, Gia, and her best friend, Via Nguyen:

I wasn't thrilled when the two of them hit it off. After all, I'd been lucky enough to have Gia as a best friend since the day I was born. Even though she's a year older than me (plus a thousand times smarter, classier, and more normal), we were automatic besties and we did nearly everything together.

But things changed when I turned ten and Gia started her first year of middle school. I was wrapped up in some movie I was trying to direct and Gia was all about making friends at her new school. So, for the first time in our history, we moved in separate social spheres. I hung out with kids from school--bribing them to act in my homemade movie--while Gia discovered the wonders of Dr. Who (so I guess she's not completely normal), boys, and fashion. Still, I assumed that my position as her right-hand woman would remain unchanged.

But one horrible afternoon, my dethroning was made undeniably clear. I'd been hard at work, editing my latest film. I decided it was time for a break and I sauntered into our kitchen, headed for the refrigerator. I found the kitchen occupied by Gia and Mom. Gia leaned on the counter, whining to Mom while Mom loaded the dishwasher.

"But, Mom," Gia wailed. "She's my best friend!"

At the sound of "best friend," I frowned and gave my sister a look. "Hello? I'm right here," I said as I pointed at myself. "Why are you talking about me like I'm not even in the room?"

"Andy, we're not talking about you," Mom explained. "Gia wants to know why she can't spend the night at her best friend's house, even though I keep telling her I need to meet this girl and her parents before I okay anything like that."

The words "best friend" flew at me like daggers.

Appalled, I forced myself to listen to my sister's nonsensical ramblings about her "best friend." And, in so doing, I discovered two facts:

  1. The new friend was called Via Nguyen.

  2. She went to Gia's school.

At this, I immediately stole away to our bedroom to google "Via Nguyen." In seconds, I found Via's fashion blog, which also had a page dedicated to all things Whovian. I stared at the picture of Dr. Who's Tardis--which was right splat in the middle of her webpage--and silently accepted the likelihood of this girl stealing my sister's friendship right out from under me.

The next day, when Via came to our house, my anxiety sky-rocketed. I'll never forget the moment my mom opened the door, revealing my sister's "best friend."

I gasped in horror.

Via Nguyen was, basically, a Selena Gomez clone. Her clothes screamed, "We're so expensive! Look at us! Can't you see how expensive we are? That's right--keep looking at us until your eyes hurt from jealousy and you turn to drinking because it's all you'll ever have!" Her long, dark hair was perfect, she was hilariously loud, endearingly hyper, and my sister adored her.

I had no choice but to throw in the towel. There was no way Gia would choose friendship with her annoying little sister over Asian Selena Gomez.

I stalked off to my parent's room to ask Dad if I could use his camera. Two hours later, Dad's little red camera in hand and my next YouTube vlog post uploaded (it was entitled, "Why I Hate Hyperactive Selena Gomez Wannabes"), I traipsed to our living room and guess who I saw on our couch?

Via and my little sister, Lula, watching an old episode of Sam & Cat while they laughed like a pair of hyenas, big fat tears streaming down their cheeks. My initial reaction was anger because WTH?! Was this friend-stealer going after my little sister too?

Via's howling laughter continued and my younger sister's squeaky giggles added to the air of insanity permeating our living room. And that's when it hit me. This stylish sister-stealer was watching Sam & Cat, and laughing. At this, I reassessed Via Nguyen and found myself grinning wickedly.

There was no way my sister, the founder of her school's Louisiana's Republican Teens Club, would remain friends with a girl who thought Sam & Cat was hilarious. All I had to do was sit back and wait for their baseless friendship to implode. Relieved, I nearly skipped out of the living room.

Well, six months later, I no longer had the urge to skip out of living rooms because their friendship was still intact. In fact, Via had already been to our house at least eighty billion times and I'd recently heard she and my sister solemnly discussing the fact that when they grow up, Gia would have to marry Via's older brother so the two of them could be actual sisters.

I was not only beyond annoyed because I had a huge crush on Via's older brother, but I was confused to the infinite degree. I kept wondering how two completely different people could be such good friends.

The next day, I found the answer. (Yes, this is a long story, I know. Just bear with me--I'll get to the point soon.) I was attempting to complete my history homework while the two besties hung out on Gia's side of our room. I'd reread the same sentence twenty times, unsuccessful in my attempts to tune out their giggling. Finally, I gave up and took to watching them.

Via was munching on toffee candy while she sat cross-legged on my sister's bed. Meanwhile, Gia leaned back against her numerous pillows and tapped her pencil against the math worksheet she was supposed to be doing.

"Would you really?" Gia asked, her blue eyes wide.

As usual, they were talking about some boy who went to their school.

Via ran her fingers through her perfectly layered hair. Her eyes were full of mischief as she replied, "Totally, if--"

My sister laughingly interrupted Via and pointed to her. "You're getting candy in your hair."

"Tào lao," Via shrieked. "I need to wash my hands."

"What's tào lao mean?" Gia asked.

Via slid off of the bed and grinned as she said, "It means we need the gift of the Tardis."

I watched the two of them, utterly confused. I knew the "Tardis" was the phone booth thingy Dr. Who traveled in, but what it had to do with translating Vietnamese was beyond me.

They confused me even more when they both put on English accents and began speaking in unison, "The telepathic field gets inside your brain, translates."

Then they burst out laughing. At that point, I'd had enough. I left the room.

In the relative peace of our hallway I leaned against the wall and let my gaze go to the photo-cluttered wall in front of me. In the middle of our photo collage was one of my favorite shots of Mom and Dad. With Disney World's Cinderella Castle in the background, Mom stood on her tiptoes, her eyes closed as she kissed Dad on the cheek. Dad, meanwhile, wore a sober yet pleased expression above his folded arms.

I loved that picture. It showed my parents for who they were: romantic, happy, and two very different people who were somehow a perfect fit for each other. Even on the outside they were different. Dad's southern Italian olive-skin and swarthy coloring were in sharp contrast to Mom's fair French-Irish complexion. And their differences didn't stop there.

Personality-wise, Mom was the gregarious one who made you feel understood and loved. On the other hand, my Dad was introverted and more expressive in the way he played the piano than in the way he spoke to actual humans. Despite their differences, Mom and Dad rarely argued.

I frowned as I considered this.

It was like their differences complemented instead of conflicted. Mom got more relaxed when she was in Dad's presence, as if she knew she didn't have to be "on" around him. Likewise, when Dad was around her, he'd peek out of his shy-man-shell.

From our bedroom behind me, I heard Via shriek and shout, "Dude, I swear we're almost twins!"

Almost twins? As soon as I heard those words, I knew Via was right. She and Gia finished each other's sentences, made each other laugh, liked a lot of the same television shows (not Sam & Cat), and while my sister gave Via stability, Via made my sister smile. They'd given each other a chance and because of this they'd discovered, not only friendship, but an "almost twin."

Since then, I've thought about this a lot and I think we can find our "almost twin" in anyone. If we let our guard down and get to know someone, we'll inevitably see their resemblance to us.

Don't get me wrong. It's not like I now think of Via as my "almost twin." But I have to admit that she and my sister taught me the importance of giving other people a chance- even when I don't expect to have anything in common with them.

So, that's what I've decided to do during my first year at South Louisiana High. Whether someone's a seemingly ditzy cheerleader or even nerdier than my sister, I'm going to give them a chance and get to know them because chances are, we have something in common. Besides, once I've buttered them up I can persuade them to be in one of my movies.

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# _Skipping School_

Freedom is kind of a big deal. Not even kind of- it is a big deal. In fact, freedom makes life worth living. Take my life, for example:

Before Mr. Harold's prepaid yellow cab met me in front of South Louisiana High, I was living (duh), but I didn't feel alive. I kept catching myself looking down at the wrist watch Mom gave me before she died and blinking back tears. That's always a bad sign.

But as soon as I ditched school and jumped into Mr. Harold's taxi, I sort of forgot about Mom's watch. I was free and I felt alive. As we drove along and I watched the passing scenery from the splotchy window of that musty old cab, the grass and trees seemed more verdant, the clouds seemed fluffier, and the sunshine more golden than it'd been before I skipped school.

Don't get me wrong, I like school. The other students are interesting to observe and everything that happens within South Louisiana High's mold-infested walls is fodder for a budding screenwriter/director. But I bet the same could be said of being in jail. Despite this, I've never heard of aspiring screenwriters lining up to go live in jail for the sake of their creativity. So, it's perfectly understandable why I occasionally need a break from my scholarly jail. Freedom is the best inspiration for a mind like mine.

I explained this to Mr. Harold as he let me out in front of Alyssum Studios and he just shook his head and chuckled. I get that kind of reaction from most adults.

Anyhow, now that I've made my way inside of Alyssum Studios, I toy with Mom's oversized watch and look around at the huge production company's second floor. Of course it still looks exactly like it did the last time I was here. The only difference is that this time, I'm nervous.

"...and this is the Alyssum Fitness Center," our tour guide, Brian, explains. He stops in front of the fitness center's double glass doors and opens one. "Amelia Hearth wants every Alyssum employee in peak physical condition, which is why she personally designed this state of the art fitness center..."

Our tour group filters into the fitness center and I shift my attention to Brian, watching him hold the door open. He goes on and on with his boring spiel, continuing to look out into his audience of tourists.

Anxious, I shift on my feet.

Come on, dude, look away so I can sneak out of this tour group...

But no, Mr. Blabbady-Blah continues to yammer on, "You'll find it contains seven treadmills, a hyper extension bench, and a leg press machine. There's also a..."

Yeah, yeah, a Pilates class that meets every Monday through Friday at 6:30 AM...I silently finish the dull sentence for him.

I've only toured Alyssum Studios four times and I can already finish every one of Brian's mind-numbing sentences. You'd think he'd change his speech every now and then.

"Excuse me." An older, dark-skinned lady in a light pink and gold sari pauses in stride as she approaches one of the fitness center's glass doors. "Can people who aren't Alyssum employees take the Pilates class?"

Good, a distraction! My heart skips a beat as Brian turns to the woman.

I steal out of the line of tourists and hurry to the bathroom that's just ahead and on the right. It's next to the elevators, which is perfect.

After I changed into my disguise, I'll need to return to the first floor, grab an introduction to Amelia Hearth, and then get back to school all in forty-five minutes. If I'm not back at SLH before the last bell, my older sister Gia won't just murder me, she'll nag endlessly--which is worse than being murdered.

I close the bathroom door behind me and my tennis shoes squeak against the marble floor as I head to the sinks. I slip my backpack off, set it on the counter, and glance in the mirror.

My God, I look so much like Gia right now.

I pull my hair back and check myself out minus my curly blond halo. Yep, the resemblance is undeniable.

When Mom was still alive, she'd point to pictures of me and Gia as toddlers and say we could've passed for twins. I guess we still can; we've got the same blue eyes and the same small nose like Mom's. But my mouth is a little bigger than Gia's--in more ways than one.

I grab a rubber band from my backpack, pull it around my hair and tame my Italian fro into a tight bun at the back of my head. Once the bun is in place, I reach into my backpack, dig past my camera, and grab the curly black wig I packed this morning. Thanks to this wig, there's no way Brian will recognize me and make me return to that boring tour group.

After pulling my new tresses on over the bun, I retrieve the tweed blazer I borrowed from our drama department's costume closet. I'm pretty sure Ms. Karin (she's our school's drama teacher) won't mind me borrowing it--she's cool like that.

I slip the blazer on over my t-shirt, asses my reflection and nod, satisfied. I look like a young professional. I'll definitely pass as one of Alyssum's interns. It's weird that I haven't seen any interns yet today. The last time I toured Alyssum they were everywhere.

Just one final detail and then I'm good to go. I open the front zipper of my book bag and grab the Alyssum Studios INTERN badge I've borrowed from one of my YouTube fans, Mindee. (Mindee also happens to be a former Alyssum Studios intern who was happy to help when she found out I wanted to meet Amelia Hearth.)

I examine myself in the mirror one last time and a shiver of excitement claims my spine.

I am "Mindee," one of Alyssum Studios' best Interns.

I sling my backpack on over my shoulders and push through the bathroom doors. Without glancing back at the tour group I've ditched, I head to the elevators.

IN THE ELEVATOR lobby area, I press the down arrow a second time.

Why is this elevator so slow?

I decide to pass the time by silently reviewing my questions for Amelia Hearth:

(1) How many scripts did you write until you finally wrote a good one, and (2) what techniques do you use to make your actors comfortable?

Even though I have two questions, if Amelia looks busy I'll only ask her the second question. It's the more important of the two.

I'm a decent writer and I'm awesome with a camera, but I am terrible at directing actors.

I don't have a problem directing the cast of my YouTube reality series, AniMalls. But that's because the show is unscripted. The SLH cheerleaders who I follow around the mall with my camera only have to act like themselves. But, when I film something with a script and actors who actually need to be directed, I screw it up. You'd think I'm some kind of monster, the way I make actors nervous. So, I'm hoping Amelia will spare even just fifteen seconds to give me some advice.

The elevator chimes and my pulse goes into overdrive. I can't believe I'm actually going to meet her!

The silver doors slide open, revealing its passengers- two uniformed Alyssum Studios security guards.

Crap.

Despite my nerves, I fake a smile and step aside to let them exit the elevator. "Afternoon. How's it going?"

One guard nods a silent greeting while the other mumbles, "Hello."

They walk away without another word, thank God and I barely avoid a heart attack. I've heard stories about how mean Alyssum security guards can be and I don't want to be on the receiving end of their wrath.

I step inside and press the button for the first floor.

It's happening. I'm seconds away from meeting Amelia Hearth! A smile tugs at my lips while the elevator slinks down to the first floor. I've dreamed of meeting Amelia since first grade. She, Sofia Coppola, and Christopher Nolan are my favorite directors. I'm going to find a way to meet all three of them before I'm eighteen.

My dad says that's farfetched seeing as we live in Swamp Rose, Louisiana. He says those kinds of directors would have little reason to come here. But, I say, who would've thought that a famous director like Amelia would build a production company right here in Swamp Rose? That just proves nothing's impossible until you're dead...and even then--cryogenics! Freeze your body right before you die, have yourself thawed two hundred years later--at a time when medicine is so advanced that whatever would have killed you likely has a cure--and BAM, you're back in the game of possibilities! Like I said, nothing is impossible!

The elevator chimes and its doors open.

For a moment I just stand there, taking in the sight of Alyssum Studios' front entrance.

I like to do this sometimes- to just let the grandeur of it all wash over me. Like, if a Hans Zimmer score were transformed into a feat of architecture and interior design, it would be Alyssum Studios' front entrance. Tall windows behind the reception area allow sunlight to filter in and bathe the marble and oak accented room in afternoon's golden light.

I take a deep breath, shift my heavy backpack on my shoulders, and step into the beauty. While the elevator doors slide shut behind me, I turn to the empty reception desk and thank my lucky stars it's abandoned. Usually, one of Alyssum's scary security guards is stationed at that reception desk.

I hurry across Alyssum's fancy corridor with its marble floor and step into the hallway where royal blue carpet leads the way to Amelia's office. According to Mindee, Amelia's office is in Room 116. So, it shouldn't be long until I see it.

I turn to the movie posters lining the walls and slow in stride.

Holy mothers of Themyscira, these are posters from all of Amelia's films!

I want to stop and fangirl, but I don't have the time. I resist the urge, quicken my pace, and scamper down the hallway.

The first Amelia Hearth film I fell in love with was Sinderella with an S. Obviously, it's a spin on the classic Cinderella fairy tale (duh). And it's actually a super creepy movie; Cinderella wasn't your average heroine who hung out with cute birds and talking mice. Instead, she was an ax-murdery, vengeful slut. By the end of the movie, she'd stolen her step-sister's boyfriend, changed her name to Sin, and killed a ton of people. But, it was beautifully directed and the cinematography was breathtaking.

I follow the hallway around a corner and spot a security camera. At the sight of it, I stop dead in my tracks. Uh oh. I forgot about the cameras. How did I forget about the cameras?! Ugh.

My phone, which is nestled in the front pocket of my backpack, chimes and I jump, startled. I reset it to vibrate and see that the text I've received is from one of my AniMall's stars, Mia Reeves:

I signed you in at Gym & told ur other teachers ur in the photo lab working on the school website all day. But I heard ur sister was looking for you at lunch, she could screw everything up. Want me to tell her you were with me during lunch?

Sighing, I roll my eyes.

I love my sister, but she's crazy. She thinks the word "older sister" is a synonym for "over-protective bodyguard." She's been like that ever since Mom died, and lately she's gotten even worse.

I type my reply: Nah, I'll take care of my sister. Thx, see u later.

And then, because I'm a genius, I compose another text... Gia, why didn't you save me a seat at lunch??? I looked everywhere for you in the caf, I wanted half of your sandwich!

... and send it to my sister.

There, taken care of. Just one more call, and then I'm on my way to meet Amelia.

I call Mr. Harold- the cab driver who I made sure to tip well and befriend on my way to Alyssum- and glance across the hall at Amelia's office. I still can't believe I'm only minutes away from meeting Amelia Hearth!

"Yeah?" A baritone voice barks.

"Hi, Mr. Harold. This is Andy. My tour's just about over and I was wondering if you were outside?"

"Yeah," he says, his voice softening. "I'm here, just come on out whenever you're ready."

"Thank you. I'll be there soon."

I hang up, return the phone to my book bag, and take a deep breath.

Okay, here goes everything.

I glance at the security camera. It's facing Amelia's office. That means I'll only have a few minutes before the guard who's monitoring her cameras sees me and that means I'll have to get my questions in really fast.

My hands shaking, I approach the famous filmmaker's office. Her door flies open before I've even touched it.

She steps out of her office and I nearly pee my pants.

It's. Her.

Amelia Hearth stands before me and even though she's only 5'2', the woman is hella intimidating. I think it has something to do with the fact that her sharp blue eyes are boring into mine like razors.

I'm frozen. All I can do is stand here and stare at her.

Amelia squints. "Is there a problem?"

I extend a shaky hand. "No, ma'am, there's no problem. My name is Andrea Moretti and I'm an intern." Amelia doesn't move to shake my hand. She doesn't even look at my hand. Instead, she arches one of her blonde eyebrows and continues to stare at me like I've just told her I've run over her dog on purpose.

I bring my hand back to my side and shift on my feet. "I have two quick questions, uh...actually, one quick question about filmmaking I'd like to ask. And I promise I won't take much of your--"

Amelia lifts one of her hands in a gesture that says, 'silence, mortal!' With this, she speaks in her slightly hard-of-hearing voice, "We suspended the intern program a week ago, for this exact reason."

Oh, God.

Nerves course through me. "I, um, I lied," I sputter. "I'm not an intern. I'm only fourteen. I snuck in because I'm a big fan and I just wanted to meet you."

"How adorable," Amelia speaks calmly, but her tone is pure ice. "I'm going to do you the favor of giving you a two minute head start before I send my guards to--" At the sound of heavy footsteps coming down the hall, Amelia pauses mid-sentence. We both turn to the noise and a tall, good-looking man who I immediately recognize as Amelia's boyfriend, Grant Carr, (the tabloids call him "Shy Carr" because he's always trying to hide from the paparazzi's cameras) is jogging our way.

"Amelia!" Grant glances at me before returning his attention to her. "We need you now; it's an emergency."

An emergency?

I back away from Amelia, but I don't leave. It's not every day that I get a front-row seat to an "emergency" involving an Academy Award winner.

"Don't we always have an emergency?" Amelia gruffly replies. She turns to her office and opens the door. "Tell someone to throw out my trash. I just wasted two hours on the most rubbish scripts. I don't even want to see them in my garbage when I get back to my office."

My ears perk up. Scripts in her trash?

"What did you think about the prop for that scene--" Grant starts.

"Hated it; threw it out," Amelia says, cutting him off. With this, she turns to me and shouts, "You!"

I freeze as Amelia's narrowed eyes meet mine. Her boyfriend looks at me with unveiled curiosity. "Who's she?" he asks.

Amelia ignores Grant's question and speaks to me, "You have exactly sixty seconds before I call security. And I'd better never see you on Alyssum Studios property again." At this, she turns away and Grant hurries to catch up with her.

My heart pounding, I glare at Amelia's narrow back while she walks away. The more I stare, the more my nerves morph into a mix of anger and disappointment.

What a jerk! How can someone who makes such beautiful films be such an insensitive tool? When I'm a director, I'll never be like that. I'll appreciate my fans.

I'm breathing like I've just run a marathon, so I take a deep breath and try to calm down.

I can't believe how badly that went. Geez.

I glance at Amelia's office and the door is still ajar.

So, not only is the woman a tool, but she's careless. Don't leave your office door ajar when an obsessed fan is right there itching to sneak in. Duh, Amelia.

I glance over my shoulder, ensuring that she's already rounded the corner.

She has.

I slip into her office and look around.

Midnight blue walls surround a massive titanium desk situated in front of an open window that's decorated by thick black curtains.

As I watch the black curtains blow in the wind, I accept the disturbing fact that one of my biggest idols has the personality and taste of Voldemort.

I sigh and make my way to Amelia's trash can. As promised, it's full of scripts. Stooping, I reach inside and grab a thick script entitled, "Finding Stories in the Rain: Songs of my Beloved Great Aunt Bertha."

I snort.

Why'd Amelia even bother to read this one? When the title's a billion words long, that's a dead giveaway that the script is an epic fail. I'm fourteen and I know that.

I slip off my backpack and stuff the script inside. Reading crap can be just as educational as reading treasure.

I peer into Amelia's silver trash can, searching for anything else that might come in handy. There's a crumpled gingersnap cookie wrapper and a small instructional booklet entitled, "How to Use Your Cryo-Tube."

Cryopreservation?! Cool. This must have been a prop for a movie or something!

I grab the booklet and stuff it into my backpack.

I'll give it one more go and then I'm outta here.

I reach into the trash one last time and pause at the sight of a small leather bound book that's half-covered by two more gingersnap cookie wrappers.

This looks promising...

I push past the cookie wrappers and grab the book. The leather is pretty worn, so if it's a prop, it's certainly been made to look old. I start to open it, but heavy footsteps sound just outside of Amelia's door.

I shove the leather book into my backpack, slip the bag on over my shoulders, and hurry for the opened window behind Amelia's desk.

"There was a kid poking around in here," says a deep voice on the other side of her door.

Oh, snap.

I place one foot on the window's ledge and panic as Amelia's office door creaks open. I hurl myself out of the window and try not to cry out as I fall and then crash, butt-first, into the alyssum bushes below.

My wig and glasses tumble away to the innermost parts of the bush. I scramble to get to my feet.

Well, I guess this could've been worse; Amelia's office could have been on the fourth floor.

I squint at my blurry surroundings and curse under my breath. I need my glasses. Stooping, I paw through the bushes for the stupid things. Without those glasses, I can barely see. The smooth metal of their arms poke at my fingers. Relieved, I mutter, "Thank God," and slip them back on.

"Halt!" a male voice shouts from behind me. "You there, halt!"

Did he seriously just say halt?

If I weren't so scared, I'd laugh. Who, in their right mind uses a word like halt? Did we fall into a crack within the space-time continuum and somehow end up in the nineteenth century?

I turn to the shouting Alyssum guard.

He's a big guy, at about 6' tall with biceps that are, basically, the size of my head.

"Halt," he repeats. I take a closer look at him. Something isn't quite right about the expression on his face. Though his features are contorted into a scowl, his eyes are, like... dead. It's the same way my little sister's eyes look when she's sleep-walking.

Is this dude high or something?

"Why did you just climb out of that window?" he asks in a bizarrely monotone voice.

Well, let's hope this weirdo is a stoned as he looks.

"What are you talking about?" I bat my eyes and feign innocence. "I didn't climb out of a window."

"You did, I saw you. You are an intruder," he protests. While Weirdo Guard continues his deadpan rant, I glance left and see that the path leading to Alyssum's front entrance is only a few feet away.

Weirdo Guard starts towards me and I realize I'm going to have to make a run for it.

So, that's what I do.

As soon as I take off, he shouts, "Halt at once! Halt!"

I run as fast as I can and laugh like a villain in a terribly directed movie. Is it completely crazy of me to laugh right now? Probably. Because if I don't outrun this guard, I will not only be grounded for the rest of my life, but Amelia might have me arrested for trespassing or something. But so help me God, this is exciting! There's no way I would have had this much fun if I'd stayed in school today.

Out of breath, I approach Mr. Harold's waiting taxi and open the door. "Go! Go now," I shout.

As we pull away from Alyssum Studios, Mr. Harold asks what's going on. I don't reply, I just look behind me and grin.

That. Was. So. Awesome.

#

#

# _Popular_

Lately, I've been melancholy. The problem is I spend too much time thinking about the people I miss: my mother, my father, and my best friend, Via.

Well, Via isn't exactly gone. But things are different between us. We used to have the most incredible sleepovers. We'd stay up all night, whispering and giggling about the boys we had secret crushes on. These days Via rarely even speaks to me and her crushes are no secret. They're more like scandals, each becoming an "encounter" for our entire school to gossip about.

My dad isn't gone either. But I miss seeing him happy. It wasn't like he used to walk around wearing a huge smile. That wasn't his style. He's always been a fairly low-key guy. Very quiet, very musical. I used to love coming home from school to the sound of him at the piano, playing one of his favorite Thelonious Monk pieces. Now, when I get in from school our house is silent. We had to sell the piano last summer. We needed the money. And Dad works more these days, so he's never home when we get in from school.

My mother is actually gone. She died three years ago. I miss everything about her. The big things, like the way she'd cook these huge, delicious dinners for us every Sunday night. And I miss the little things, like resting my head on her shoulder and knowing it'd be moments before she'd lean over, kiss my forehead, and whisper, "Stop worrying, Gia." She always did that. And it always worked. I'd stop worrying.

Obviously, I have a Shakespearean tragedy of a life. But the abovementioned calamities aren't what I'm pining away for at this specific moment. Instead, as I sit here in Geometry class, the one thing I'm daydreaming about, craving for, and falling into some kind of melancholic depression over is popularity.

I want my classmates to notice me when I walk in the room. I want them to look up and smile at me. I want them to ask, "Gia, what's up?" and care enough to listen when I respond. In high school, people only care when you're popular.

Does wanting that make me shallow?

I bite down on my bottom lip and consider this.

No. I'm not shallow. After all, I do miss the more important aspects of my life that have changed. I miss them so much it hurts. But it's just that sometimes -like when you're sitting in a crowded classroom surrounded by peers who all seem to look right through you- well, at that point you'd give anything to feel less alone.

It wasn't always this way. There was a time when I was popular. Ages ago- back in first grade. I was a member of an envied foursome. Our clique was elementary school royalty. We'd use recess to declare our status by holding hands and skipping around the playground chanting in unison, "We are Bratz girls, we are Bratz girls..."

In retrospect this was a bizarre tradition, but it was our tradition and we loved it. Our group consisted of myself, a fellow first grader named Megs Little, and two older girls- a second grader named Elizabeth O'Brien, and a third grader, Mia Reeves.

But a few years later, something went awry. For reasons that I still don't understand, I was abruptly kicked out of the group.

I've thought about it a lot and I think the problem was the way I consistently reminded Mia to stop being politically incorrect when she talked about people of other races. And then there was the time I told on her and Elizabeth for smoking cigarettes in the girl's bathroom... In any case, I lost my privileged place in the group and I was replaced by a new girl named Kyle Pham.

I'd like to say that I hate Kyle Pham, but no one in their right mind would hate Kyle Pham. How can you hate someone who's perfect?

I'd also like to say that this sad story of being kicked out of the group called "popular" is just a bunch of juvenile drama from a billion years ago. But I can't ignore how I feel. Deep down, I still want them to take me back.

Well, no. That's not entirely accurate. I'd be satisfied if they simply acknowledged my existence.

Now, Elizabeth O'Brien sits at my right, masticating as loudly as humanly possible on her bubble gum. I turn to glare at her.

I don't really want to be friends with the likes of Elizabeth O'Brien, I just want her to notice me and- Dear God, can she not hear herself?!

The loud chewing doesn't even allow me to complete my thoughts.

I stare at Elizabeth.

Apparently, she's deaf to her own ruckus because she just continues to sit there chomping on her gum like a deranged cow while she looks down at her phone, blatantly ignoring our teacher's lecture!

I shake my head. How disgusting.

It's no wonder Elizabeth is an eleventh grader in a tenth grade math class; she's been using this entire hour to read text messages instead of pay attention.

Elizabeth now blows a large, pink bubble. It pops with a snap. I cringe as she slurps the bubble's remnants back into her mouth.

What if I politely ask her to stop smacking so loudly? Surely that wouldn't upset her. After all, we used to be friends in Elementary School.

I glance at Elizabeth's black t-shirt, which has the words "Bite Me" written in stark white across its front. The sight of it brings back the memory of Elizabeth's reaction upon learning that I'd ratted she and Mia out for smoking in the girl's bathroom. She'd plowed her small fist into my stomach. It left a bruise for a week.

I decide that my best option is to ignore the noise and so I promptly return my attention to our geometry teacher. Mr. Bolton points to the notes he's written and says, "The bulk of the test will be problems like these. Problems you'll need to know formulas to solve, but you'll also see..."

My thoughts drift to my younger sister, Andy. I haven't seen her since 8:30 this morning.

I glance at the clock just beyond Mr. Bolton's right shoulder.

It's now 2:25 PM.

I hope Andy didn't skip school to go see that new Sofia Coppola movie for the fifty-billionth time. Or to go see that Kami Davis reporter-woman at the local news station.

That's Andy's latest thing- to spend nearly every free second she has at the news station, researching "conspiracy theories" to vlog about. She befriended Kami Davis, and so now Kami will even air a few of Andy's stories. My sister can be incredibly persuasive when she thinks she's right about something.

Andy's latest conspiracy theory is a myth about our town's "invisible super hero," Unseen. Over the years, a few crazies who've gotten themselves into perilous situations have claimed that an invisible man saved their lives. Andy is, unfortunately, one such believer in the existence of "Unseen." For such a smart girl, my sister can also be surprisingly gullible. The idea of an invisible man acting like a superhero is insane. With the exception of God and the wind, who believes in what they can't see?

My phone vibrates, startling me.

I glance at Mr. Bolton. He toys with the top button of his gray sweater vest as he continues to lecture, "So you'd probably see a shape with sides labeled as A, B, C, D, and so forth..."

He won't notice if I check my phone.

I turn my attention to the text. It's from Andy. Relief floods over me.

Gia why didn't you save me a seat at lunch??? I looked everywhere for you in the caf, I wanted half of your sandwich!

So, she was here. Thank God she didn't skip school again.

I type a quick reply:

I'm so paranoid, I thought you ditched school again! Sorry about lunch, I wasn't in the cafeteria.

"Miss O'Brien, please throw your gum away," Mr. Bolton says. I praise God for this small miracle and return my attention to my teacher. "Now, class- if you were to see a multiple choice question regarding features of the mid-segment of a trapezoid, you'd immediately recall what two features? Anyone?"

Mr. Bolton's question is followed by silence, save the noise of my classmates gathering their belongings in anticipation of the bell.

I turn around and glare at them. Can't they see that Mr. Bolton is still trying to teach? While turned around, I catch sight of Elizabeth mashing her gum into the underside of her desk.

Really? My Lord. How trashy can someone be?

Elizabeth looks up and meets my eyes.

I quickly turn away from her and raise my hand.

Mr. Bolton smiles as he points to me. "Yes. Gia?"

"The mid-segment of a trapezoid is parallel to both bases and has length equal to the average of the length of the bases."

Mr. Bolton's smile widens and pride surges through me. "Excellent, Gia," he says with a nod. "You see, class..."

I smooth down my dress, return his grin, and wait until he looks away to glance at the clock.

2:30 exactly. Good. Mr. Bolton is nice and I like geometry, but I'm more than ready for this day to be over.

The bell rings.

I grab my phone and shove it into my purse when a fist comes down on my desk. Startled, I jump. I look up and Elizabeth--the owner of the fist--chuckles as she repositions her backpack on her shoulders and arches an eyebrow at me. "You're jumpy."

I fake a smile, grab my books, and stand. "No, I'm not."

"Okay." She smirks and rolls her eyes. With this, she reaches into the pocket of her unbelievably tight pants and retrieves yet another stick of bubble gum. "If you're free at lunch, could you maybe, like, tutor me? Me and Math aren't getting along this semester and I don't want to fail."

I smile. This is perfect!

Well... the idea of spending time with Elizabeth O'Brien isn't in itself "perfect" as I'm sure I'll have to put up with her loud gum-smacking. But spending time with any of our school's popular girls is like being handed the key to my chains. It's the opportunity for freedom from invisibility!

"Sure." I grab my purse and slip it on my shoulder. "How about we hang out at lunch tomorrow and then maybe again this weekend? Then we could give it a solid three, four hours."

Elizabeth's eyes widen and she stares at me like I've just announced my Kepler 22b origins and sprouted a second head.

"Wow," she says, her eyebrows lowering into a frown. "You must really love math." Her tone conveys that this a bad thing. I clear my throat as nerves snake their way across my stomach. I must be coming across as uber-geek.

"Well, I wouldn't go that far," I lie and smooth down my dress. "So, do you need my number to call me about tutoring?"

Elizabeth purses her lips, watching me through narrowed blue eyes. "Sure."

The black mascara she's smeared on her long lashes is clumpy, which means it must be the cheap kind. This makes me feel better. I may not be "popular" or "have more than two friends," but at least I know better than to purchase cheap mascara.

I reach into my purse and retrieve the business cards Andy made for me last summer.

"You have business cards," Elizabeth observes, her tone deadpan.

"I sure do."

"Gia?" Mr. Bolton says from behind me.

I hand Elizabeth a card. "Pardon me." She's still staring at me like I'm an alien and I stifle a sigh as I turn to Mr. Bolton. "Yes, sir?"

He takes off his glasses and rubs his eyes. "I'm not feeling well and there's a student I usually tutor on Mondays. Is there any way you could lead his tutoring session today?"

I quietly calculate how much time it'll take, with traffic, for me to get to my baby sister's daycare. "Um, yes, but I can only stay for fifteen minutes."

Mr. Bolton exhales. "Thank you, Gia. You're a life saver."

"It's no problem, I..." I hesitate and glance in Elizabeth's direction. She's gone. Good.

"You what?" Mr. Bolton looks at me expectantly.

"I love math," I confess.

Mr. Bolton chuckles and abruptly stops. He grimaces and says, "This migraine is going to be a killer, I can already tell. I'm going to head out. Thanks again, Gia. Rodney should be here any minute."

Rodney?

My heart skips a beat even as it glides past my spleen and slides into my stomach.

"Are you referring to Rodney Parker?" I whisper, praying that Mr. Bolton will say no and explain that he means a different Rodney.

"Yes, Rodney Parker," Mr. Bolton says, heading to the door.

Crap. Crap. Craaaaaap!

I plop my purse and books back down on my desk, grab my phone, and furiously compose a text to Andy: HEEELLLLLLPPPPP! I got roped into tutoring Rodney Parker. You HAVE TO come to Mr. Bolten's class and save me ASAP!

"See you later, Gia," Mr. Bolton calls as he heads out.

I look up, poised to say goodbye and in walks Rodney.

Lord, give me strength...

I exhale and run a hand along the lacy fabric of my dress.

Rodney Parker has a bit of a crush on me, which is flattering, but it also... well, I don't know- it simply complicates matters. And the complication has nothing to do with Rodney's looks. He's not ugly. In fact, there are moments when I've made eye contact with him and found myself unable to look away. On those occasions I've figuratively allowed myself to become "lost in his eyes." But this does not mean I'm attracted to him. That sort of thing can happen to anyone. If anyone were to stare into a pair of nice-looking eyes for a hair past three seconds, they'd quite naturally begin to notice pleasant nuances -such as the way light catches the iris's hazel undertones, making them quietly beautiful... which is sort of an apt description of Rodney himself, when you think about it... Rodney is shy and thoughtful, which some people might call "quietly beautiful." Not that I would call him that. But if I'm being completely honest, as far as "looks" go, Rodney is a bit... what's the appropriate word? Well, I suppose the only fitting word is hot. Not that he is hot, but he could be if he just... wait a minute, why am I even thinking about this? What was my point?

My mouth is dry and my underarms are beginning to sweat. I clear my throat and discreetly lift my arms to let them breathe.

Oh, now I remember my point! My point was that I could never be with Rodney because it would be too complicated. Confessing the details of this complication may color me as a heartless jerk, but whatever. The fact of the matter is that I cannot date Rodney Parker because I want to be popular and Rodney Parker is a nobody. Between his terrible fashion sense and the way he consistently stares down at his shoes, saying no more than two sentences a day, he has zero status at South Louisiana High. Were I to attach myself to a nobody with zero status, my popularity ranking would plunge even further into the depths of high school hell.

Now, Rodney catches my eye and grins nervously, looking as though he's going to pass out.

My gaze goes to his dirty tennis shoes and faded high waters.

What is he thinking when he looks in the mirror before he leaves his house in the mornings? Is he aiming for the "homeless" look?

"Hi, Gia." His smile widens, displaying straight white teeth. "Thanks for staying to help me with math."

"No problem." I politely return his smile. "Ready to talk about trapezoids?"

Rodney sets his book bag on the floor and slides into the desk beside mine. "Yep."

"Good." I take my seat and my phone vibrates. "Hang on a sec; let me see who this is."

I open my math book, and simultaneously check my phone.

Andy: OK, but Rod's not that bad you know.

I slide my phone into my purse and glance at Rodney. He's looking at my boots.

"I know," I say as I flip to chapter ten. "The boots are unexpected with this dress, but I wanted to try something different."

"No, they, um, they look nice," he stammers, meeting my eyes.

"Thank you." I smile.

Rodney blushes. "So, uh, did you have a good day, uh, today?"

"Yes, it went well. Yours?"

"It was great. I..." Rodney pauses, apparently searching for words to complete the utterly unnecessary sentence he's started.

I clear my throat. "Unfortunately, I can't stay long, Rodney. I have to pick up my sister from daycare."

"Oh." He nods. "That's okay. No problem."

The classroom door creaks open and an intruder's heels click-clack at the back of the room. Whoever this is can't be my sister because Andy never wears heels. Even so, I jump out of my seat, delighted by the welcomed disruption.

It's Drew Everett.

"Drew," I exclaim, grinning.

Drew, like me, is in tenth grade. But, unlike me, Drew is immensely popular. And I don't mean popular at our school, I mean popular in that she is literally famous. She's an actress who just moved here from Los Angeles.

"Where's Mr. Bolton?" Drew asks, her frown evaporating as she appraises my outfit. "Cute dress."

"Thanks." I beam. "I bought it from--"

"Where's Mr. Bolton?" Drew interrupts, her eyes roving the classroom.

"He left, he wasn't feeling well and he..." I let my voice trail off while Drew, obviously uninterested in the rest of my sentence, leaves the room, her heels tapping out the swift beat of her stride as she returns to the hallway.

Rodney chuckles. "That was slightly rude."

"Slightly?" I huff. "Try incredibly."

"Hey!"

At the sound of my sister's voice, I spin around and nearly squeal with joy as she jogs into the classroom. Andy, with her massive backpack, puffy blond curls, and oversized nerd-glasses is the most beautiful sight I've seen all day.

"Rod!" She grins, headed our way. "What up, dude?"

He smiles. "Not much."

She turns her attention to me and points to my purse. "Pick it up; we need to go. Guess who just got her period and has zero tampons? So, we need to bounce. Apologies, Rod."

Rodney's eyes are so wide that he looks frightened.

"Uh, that's okay," he says in a low voice, his gaze shifting from me to my sister.

For a moment, I feel bad for him.

I'M STILL LAUGHING as I close my locker and slip my backpack on. "That expression on his face was classic. I'm going to call it, The Rodney."

Andy laughs, snorting. "I felt kinda bad though. Rod's the nicest guy in tenth grade."

I grab my keys from my purse and start for the exit doors. "The nicest? Based on what research?"

"God, Gia, you're so prejudiced," Andy says, hitting my backpack.

I lose my smile and stop in my tracks. Mortified, I turn to Andy. "What did you just say?"

"You heard me. And don't look so shocked." Andy pushes her glasses up on her nose, and refusing to wait for me even though I have the car keys, she continues on to the exit as she declares, "You know you wouldn't be caught dead with someone below your social status; you're a snob."

Oh...

Irritated, I hurry to catch up with her. "You need to watch what you say."

"What are you talking about?" Andy asks, whipping out her phone as she pushes through our school's massive front doors. "I'm just telling the truth."

I follow her outside and immediately squint under Louisiana's near-blinding sunlight. I reach into my purse for my shades. "When you used the word 'prejudiced' in reference to me, it sounded as though you were implying that I don't want to hang out with Rodney because he's African-American."

Andy looks up from her phone. "That's not what I meant."

"Yes, yes, I know. But that's what it would've sounded like to someone who passed us in the hall," I explain as I take SLH's front steps with care. High-heeled boots aren't great for traversing stairs. "Or what if Rodney had been walking behind us and heard you? He would've assumed I'm some kind of racist. Do you know how hurt he would have been? Not to mention-"

"And what if every volcano in the world erupted right when a giant meteor hit Earth and melted Antarctica's icebergs causing cryopreserved dinosaurs to be thawed back into existence and then they ate everyone who hadn't been killed by the hot lava or the aftereffects of the meteor?" Andy exclaims, gesturing wildly.

All I can do is stare at my sister because I have no idea how any of the nonsense she's just spewed has any relation to my argument. Then again, I suppose I should be used to this sort of confusion after fourteen years of listening to Andy's senseless rants.

Andy pushes her wild curls out of her face. "Gia, you make yourself sick worrying about what other people think. You're so paranoid."

I frown. "I am not paranoid. Don't say that!"

"I know, I know." Andy laughs. "You don't want me to call you paranoid because what if someone hears me and spreads a vicious rumor that you're paranoid?"

"Andy, you--" As I move from the last step to the sidewalk, I see something that brings me to an abrupt halt.

My best friend Via sits on the curb, her shoulders hunched, and her face in her hands.

Uh oh.

I sigh and start towards Via.

I know exactly what this means and I am going to kill Heath Remington. Then again, a part of me wants to kill Via for continuing to date a loser who does nothing but make her cry.

"Great. This again." Andy, just behind me, groans.

"Shut up, Andy," I whisper as I hurry to Via.

I don't know what it is that my sister has against Via. Andy gets along with everyone at our school, from Rodney the geek to Mia the head cheerleader. But for some reason she's never liked Via. Lately, Andy's been making an effort to hide her dislike, but she's my little sister. A big sister can always tell when her younger siblings are being fake.

"Hey," I say and sit down on the curb beside Via. I try not to worry about the dirty cement ruining my white dress as I slip off my shades and turn to her. "What happened? Is it Heath?"

Via wipes her nose and looks at me, her eyes brimming with tears and her face red.

A knot forms in my throat and my own eyes start to water. I hate this...why does she keep taking him back? If your boyfriend is a jealous nimrod with a drinking problem, maybe you should just let him go. Duh.

"Can you bring me home?" Via asks, her voice soft. "Heath was my ride."

"Of course." I nod, a wave of sympathy washing over me as I pat her shoulder. "And whatever happened, we'll fix it, okay?"

Via shrugs, her eyes dull.

I sigh.

Via's the sweetest person in the world, but she has a tendency to make decisions that result in her ending up the way she is now--hurt.

She wipes her tears with the back of her hand and glances at me. She looks so needy that I have to say something.

"Don't worry," I say, looking into her eyes. "Everything's going to be fine, whatever happened, I'll help you fix it." 

#

#

# _Love Sucks_

Gia's Jeep is as neat as her side of the room she and Andy share; it doesn't have a trace of dust on the dashboard or a speck of dirt on the rugs.

She starts the engine and Andy, seated in the back, shouts at her to turn up the AC. I rub my forehead, hoping to ward off the anxiety induced pain that's beginning to form there.

My frighteningly spotless surroundings are a huge reminder of the difference between us. I used to say that Gia and I were "almost twins," but these days it's hard to believe that we're even friends. Actually...I'm surprised that Gia hasn't given up on trying to be my friend. Everyone else has.

By the end of last school year my other best friend, Latonya, had stopped calling me, texting me, and hanging out with me. I didn't bother asking why. We both knew the unspoken answer to that.

But Gia never gave up. She still texts, calls, and invites me over. Of course, I don't respond like I used to and I always decline her invitations to come over. It's not that I don't appreciate her loyalty. I'd be an idiot to not love her even more for it. But for the past few months, being around Gia makes me feel...um...honestly, I don't even know what the exact word is. All I know is that when I'm around her I start to feel annoyed and homesick and disconnected from everything that used to be normal.

I guess maybe the word I'm looking for is sad.

Yeah, that's it. Being around Gia makes me sad.

So, that's why I've kind of been, like, avoiding her. And yeah, I know that makes me a terrible friend considering how loyal she's been.

I slip off my flip flops, tuck my feet up under me, and swat an itchy tear from my left eye. It's itchy because I keep forgetting to buy new mascara and the nasty gloop that I glooped on this morning gloopified my eyelashes and now it's glooping itself down my cheeks.

Gia backs out of her parking spot and I turn to my window.

She hasn't said anything for the past few minutes, but I know the silence won't last. Any minute now, she'll start asking me exactly what happened and why I'm crying and what Heath did and blah, blah, blah. But no matter what, I can't tell her the truth.

Maybe that's why hanging out with Gia makes me sad--because it's not the same as it used to be. We used to be so open with each other. Not anymore. Now, I can't expect her to understand what I'm going through because she's never even had a boyfriend. So, she doesn't know anything about love or relationships. I used to think that didn't matter because she was my friend- I thought she'd understand. So, I'd try to explain my relationship issues and she'd get this shocked/super-judgey look on her face and start blushing and saying things like, "you've got to be smart." It made me feel like trash.

So, yeah... basically, Gia doesn't understand love and that's why she'll never understand what I'm going through with Heath.

I glance out of the passenger seat window and spot Lanie Russell and Blake Pianciano headed to Blake's truck. Lanie's adjusting her book bag as she grins about something Blake's said. For once in his life, Blake doesn't look like he's got a giant stick up his butt and he's smiling too. Blake and Lanie aren't dating, but I'd totally ship that. Everyone else at SLH ships Lanie and Randall Hawke. But Ran already has a girlfriend. On the other hand, Blake is single and Lanie's single. So, why shouldn't they give each other a shot?

I watch them and sigh. They remind me of the way me and Heath sometimes get... laughing at each other in between stealing nervous glances and exchanging shy grins.

I continue to stare at Lanie and Blake with the intensity of a jealous ex. To be honest, I am a little jealous... why can't me and Heath be like them? They look so free. I want to go back to being free.

Lanie turns to Blake and jams her index finger into his chest. His eyebrows lift in amusement.

That was me and Heath as recently as yesterday. Twenty-four hours ago, everything I said and did made him smile.

But not today. Instead, today, when I need him to think I'm adorable, he hates me.

I sigh and turn away from the window while Gia pulls out of the parking lot.

"So," Andy asks from the backseat, "are you going to tell us why you're crying and sighing every five seconds or do you want us to ignore you?"

I shrug. "Ignore me. That's what you'd do anyway."

Andy snorts and the noise makes her sound like an actual pig. "I'm not that mean, Via."

"Yeah," Gia pipes up, and from the corner of my eye, I see her turn to me. "We care and we want to help."

"Correction," Andy says. "I'm just nosey; she cares and wants to help."

"Shut up, Andy," Gia snaps. She returns her attention to me and softens her tone, "Via, if you just tell me what's wrong, I can fix it."

Funny.

That's what Heath said this afternoon. Not exactly in those words, but it's what he was trying to say.

In reality, he mostly yelled, "What's wrong with you?" a bunch of times without actually giving me a second to explain that I wasn't hooking up with some stupid guy I met at Mia Reeve's stupid party and that I only got said guy's stupid number so I could set him up with my cousin.

Heath turns into a jerk when he's jealous, and when he's in jerk-mode, I can't get a word in edgewise.

"And she's silent again," Andy mumbles before hitting the back of Gia's seat. "Hey, can we give up on Helen Keller and listen to some K.I.G.H.?"

"Andy! God!" Gia turns around and slaps at her sister's hand. "Helen Keller wasn't mute and I hate Kids In Glass Houses--"

"Yeah, because you have no taste in music and I do. We all know that, Gia," Andy retorts. "Just let me hear 'Youngblood' for a quick fix and then you can listen to your depressing funeral music or Via's silent tears if that's what you'd prefer."

"Ingrid Michaelson is not funeral music," Gia hisses. "And if you..."

I tune out the Moretti sisters, cross my arms, and think back to the way Heath yelled, "I'm done, Via!" With that, he slammed his fist into a nearby bleacher seat and shouted, "Done!" one more time before stalking out of the empty gym, leaving me to stand there, alone and scared.

He's never been the one to end things. Every time we've broken up, I've ended it. But this time was different. This time I think we're really over, which sucks seeing as I'm probably pregnant.

Kids in Glass Houses drifts from the speakers and I take a deep breath, my stomach curdling like I've just eaten bad yogurt.

I hope I don't throw up again- but it's almost three in the afternoon so I guess I won't. Otherwise why would they call it morning sickness?

Gia passes Riverside Shopping Center and though it's blurred by my tears, I turn to get a better look at one of the shopping center's stores, The Gilded Tiger.

Last week, Heath and I went into The Gilded Tiger to make fun of the antiques that people like my mom buy. The dumb, top-hat wearing frogs and weird garden gnomes that cost eight hundred bucks each and do nothing more than sit in your front yard looking like crap after they've been pounded on by rain and dog piss.

While we were in the store, Heath bought me a silver and purple wind chime with little hummingbirds around the base.

He said it reminded him of me. When he said that, his voice was gentle and he looked almost shy. For once, he wasn't trying to be sexy, which, don't get me wrong, is also great. But, it was like he was just being honest. I have to admit that Honest Heath is even more appealing than Sexy Heath.

"Via?" Gia asks, her voice quiet.

"Yeah?" I clear my throat and sniff back a load of grossness that's threatening to dribble out of my nose.

Once, Heath kissed me while I was crying and some of my snot got in his mouth. It made me laugh and at first, he was actually a little upset, but when he saw that I'd stopped crying, he lightened up. That's another thing I like about him. I know it's simple and kind of like, duh, but I love that when I'm happy, it makes him happy. It's like, I affect him. Today, I guess I had a negative effect on him.

"I wish you'd tell me what's wrong," Gia says, cutting into my thoughts.

I glance at her.

She keeps her eyes focused on the road ahead.

That's nothing new; Gia's always focused. I look at her hands and yep, they're at ten and two on the steering wheel, just like we learned in driver's ed last summer. She passed her test and got her learner's permit. I, on the other hand, failed my test and got a case of crabs from the driver's ed teacher.

We both pretended to be surprised about me failing, but deep down I think we both knew it'd happen.

Gia slows for a red light at Main Street and Bienvenue, and turns to me. "I'm serious. Tell me what's wrong."

I can't.

Things are different now, we can't share secrets like we used to. When we were little, we were like the same person. Outwardly different, because Gia's so perfect, but in a below-the-surface way, we were the same.

Like, as hick as our hometown is, we both loved Swamp Rose with its Annual Crawfish Festival, tiny Mardi Gras parade every spring, and the fact that every time you go to Corner Mart for groceries, you see the exact same people buying the exact same things and you smile at them and they smile at you, because that's how things are in Swamp Rose. We wouldn't trade this place for the world. We were also alike in that we preferred to make the best of things by smiling, no matter how broken we really felt on the inside. So, while Gia Moretti might've looked like her three little sisters, I used to swear that the two of us had more in common than they ever would.

On the downside, that's exactly why she's so disappointed in me now. She knows--more than anyone--that I could be better. She knows I could be more like her.

She focuses on getting good grades. I distract myself with guys. She follows every rule her Dad sets. I don't even bother listening to what my Mom's rules are.

Gia doesn't understand me anymore and if I tried to explain myself, I'm pretty sure she'd silently judge me as "irrational." Sure, she'd cover her criticism with a polite smile and say something like, "Aw, V. You know better than that..." but the judgement would be there. I don't know if I could stand that.

"It's nothing." I face the road ahead and point to the light. "Green."

Without a word, Gia turns onto Main Street and I steal a peek at her. She's got a blank look on her face.

"Don't be mad," I say. A mascara-laden tear skids down my cheek and I quickly wipe it away.

Gia shakes her head. "Don't be silly. I'm not mad at you."

I knew that. She never gets mad at me. She gets disappointed in me, which is worse.

My phone vibrates and I glare at it, my heart pitter-pattering in my chest.

What if it's Heath?

Gia smooths down the skirt of her lacey white dress, a nervous gesture. She always smooths down her clothes when she's on edge.

If this is Heath and he wants to get back together, then maybe I can tell him I might be pregnant and maybe he'll know what to do.

I open the text message and yep, it's from Heath.

I start to read it when my phone blares "Hooker" by Pink and a picture of my Dad's barely legal girlfriend, Crystal, fills the screen. I groan.

Crystal is the last person I want to talk to right now.

"Geez." Gia chuckles. "Whose ring tone is that?"

"Crystal's," I mutter.

"Oh," she replies, her tone apologetic.

Gia's never met Crystal, but she's heard me rag on the woman enough to know that a call from her is an incredibly sucky situation.

"I wanted the perfect ring tone for her," I quietly say.

Gia chuckles, but guilt pricks my conscience.

I hate it when people at school call me "slutty" --they never call the guys slutty, just me. The guys would brag, their reputations skyrocketing, while mine plunged until all of my friends (except Gia) stopped hanging out with me. I know it's a dumb double standard, so why am I buying into it by labeling Dad's new girlfriend a "hooker?" Maybe I should change her ringtone.

"Hi, Crystal," I mutter.

"Hey, Via!" Crystal says in her annoyingly high-pitched voice. The woman sounds like a cartoon character on helium.

"What's going on?" I blandly reply.

"Psst," Andy whispers from the backseat. "If you can work it into the conversation, ask her if she has a good relationship with her father. I have this theory about women who go out with old guys."

"She's on the phone, Andy. Be quiet," Gia hisses.

"Well, Quy and I were planning a trip to Hawaii next month and we thought--" Crystal's voice cracks and she clears her throat. "We thought maybe you'd like a break from school and you could come with us?"

Me, depressed and pregnant, trapped on an island with my dad and his new girlfriend? I think I'd rather set myself on fire.

"No thanks. I have a lot of school stuff I need to do. But thank you for asking."

"Oh," she slowly replies, her voice lowering a bit. "Sure, I get it. Um, well, maybe sometime we could hang out? Just the two of us? I'd, um, I'd really like that."

Maybe when you stop screwing my dad, sure, we could hang out then.

"Right." I frown, remembering Heath's text. "Crystal, I've got to go. I'll talk to you later."

"Okay. Bye, Via," she replies, disappointment drenching her words.

I hang up, push Crystal's disappointment from my conscience, and open Heath's text.

Call me when ur home

My heart falls into my stomach.

Call him for what? Call him so we can make up, or so he can yell at me some more?

I type my response: Why? You said we're done. Remember?

Shoving my phone back into my purse, I glare at Swamp Rose Mall from my window and try to ignore the sound of my phone vibrating in my purse.

"Let me guess," Andy pipes up. "That's Heath begging you to take him back, even though he--"

"Andy, leave her alone," Gia snaps. She softens her tone to address me, "You okay, V?"

"Yeah." I glance at her.

Gia frowns as she tucks her hair behind her ear, revealing tiny pearl earrings. I know she doesn't approve of Heath; she probably thinks it'd be a good idea if we stayed broken up.

"You know what? It's been at least three months since you've been to our house." Gia suddenly turns to me and her frown disappears as her eyebrows lift. "Why don't you come over? We can watch a movie. We don't need to talk about whatever's got you down. We could just chill. And I think we might even have some toffee from our last trip to Corner Bakery."

At the mention of toffee, my mouth waters, and I find myself nodding.

Hanging out with Gia does sound better than being stuck in our big empty house all by myself where I'll just cry and watch Sex & The City reruns until Mom comes home and yells at me for not doing whatever. And then later she'll yell at me for getting pregnant because I guess I'll have to tell her.

"Thanks," I quietly reply. "And sorry I've been so, um..."

What am I?

"Sad and infested with herpes?" Andy suggests.

Heat rises to my cheeks.

"Andy!" Gia shouts.

I glance down at my mascara smudged hands and wipe the black smears from my fingertips as I say, "That's just a rumor. I don't have any STDs."

"Seriously? How'd you manage that?" Andy mumbles.

"Andy," Gia shouts. "Shut up!"

"It's fine," I say and, reaching into my purse, I grab my phone. "I'm used to it."

I open the most recent message from Heath and read: Jus call me

My heart flutters and I take a deep breath as I place my phone in my lap.

"Today I was tutoring Rodney after school and guess who walked in?" Gia says with a fake laugh. I can tell she's just trying to change the subject.

"Who?" I ask and hold onto the door while Gia pulls into Club Dixie's parking lot to turn around so we can head back to her neighborhood.

The Moretti's live in a subdivision called Oak Hills. It's nowhere near as new or fancy as Highland Hills Gates -where me and Heath live- but it's closer to our school and for some reason, I've always felt better at Gia's place. Maybe because our humongous house is too empty. Even back when Mom and Dad were still together and my brother still lived with us, our house was too quiet.

"Drew Everett," Gia says. At the sound of Drew's name, I roll my eyes.

I hate Drew Everett.

First of all, she's always flirting with Heath like he doesn't already have a girlfriend and secondly, she thinks she's God's gift to humanity just because she lives in the biggest house in our neighborhood and has a little acting career or whatever.

I shift in my seat and mutter, "I can't stand her, she's such an--"

"Amazing actress!" Andy exclaims, cutting me off. In her excitement, she hits the back of her sister's seat. "You didn't tell me Drew was in there with you and Rod!"

"Because you would've freaked out and left me with Rodney to go chase her down the hall while she ran away from you," Gia mutters.

"She's not that amazing," I say, recalling the Late Night interview I saw Drew in a few months ago. "I saw her on the Late Night with Chad Block show and she was terrible. She kept bragging about how great of an actress she is, and then her mom came on stage and flashed the audience. It was gross."

"You can't blame Drew for her mom's drug problem," Andy retorts.

"Actually," Gia replies, "maybe her mom wouldn't be on drugs if she didn't have such a screwed-up kid."

"Gia, that's really mean," Andy says, sounding surprised.

I glance at Gia. Andy's right; that is mean.

But as Gia starts to tell Andy she's not being mean, she's just stating the obvious, I realize that maybe Gia's right... and that maybe if I really am pregnant and I have this kid, it'll screw me up even more and I'll turn into a half-baked loser like Drew Everett's mom. My phone vibrates. Still stuck in my thoughts, I pick up my phone and robotically open the text I've received. It's from my brother.

Why'd Heath answer ur phone yesterday? I thought Mom told you to break up with him.

Oh, God.

I set my phone back on my lap and stare out of the window.

We pass the mall a second time. Gia calls Andy a Hollywood sycophant and Andy yells at Gia, calling her a Stepford Wench -whatever that means. Their argument grows louder by the second and nudges the anxiety in my temples into a full-fledged headache.

"Gia?" I say.

As soon as I speak, the Moretti sisters quiet down.

"I'm sorry to make you turn around again," I say. "But can you just take me home?"

Gia looks at me. "Are you sure?"

I return my attention to my phone and type: OK, I'll call you.

I hit send and as the message travels to my boyfriend's phone, I meet Gia's eyes and nod. "I'm sure."

#

#

# _The Diary_

When I was a kid, Sundays were special. Mom always made a full dinner which included dessert. And when I say dessert I'm not talking about a pack of Oreos. I'm talking rich chocolate cake topped with praline-cream frosting, served with a side of homemade vanilla ice cream. So, Sunday dinner was like heaven and hell. Why hell? Come on, can you imagine what it felt like to sit through eating mashed potatoes with string beans and steak or whatever while, just a few feet away, a huge chocolate cake and tub of ice cream sat on the counter calling your name like a delicious, sugary siren?

At some point, my impatience would win. I'd bolt from my seat, grab a fistful of cake, and of course, I'd get into loads trouble. These days I have the same problem, but now there's no Mom around to stop me from being impatient. There's just me, silently arguing with myself like a lunatic.

As I unsuccessfully try to focus on editing the latest episode of AniMalls, I steal a peek at the little brown book I snatched from Amelia Hearth's trash can. It's half hanging out of my backpack and making like a chocolate cake siren.

"I need to take a break anyway," I mutter as I turn back to the frozen image of Mia Reeves and Elizabeth O'Brien (or "E" as she prefers to be called) on my computer screen. I sigh and rub my eyes.

I love AniMalls--it's my baby and who doesn't want to spend time dressing up their baby? But I can't wait to get my hands on that little book I lifted from Amelia's trash! Besides, it's not like I'm going to be able to upload this episode of AniMalls tonight. Every episode needs at least eight minutes of music and this one only has four. So, why shouldn't I stop editing and take a well-deserved break?

I minimize my editing software, leave my workstation, and grab the book from my backpack.

I slide onto my bed and excitement runs through my veins as I tuck my feet up under me and open the first page. I wonder if this is how a satiated crackhead feels. Probably.

Eager to read, I dive into the first page of the stolen book...

Dear Diary,

I still miss my sister. I thought about her when they gave me oatmeal for breakfast this morning. Once upon a time, long before our lives changed for the worse, our parents would often forget to buy groceries. On such occasions, Karen used to attempt to keep me fed by forcing me to eat oatmeal. She was aware of my aversion to oatmeal and because of this, it was always a last resort. She'd say, "You have to eat something, even if it's oatmeal."

In retrospect, I suppose there were moments when Karen was fairly considerate and I suppose it's possible that she wasn't intentionally condescending.

I laugh out loud and scoot back to lean against my pillow.

Whoever this chick is, she sounds like she could be me talking about Gia. I'd bet fifty bucks that Karen is this girl's older sister, because "fairly considerate yet condescending" is what older sisters do best.

Still grinning, I continue reading.

You'd think that none of Karen's qualities would matter now that she's gone. After all, when someone dies, everything about them follows suit--their love, their anger, the way they made you feel; every part of them drifts into oblivion. At least, that's what should happen.

Dr. Mire calls death necessary. She says it cleanses our world of what's past and pushes us into the future. Of course, Dr. Mire is also an idiot. I've listened to the woman cite a plethora of eloquently-worded excuses to justify my sister's murder. Still, in spite of Dr. Mire's idiocy, I find her assessment of death accurate.

Death should cleanse. And as such, I should let my sister go. But I can't.

Against my will, Karen remains in my heart and her presence renders me broken. The grief has become a hindrance. It weighs me down, weakens me.

That's why I'm going to get rid of it. And doing so will require much effort, but the task can be accomplished. Grief is as destructible as anything else in the universe. Here's the key: energy of any sort can be converted. Is not emotion a form of energy? And if I tap into my grief, would I not be able to transform it into a more useful emotion?

I intend to plunge head-first into my grief. I will disturb its waters until they churn with a force so strong that a new substance is created: rage.

As Cary Grant once said, "It's important to know where you come from, so you can know where you're going."

I know two things: I came from a family that was brutally murdered and I know that I will destroy the organization that murdered my family. I.T.I.S. won't get away with what they've done. I will eviscerate every vestige of that disgusting organization.

Carrying this out will require immense power. Thanks to my grief turned rage, I will possess such power. And when I aim it at the head of I.T.I.S., Jayne Mire will have nowhere to run. I will kill her. And I will enjoy every second of it.

-Tessa Lyles

I close the diary, stare into space, and try to process what I've just read.

Wow.

A dead older sister and... well, not just dead, murdered. And a Cary Grant quote? Wasn't he an actor who was famous in, like, the nineteen-sixties? In that case, how old is this diary supposed to be? And who the heck is Tessa Lyles? Is she a main character in one of Amelia Hearth's movies? She has to be because... if she's not then...no. This diary is definitely nothing more than a prop for a movie. It's not real and neither is this "Tessa Lyles" character.

My mouth goes dry as I open the journal and thumb through its pages. Handwritten...it's all painstakingly handwritten. If this is a prop, someone sure did go through a lot of trouble to make it look real.

Could this be more than a prop? And if it's real, how did it get into Amelia Hearth's office?

I stare down at the little brown book, questions whirling through my mind like mini-tornadoes.

Five minutes later, when Gia opens the door to our room, I'm still a space cadet. Her eyes go from me to my computer.

"You're not working on your series? What's wrong? You're always working on AniMalls," she says while she heads to our closet.

"I took a break," I slowly reply. There's no way I'm going to tell Gia about the diary. She'll want to know how I got it. Then I'll have to tell her I found it while I was skipping school and that'll lead to her being completely overbearing like Tessa Lyle's older sister probably was... I mean, if Tessa Lyles had actually been a real person.

A wave of nerves overtake me and I gulp. Geez. Why am I letting this fake diary get to me? Clearly, it's not real. It's about a kid being held prisoner by some quack who heads a secret organization. If that's not fiction, I don't know what is.

Then again, fiction is often based on reality...

I close my eyes and shake my head.

Okay. I think it's time for me to take a temporary step back from this diary.

"Hey!" I hop off of my bed and decidedly toss the little book into my backpack.

"What?" Gia asks from inside of our closet. Hangers clatter as they hit the floor.

"Do you want to see part of this week's AniMalls episode? It's not done yet because I only have, like, half of the music I need, but I can show you what I've edited so far."

"Sure," Gia says, her robe and pajamas in hand as she closes the closet door.

"Come here." I head to my computer and maximize my editing software before beckoning her. "Sit in my chair for the ultimate viewing experience."

She tosses her robe and PJ's on the bed and slides into my chair. I hit play.

"I still can't believe Mia and her snobby friends let you follow them around with your camera," Gia says while the new theme music starts.

"Shhhh!" I slap my sister on her shoulder and plop down on my bed. "Shut it and watch!"

Gia does as instructed and while she watches what I've edited so far, I watch her. For me, this right here is the best part of filmmaking.

Gia gets a thrill when Dad tells her he's proud of her or when some teacher writes, "Nice job!" at the top of her perfectly executed math test. I love Dad, but I don't live for his approval and I couldn't care less about my grades. I get my thrills from a different source--from my audience. Watching them react as I've intended is one of the most exhilarating sensations ever.

When the video's over, Gia turns around to face me. She's grinning like she's just won a million bucks. "Spielberg!" she exclaims. "I love it, it's perfect!"

"Thanks."

"And I'm in awe of the new music," she says, pointing to the frozen image on screen. "It adds such finesse. Wow, Andy." She catches my eye and smiles even more.

I hesitantly return her grin. "Thanks." I adjust my glasses and briefly consider what might happen if I tell my sister who's been helping me with the music.

If I divulge that I've been Skyping with Via's older brother, Van, because he's agreed to compose music for all future AniMalls episodes, Gia will either:

  1. Feel left out and assume I've intentionally withheld this from her because I hate her. Her already heightened insecurity will increase, and she will become even more of a nag. Or she will,

  2. Pass out from heart palpitations at the mention of Van's name (he has this effect on girls) or

  3. Realize I've developed feelings for Van and upon becoming insecure in her position as "Van's favorite" Moretti, go into a jealous rage and nag me to the point of death.

"Andy?" Gia taps my arm. "You all right? You look funny."

"It's the glasses." I clear my throat. "I should get contacts--at least that's what Mia says."

Gia tisks and her posture stiffens. "Who cares what Mia says? She's so shallow."

"No, she's not."

Gia arches an eyebrow. "You're telling me Mia Reeves isn't shallow?"

"Well," I pause and choose my words carefully. "I think everybody's deep in their own way. Take your friend Easy, for example."

"Andy," Gia interrupts. "Don't call Via 'Easy.'"

"Everyone else does."

"Because they're all jerks. It's disrespectful and crude. And, actually, just leave Via out of this conversation, period. She's going through a lot right now and she doesn't deserve to be picked on."

"Exactly! That's my point." I jam my finger into my sister's shoulder and she swats me away. "A lot of people think Via's this dumb slut who just hooks up with every guy in sight. And maybe, in a way, they're right. But that doesn't mean--"

"Andy!" Gia shouts. "I said leave Via out of this!"

"No, wait. Let me finish," I protest. "I'm trying to say that just because Via makes, like, tons of bad choices doesn't mean there isn't more to her."

Gia bolts from her chair and starts for the clothes she threw on her bed.

"Don't you get what I'm trying to say?" I ask. "My point is that people like Mia and Easy--I mean Via--people like them aren't as shallow as they seem. I was just--"

"Don't play dumb, Andy. You were being sarcastic," Gia says in her "preachy" older sister tone. "And you know what? You've changed. You're with those cheerleaders twenty-four seven and they're ruining you, you're not the same."

"Oh, my God." I roll my eyes. "Here we go..."

"I'm serious, Andy. Just look at yourself! Your grades are getting worse every week and do you even do your homework anymore? Every time I turn around, you're working on AniMalls or you're with Mia and stupid Elizabeth--"

"Did you really just call Elizabeth O'Brien stupid?" I laugh and cross my arms. "That shows how little you know about my friends."

"I know Elizabeth is failing math, which is exactly what's going to happen to you if you don't start doing your homework."

"Maybe E has trouble with math because in between school and Cheerleading and Dance Team, she also has to work twenty hours a week," I say. "You don't know everything, Gia. You don't know that E's mom lost her job and now E has to help pay their rent because her dad's too busy getting arrested to lend a hand. And you don't know that Mia has a butt ton of insane family problems that she begs me not to put in the AniMalls footage. None of the girls on my show are any shallower than Via."

"Just shut up and do your homework!" Gia snaps. With this, she heads to our door.

I scoff. Where does she get off thinking she can tell me what to do even though she's barely older than me?

"You shut up," I shout. "And while you're at it, stop trying to be Mom. You're not her; you'll never be anything like her."

Gia pauses in stride and turns to me. Her mouth is hanging open and her eyes are wide. She blinks quickly and takes a deep breath.

"Don't you think I know that, Andy?" Her voice cracks, the way it always does when she's on the verge of tears.

"Gia-"

Before I can say another word, she hurries out of our room and I hear the bathroom door slam shut. Seconds later, the shower is running.

I sigh and close my eyes, silently cursing myself.

I'm such an idiot... I shouldn't have said that.

Why do I always say the wrong things to people? What's wrong with me?

I STARE AT the ceiling while thoughts of Van, Gia, AniMalls, and Tessa Lyles run through my mind. I'm not going to be able to get any sleep tonight, especially since I hurt Gia's feelings.

Seriously, though, why am I always hurting people? I never want to. But it's like that's what I do best.

I mean, generally, I get along all right in social settings--actually, even better than all right. People think I'm funny and smart, because I legitimately am. I'm not bragging; it's just the truth. And it's also the truth that when it comes to heart-to-heart stuff, I suck. I always end up hurting people's feelings. I hate that about myself.

Our bedroom door opens and light from the hallway cuts into the darkness. Gia closes the door, pads to her bed, and it creaks as she slips under her covers.

I turn her way and clear my throat. "Hey, Gia?"

Silence.

Great. She's really pissed.

"What?" Gia finally replies.

"I didn't mean what I said, earlier," I say, silently willing her to believe me.

"I know."

"And..." I pause. "You are a lot like Mom. I think she'd be really proud of you."

Gia turns towards me and closes her eyes.

I almost don't hear her when she whispers, "Thank you."

GIA'S SNORES FILL our bedroom. I sigh and glance at the clock. It's ten sixteen. Why did I even try to go to bed before eleven? I should've known better, especially with so much on my mind.

I slip out of bed, grab Tessa Lyle's diary and steal out of our room.

I close our door behind me and follow the noise of the evening news into the den.

Dad's asleep on the couch while our town's favorite Channel Seven News reporter, Ophelia Davis, announces the latest Unseen story. I plop on the couch beside Dad and he wakes with a start.

"Hey, you." He yawns and rubs his eyes.

"Hi."

I set the diary in my lap, lean on his shoulder, and watch Ophelia deliver her news story. "The mysterious Swamp Rose Superman, who locals have nicknamed Unseen, reportedly thwarted an attempted armed robbery at Lorraine's restaurant on Highland Hills Road around eleven this morning. A witness who was dinning within the restaurant at the time of the robbery says two men wearing ski masks attempted to rob the restaurant at gunpoint but were unable to follow through when both men suddenly fell unconscious as a bright light shone through the restaurant's window, nearly blinding everyone inside. The witness, who declined an on-camera interview, believes that our local hero, Unseen, may have been behind the source of the rescue. The witness also states that they believe Unseen has extraterrestrial origins."

"Of course our town's invisible superhero has extraterrestrial origins," Dad says, his voice drenched in irony. I glance at him and he smiles as he elbows me. "What do you think, Spielberg?"

"I grew up on Harry Potter and Star Wars," I say. "What do you think I think?"

He chuckles and yawns again. "Thought so. Well, if this town really has a Superman watching its back, I'm not complaining. We need all the help we can get."

I bite down on my bottom lip. Does my dad even realize just how much I do believe in Unseen's existence?

Probably not.

Dad loves us, but he lives in his own little world. He's been that way ever since Mom died. Actually, maybe he's always been like that and Mom was just such a great buffer that she made him seem less detached than he really was. I think some men need to be married for their lives to function properly, and my Dad is definitely one of those men.

I point to the screen. "Did you know Ophelia Davis has an older sister named Kami and they both work at Channel Seven?"

He rubs his eyes sleepily. "Can't say I knew that."

"She's about your age. I could set you guys up."

Dad frowns. "Wait, what? Wh-how do you even know that, Andy?"

I give his scruffy cheek a gentle pat. "I know everything. You keep forgetting that."

"Oh, yeah." He smiles. "How do I keep forgetting that?"

"Seriously, Dad," I say. "If you want me to set y'all up, I could. Not only is Kami pretty and super nice, but if you go out with her there's a chance she might pull some strings and get me a job at Channel Seven."

Dad laughs. "Ah ha! So, that's what this is really about."

I grin and open Tessa's diary. "Nah, I just want you to be happy."

"And you want a job at the news station."

"Yeah, that too," I confess. "I'm always giving Channel Seven news tips; they might as well go ahead and put me on their payroll."

"You give them news tips?" Dad sounds surprised.

See what I mean? Detached.

I arch an eyebrow at him. "Dad, that's something you probably should have known."

"Yeah." He turns away from me and sighs. "Yeah..." He has bags under his eyes; he should get some rest. I should too, but I'm younger--I can take the wear and tear.

"You should go to sleep," I say as I return my attention to Tessa's diary.

"I think I will." He stands, which makes the couch shift under me. "And you need to get some rest too. Go to bed before midnight, Spielberg."

He ruffles my hair, but all I can do is nod because the first two lines of Tessa's next diary entry have already hooked my attention.

Dear Diary,

Before I.T.I.S. killed my family, they had their spies following us. This means their network is quite extensive. I'd like to find out exactly how far-reaching it is.

Spies?! Holy Hitchcock... this diary is getting weirder and weirder.

I shake my head and continue reading.

#

#  

#

#

# _Three AM Drama_

At the sound of my phone, I open my eyes.

The sun's not even out yet. What time is it?

I reach for my phone and nearly knock my lamp off my nightstand. I squint at the time on my bedside clock...3:02 AM.

Who's calling me at three in the morning?

I rub sleep out of my eyes and hold my phone above me. It's Via's mom.

My heart sinks.

Unfortunately, this is a call I've grown accustomed to.

"Hi, Ms. Nguyen," I answer, sitting up.

"Sorry to bother you, Gia. But, do you know where she is this time?"

"No, ma'am," I confess. "She didn't tell me anything."

"At all?" Ms. Nguyen's voice wavers and a stab of pity pierces my heart.

Ms. Nguyen must be so scared. Naturally, there are moments when I worry about my three little sisters, but I'm certain that doesn't even compare to the degree that Ms. Nguyen worries about her fifteen-year-old daughter- a daughter who frequently sneaks out to meet up with her alcoholic boyfriend and then doesn't come home until the next morning.

If Via stopped to think about how anxious her mom gets every time this happens, she'd quit doing it. But Via never takes the time to think about how her actions affect other people.

"Ms. Nguyen, I'm so sorry, but she didn't," I quietly reply. "I'll text her. But, um...might I suggest you try calling Heath's house? I have a feeling that might be where she is."

"Thank you." Ms. Nguyen hangs up before I can say goodbye.

I run my palm along the cross stitch pattern on my blanket and glare at my phone until it goes dark.

I love Via, but if she were anyone else, I wouldn't put up with the decisions she makes. Her promiscuity, her lack of concern for her mother's feelings, and the way she stands by Heath despite his atrocious behavior--it's sickening.

I fall back on my pillow, stare at my ceiling, and sigh.

I know it's normal to want to "feel alive." That's why things like roller coasters and zip lines exist. People yearn for the occasional rush to remind themselves of their own existence. But Via doesn't want that rush every once in a while, she craves it on a daily basis. It's as if adrenaline has become her coping mechanism.

There's nothing wrong with a coping mechanism. We all have one. For example, when I'm down in the dumps, without even thinking about what I'm doing, I'll pick up a pencil and start sketching. While I'm drawing, I relax. Whatever issue had been bothering me evaporates. Via's coping mechanism is different. When she's down in the dumps, she either finds a random guy to... to "have fun" with or she'll pick a huge fight with her boyfriend.

Why are she and I so similar in some ways and so different when it comes to our coping mechanisms?

I bite down on my bottom lip, thinking about the last time we spent an entire day together. It was the first Saturday in October of last year. We went to brunch and then a movie. Afterwards, I was poised to take her home. But as I pulled up to the gate at her subdivision's entrance, Via begged me to turn the Jeep around. She wanted to drive to New Orleans. Not for any real reason, just so we could enjoy the drive -talk and listen to music- and then come right back to Swamp Rose. I couldn't see why not, so I shrugged and said, "Sure."

I smile as I recall the drive... the way we rolled the Jeep's windows down and screamed the lyrics to every Lady Gaga song we knew- giggling and egging each other on as the drivers in passing cars pointed at us and laughed. I must admit, that was liberating. Being with Via is liberating. That's one of the things I love most about her.

To Via, twenty-four hours is a blank canvas she's determined to fill with adventure. That determination makes her fun and lovable, but it also makes me scared for her.

I grab my phone and send her a text: Your mom just called & she's worried. Check in with her.

I'm surprised Andy hasn't woken up and seen what's going on; she's a pretty light sleeper.

I turn to Andy's bed and it's empty.

Where the heck is she?

I slide out of bed and get to my feet when my phone vibrates. I pick it up and read: I'm with HEATH!!!! : ) We're back on!!! No worries XXO

My stomach sinks.

Well, I'll worry about that later. Sending Via a quick OK : ) call your mom, I return my phone to my nightstand and head out of our room.

I stop at the bathroom, but its light isn't on. Andy isn't in there. I continue on down the hall and spot a light on in our living room. I head that way.

The grandfather clock near our fireplace tic-tocks, filling the room with sound. I pause mid-stride, my eyes going to my sister. She's curled up on the couch and her eyes are glued to a small leather bound book in her hands. She's so into whatever it is she's reading that she doesn't even hear me.

"Andy?"

She jumps and looks up in surprise. Her eyes are red and watery.

"Are you crying?" I hurry to her side.

"No." She wipes her eyes. "Well, maybe a little."

I slip an arm around her shoulders and pull her towards me. She smells like my shampoo. I resist the urge to remind her to use her own toiletries. Instead, I say, "What's wrong?"

She closes the small book and then points to it. "This is...terrible."

She's crying over a book? She must be PMSing.

"Then don't read it," I suggest. "You can probably even go back to the store and get a refund. Where'd you buy it?"

Andy shakes her head. "I didn't. I...I found it."

I remove my arm from her shoulders. I know Andy and when she says, "I found it," that means, "I stole it."

"Please don't tell me you 'found' it at Barnes & Noble." I cringe.

"No." She looks at me like I'm crazy. "I found it at Alyssum Studios, and it's not a regular book--it's a diary."

"Wait a minute! You stole someone's diary?" I glare at Andy and her words begin to register in my brain. "And when did you have time to go to Alyssum Studios and 'find' a diary? I really hope you didn't skip school yesterday. Did you, Andy?"

Clutching the book to her chest, she stands.

"Where are you going?"

"To sleep," she snaps. Before I can say another word, she's headed to our room.

I shake my head, annoyed. I'd bet anything that yesterday, Andy did skip school to spend the day at Alyssum Studios, where she stole some poor sap's diary.

The fact that she skipped school again is awful, but what's even worse is that she thought she had to lie to me about it. 

#

#

# _Love Is AMAZING!_

Lying is dumb.

If you're going to do something you shouldn't--own it. That's my philosophy. And I swear to God, I didn't mean to lie to Gia yesterday when I told her I wanted to go home instead of to her house.

I did go home. It's just that after I got home I called Heath and before I even know what I was doing--I found myself walking to his house and a few hours later, giving his hand a squeeze as he led me to his room.

Now, Heath's breath hits the back of my neck in a comfortable rhythm, matching the rise and fall of his chest under my cheek.

I shouldn't be here. Mom's going to kill me.

But, none of that even matters because (a) I'm not pregnant and (b) last night Heath said he loves me. Not just likes me--loves me.

I open my eyes, turn around, and bring my lips to his left pec, lightly kissing him just over his heart. With this, I slip out of his arms and lean on my elbow, looking down at him.

He's angelic when he sleeps. He has sweet straw-colored hair like Gia's, and his perfect lips are slightly parted. I lean forward, brush my mouth against his, and wait to see if I've awakened him.

Of course not. I should know better.

Grinning, I sit up and trace my index finger along the shadow at his jaw.

Heath can sleep through anything, especially after a few beers.

I stretch, letting his charcoal-colored bedspread fall off me. I glance down at my abs. Thank God there's no baby in here.

Kids are adorable, but I wouldn't know what to do with one right now.

I run my hand along my belly...but, if there had to be a baby, I'd rather it be Heath's than anyone else's, especially now that I know how sweet he'd be about the whole thing.

I glance at Heath and my gaze darts to the empty Budweiser cans near his pillow.

I lean over my drunken Sleeping Beauty, scoop up a few of the cans, and toss them into the trash can near his bed. I'll grab the rest later.

Another thing I'll have to do, at some point, is get Heath to stop drinking so much. For now, I've let the DWIs slide, but he can't keep that up--it's scary dangerous.

"Via?" His mom's voice startles me as she knocks on his door.

I yank Heath's sheet off of him, wrap it around myself, and hurry to his door.

I open it and grin. "Hey, Ms. Brandi."

Her blonde hair--the same color as Heath's--is all over her head as she yawns and hands me their landline. "Sugar, it's your mom. She sounds upset. Why didn't you tell her you were sleeping over?"

Rolling my eyes, I take the phone and whisper, "My mom's not like you."

"Thank God. Otherwise you'd be like that animal." She nods towards Heath and rubs her eyes, adding, "Keep your mom in the loop next time; there's no need to drive her crazy."

"Okay, sorry." I glance at the phone, my stomach turning.

This is not going to be a fun conversation.

Ms. Brandi heads down the hall and I take a step back into Heath's room, closing his door behind me.

And, here comes the parental explosion...

I unmute the phone. "Mom?"

"Via, what were you thinking?" she screams. I move the phone away from my ear.

"That I want to be around someone who loves me," I say.

"He doesn't love you; he's using you. Just like all of the others! You're so blind, Via! Think about what you're doing. Every time you get in Heath's car, you're putting yourself in danger and the things you do. Everyone in town knows what you've done--it's embarrassing, and I...I've had it." Mom pauses to take a breath. My heart is racing. As much as I disagree with her about, like, everything- I still hate it when she gets mad at me. It's almost as bad as disappointing Gia.

Without a word, I move to sit on the edge of Heath's bed and wait for Mom to continue her tirade.

"Via," she finally says. "You can't live here anymore; it's not working."

I open my mouth to speak, but no words come out. I literally don't even know what to say to that.

"You mean you want me to..." My voice is shaking. I clear my throat and try to pull myself together. "You mean you want me to live with Dad?"

"No, I want you away from that boy, I want you away from this town. You're moving. I've already decided. Come home and we'll discuss it. And if you're not here in twenty minutes, I'm calling the police and sending them to his house."

What!

She wouldn't.

I mean, can the police even do that?

"Why are you pretending like you want me home?" I snap. "You just said you don't want me around."

"The way you are now? No, I don't want you like this. I want my daughter back. Come home now."

With this, she hangs up and I stare at the phone, confused.

What did she mean she wants me "away from this town?"

I glance at Heath.

What if she wants to send me to a boarding school or, like, to some teen boot camp?

God help me, I can't think about this right now.

Dropping the phone, I crawl back into Heath's bed and snuggle up beside him.

He makes a weird growling noise.

"Don't wake up; it's just me," I whisper as I trace the fine hairs of his left eyebrow.

"Okay," he mumbles, his eyes still closed. "Water skis with...Skittles."

I watch him drift back to sleep. His mouth twitches as he emits a loud snore. His warm breath hits my nostrils and I cringe. Beer breath is not sexy.

I sit up and grab my phone from his nightstand. The screen lists ten missed calls from Mom. Ignoring them, I text my brother: Mom's CRAZY, I think she's gonna send me to boarding school! Can u talk to her please?

"...don't drop it..." Heath whispers in his sleep.

I glance at him and a smile makes its way to my lips.

The way Heath talks in his sleep, he'll never be able to get away with cheating on me. In fact, that's how I found out the last time.

My phone vibrates and I open Van's text: Did you take the test yet?

Ugh.

I sigh and roll my eyes. Every time I read a text from my brother, I can just hear his voice in my head, fussing at me. Everyone's always fussing at me. But, I guess that's what happens when you're the school skank.

"V?"

I turn back to Heath and grin when our eyes meet.

"You're awake!" I exclaim, joy stinging my heart to life. I scoot back to him.

"Barely." He yawns, rubbing his eyes.

I lean against Heath and he slips his arm around my waist, pulling me closer. He kisses my shoulder and his eyes dart to my phone. He freezes. "Who're you texting?"

"Just my brother," I reply, glancing at Heath.

We may have made up, but I can tell he's still sore about my nonexistent hookup with some loser I met at a party that I didn't even want to go to.

"Oh, tell him I said hey." Heath smiles, resuming his kissing of my shoulder.

I relax and murmur, "Right, that'd go over great."

Turning back to my phone, I reply: It was negative. False alarm. Sorry for bothering you with that.

Heath sits up and in one deft movement, slides on top of me. He kisses my neck and whispers, "I'm glad you're here."

I close my eyes and run my fingers through his hair as his kisses move down to my collarbone.

My phone vibrates and opening my eyes, I lift my hand to read Van's text: Good. Now that you know what can happen, stay away from him. Mom's not always right, but this time she is. Break up with Heath, move on. Better yet, focus on school. You're smart, V. Use those smarts to get somewhere.

Why am I even reading this right now? I set my phone aside and whisper, "I'm glad I'm here too."

Heath stops kissing me, his ocean blue eyes resting on mine.

He traces the outline of my lips with his finger and butterflies fill my stomach. "No more breaking up. I just want to be with you. Okay?"

I like the sound of that.

I smile and nod. "Okay." 

#

#

# _Who is Tessa Lyles?_

"No, Andy. You can't interview me right now. We're in Gym class," Drew Everett says, glaring at me.

"But Coach never pays attention to what we're doing," I argue. "I can just interview you really fast, in, like, five minut-"

"No, I'm busy," Drew snaps. With this, she returns her attention to Ben Morris, who's seated beside her on the gym bleachers. Raucous shouting from the nearby basketball game fills the gym with noise while she sets her gaze on him. "Ben, you were saying?"

He shoots me a sympathetic look. "Sorry, Andy." He turns to Drew and resumes their conversation. "Yeah, so I was saying..."

Drew Everett is tough.

I push my glasses up on my nose, open Tessa's diary, and retrieve the business card I've used as a bookmark.

I'm tough too. And I'm determined to interview Drew on my YouTube channel.

Undeterred, I wave my card just below Drew's nose and interrupt Ben midsentence, "Here's my card. Just give me a call when you're ready for me to interview you. You're such an amazing actress, I'd be honored to--"

"Yeah, okay," Drew barks, snatching the card. She narrows her dark eyes into an expression that's the equivalent of a round of machine gun fire. "Now, will you go away?"

I gulp. "Right. You got it."

If I make Drew any angrier, she might put me on a blacklist. Then, I'll never get my interview. I leave Drew and Ben to their conversation and head back to my seat. While I make my way there, the bleachers creak with my every step.

So, I'm not going to get to interview her any time soon. That sucks. But I guess it's not a big deal in the grand scheme of life. It's not like I don't have other things to worry about...

I plop down on my bleacher seat and run my fingers across the dark brown leather of Tessa Lyle's diary.

This book is so freaking absurd. The logical part of my brain wants to dismiss it as nothing more than a prop some overzealous prop master created for a movie. But a tiny voice in the back of my mind keeps suggesting that the diary could be more than that. Like, what if Tessa Lyles was a real person? And what if everything written in this book actually happened?

I take my glasses off and clean them with the hem of my gym shirt.

Nah. I'm crazy for even considering that. For one, if the diary's real, then why would Amelia Hearth have it? She's a world famous Academy Award winning filmmaker - why would she have some random kid's diary?

Either the smudges on my glasses are especially stubborn or my eyesight is especially blurry. I give up on using my shirt and take to wiping the lenses on my gym shorts. But my thoughts stray from the dirty glasses...

I should've known better than to come to school today. If I'd stayed home, I could've spent the morning googling Tessa Lyles. I would've found nothing on her, thus confirming her nonexistence and the fact that this "diary" is just an insanely detailed movie prop.

I slip my glasses back on and look down at the book. A rush of curiosity rolls over me and I toy with its ragged cover.

Real or not, the diary is compelling. It's like the more I read, the more I need to see what Tessa's next move will be. Hungry for more, I open the book, tune out the noise of the nearby basketball game, and read:

Dear Diary,

Today Dr. Mire called me "her greatest asset." I smiled, pretending to be pleased.

That smile was a challenge. Compared to it, I.T.I.S.'s training exercises are nothing. Forcing my re-engineered limbs to defy gravity and fly is a cinch. Shooting fire from my fingertips -in spite of the burning sensations that tear through my hands with every attempt- is child's play. But to smile at a compliment from Jayne Mire? That is a true test.

I'm increasingly anxious to kill her. Most nights, I dream about it. In one, I choked her until she turned blue. In another, I used my abilities to set her on fire. I've decided that when the time comes, that's how I'd like to do it-- with fire.

I turn the page, my thoughts racing. Tessa Lyles was able to fly? And that part about shooting fire from her fingertips?! There's no way any of that is possible, this has to be fiction.

I bite down on my bottom lip, thinking hard.

Then again, maybe it doesn't have to be fiction. After all, my own town is home to an invisible vigilante with superhuman abilities.

I roll my eyes at myself.

I'm jumping to conclusions again. I don't even know if Tessa Lyles was a real person. Until I find evidence of her actual existence, I should view this diary as fiction.

I return my attention to the next page and continue reading:

Were Karen still alive, she'd advise me against such a plan. She'd say murder is wrong. And I agree that, generally speaking, murder is immoral. But is it any more moral to leave a murderer unpunished? Or to cave to the murderer's every wish and make oneself her trained dog? I cannot allow Jayne Mire's continued existence. She killed my family and burned down our home in an attempt to erase every vestige of our lives! As if that wasn't enough, just last week she took my ring. She finally noticed it and immediately recognizing it as a piece of jewelry my mother used to wear, she ordered me to hand it over.

The ring, as ugly as it may be, was my one remaining link to my family. Every time I looked at that monstrous cat's eye set in its tarnished band, I thought of my mother. It's a revolting piece of jewelry but it was all I had left of home. Jayne knew that. That's why she took it away.

Justice demands that I do the same to her. First, I'll kill her family: her husband and her most valued employees. Then, I'll erase every vestige of her home by burning I.T.I.S. to the ground. Lastly, I'll kill Jayne Mire herself. It will be slow and painful. That is a promise.

I set the book in my lap, thinking hard.

An ugly cat's eye ring in a tarnished band and setting... I've seen a ring like that before. You don't forget something like that. But where did I see it?

"Hey, Andy."

My heart pounding, I shut the book and look up.

Mia and Kyle approach and, as usual, Kyle's not wearing the required SLH gym shorts and t-shirt. Instead, she wears a pink spandex top and black yoga pants. One day, I'm going to find out how she gets away with refusing to dress out for gym like the rest of us.

"Hey." I casually slip the diary under my thigh and turn to Mia while she makes herself comfortable on the bleacher below mine.

"What up, Moretti?" Kyle says, sliding onto the seat next to her best friend.

I shrug. It's not like I can actually tell them I'm trying to figure out if some weirdo named Jayne Mire really kidnapped kids to give them superpowers, or if the "diary" I've stolen from Alyssum Studios is just a prop and I'm freaking out over nothing.

"Not much," I reply, a part of me wishing I could trust them not to laugh at me if I told them the truth.

"You made me cover for you when you skipped yesterday but you didn't even tell me where you were. What'd you do? Rob a bank?" Mia asks, and reaching for my glasses, she says, "I need to put these on."

"Be my guest." I frown as she takes my glasses and slips them on. My world goes all fuzzy, but I can make out Mia turning to Kyle and widening her already large blue eyes.

"Do I look like a hot geek?" Mia asks.

"See him over there?" Kyle points to someone just over my shoulder. "That's a hot geek; you are a slut in glasses. Big difference."

Mia and I turn to see who Kyle's talking about. Mia laughs, but I still can't quite see.

Squinting, I realize who she's been pointing to. Drew and Ben. Ah. Kyle's right about Ben: he's definitely a geek and he's not bad looking. I'd cast him as a cute underdog; like Peter Parker or a young Clark Kent.

Mia thrusts my glasses back at me and says, "Kyle, I think it's time for you to go tell Ben you're in need of his services."

I slip my glasses on as Kyle scrunches up her nose and says, "I'm with Eric now."

"That doesn't mean you can't hang out with Ben," Mia argues. "There's nothing wrong with talking to him. Course he'd probably jizz himself before you even got a sentence out."

They laugh, but I'm confused. I plaster on a smile and quietly wonder what "jizz" means. Maybe it's a synonym for pee. I'll have to check Urban Dictionary later.

Since I've started hanging out with Mia and Kyle I've had to use Urban Dictionary on a daily basis to decode their conversations.

"Nah," Kyle says with a smile. "I'm over my hot geek phase."

I turn to her. "So, you and Ben used to date?"

Kyle shakes her head. "No. Not officially."

"Are you kidding? Ben's too nice," Mia says.

"Isn't 'nice' a good thing?" I ask. My thoughts immediately go to the way I feel about Via's brother. I like Van because he's nice.

"Yeah, actually. Nice is great." Kyle gives Mia a funny look. "Mia's just confused."

"No, I'm not," Mia says. "Nice is never good. Nice is boring and it never lasts. That's why you hook up with nice every once in a while, but you don't get into an actual relationship with nice because trust me, nice is a waste of time."

Interesting.

Nodding, I process this information and file it away for future use in AniMalls.

"Yeah, none of that's true, Andy. Don't listen to her," Kyle says, rolling her eyes. With this, she lowers her voice and continues, "But anyway, are you going to tell us where you went yesterday?"

"And what's this?" Mia reaches for the diary and grabs it before I can stop her. I nearly lose my mind as she starts thumbing through its pages. "Oh my God, Andy, is this your diary? It's so retro that you have a diary!"

My heart tripping all over itself, I take the book from Mia. "No, it's not my diary. It's an idea for a movie and I don't want anyone reading it until it's done."

"Oh." Mia rests her chin in her hands and looks me in the eye. "You're so together. You're a freshman and you already know exactly what you want and you're always, like, working towards your goals. That's freaking awesome."

"I know." Kyle nods. "Andy's the woman. I want to be like her when I grow up, except with better hair."

They laugh and heat creeps into my cheeks as Kyle pats my head, whispering, "Just kidding, bubby. Your hair's adorable. On you."

"Whatever." I shrug. "Anyway, me and my hair aren't all that great. Yesterday, I skipped to go to Alyssum Studios and I met Amelia Hearth. We were literally face to face and--"

"No way!" Mia exclaims, her eyes lighting up. "Isn't Amelia Hearth, like, your idol?"

I give Mia a second glance, surprised. I guess she is listening when I talk about my personal interests.

I smile. "Yes, well, more like, she was my idol. Yesterday she caught me trying to sneak into her office and she personally banned me from the studio. Now I can't ever go back."

Kyle makes a sympathetic clucking noise, and Mia laughs.

"Plus that," I continue, pointing to Drew and Ben. "I've been trying to interview Drew Everett for my YouTube channel since she started school here. But she keeps brushing me off and it's obvious she can't stand me. So, like I said: I'm not that great--celebrities seem to think I'm annoying."

Mia rolls her eyes. "Don't worry about Ms. Bougie Slut over there. Why do you even want to interview Drew Everett? She's such a loser."

I arch an eyebrow. "Actually, Drew's an amazing actress and if I interviewed her, do you know how much traffic my channel would get?"

"Whatever." Mia tosses her hair over her shoulder. "I'm an amazing actress and I'm the star of AniMalls--you could interview me."

"The star?" Kyle turns to her. "Mia, you're not the star of our show. There's no star."

I watch Mia carefully. She's acting especially superior today, meaning she must be overcompensating for something...maybe she and her boyfriend got into it and now she feels bad about herself.

"Did you and Ran get in another fight?" I slowly ask.

"OMG!" Mia's eyes widen. "How did you know?"

"It's not that surprising," Kyle mutters. "You fight every day."

Mia gives Kyle's hair a tug, making her shriek.

"So, what happened this time?" I ask.

Mia lowers her voice, a dark shadow overtaking her features. "This morning he was, like, all over Via Nguyen. They were practically making out right in front of me--it was so disrespectful."

Kyle and I exchange glances.

There is no way Randall Hawke would even flirt with Via Nguyen.

Kyle frowns. "Mia, I was right there and I'm pretty sure Ran and Via were just talking about a science project they have together. There was no making out."

Mia slams her fist down on the bleacher seat and when Kyle jumps, I can't help but wish I had my camera with me. This would be excellent footage for AniMalls.

"That's what he said, but it's just an excuse, Kyle! I know he likes her..." Mia continues to ramble about her boyfriend's nonexistent scandal. Well, nonexistent scandal with Via Nguyen, that is.

I glance across the gym at her boyfriend, Randall Hawke, as he sits in another set of bleachers with the girl who he most likely is cheating on Mia with--Lanie Reeves.

Ran and Lanie are always together because they're "best friends." But none of the boys I know look at their best friends the way Ran looks at Lanie. And as far as Lanie is concerned, how could you not feel something for the 6'2" hottie who follows you around, worshipping the very air you fart in?

"Mia, I really don't think Ran and Via are hooking up," Kyle says, her tone gentle.

"Agreed." I return to their conversation, nodding. "Ran's nice to everybody, including Via. And he's kind of a nerd, so he's going to make sure he does his science project, which means he'll need to--"

"I know my own boyfriend," Mia exclaims, her face turning red. "I don't need y'all to tell me about Randall Hawke. I know all about Randall Hawke..."

And here we go.

I glance down at Tessa's diary.

I don't have my camera, so there's really no point in continuing to listen to this. I might as well get out of here and research Tessa Lyles.

As I get to my feet, both girls look at me and Mia, stopping mid-rant, asks, "Where are you going?"

I point to the gym's exit doors. "I need to go take care of something. I hate to ask, but can you cover for me again?"

"Sure, yeah." Mia shrugs, suddenly calm and her face no longer red.

Geez.

I narrow my eyes at her.

Sometimes I worry about Mia. Her mood swings are so extreme that I wonder if she needs to be on some kind of medication.

"Thanks." I turn away from the two cheerleaders. "See y'all at lunch."

"OK, later, Andy," Kyle calls after me.

I hop off of the bleachers and, glancing past the basketball game, catch sight of Coach Jacobs and my P.E. teacher, Coach Wilson, in an animated discussion.

Yeah, they're not even going to notice me leaving.

I hurry to the exit doors and slip out. As soon as I step outside, the humidity takes my breath away and the Louisiana sun beats down on me with the mercy of a sadistic villain.

Ugh.

When I hit eighteen, I am so booking it to New York City. Hello snow, all four seasons, and culture; goodbye hell. I wave off a pesky mosquito, jog past the cafeteria, and head for the main building.

Our library's all the way on the second floor. I hope I can make it there without getting stopped and asked why I'm walking around the school when, according to my gym shorts and tee, I'm supposed to be in P.E.

MS. MALLORY, THE school librarian, adjusts her glasses. I adjust mine too.

I read somewhere that if you want to gain someone's trust, you should mirror their gestures and mannerisms. This makes them comfortable with you on a subconscious level.

I speak quietly, my tone a perfect imitation of Ms. Mallory's, "So, I'd only need to use a computer for just a moment. But, Ms. Mallory, there's something else I wanted to ask you. Um, if you don't mind..." I let my voice trail off.

She tilts her head and leans forward. "What?"

Ha! I've got her.

I feign shyness. "Um, you know how I have that web series on YouTube?"

She nods and a timid grin stretches itself across her lips. "Yes, of course."

"I've been wondering if you'd be interested in guest starring in an upcoming episode? The cheerleaders could film the entire episode right here in the library and it could include an interview with you."

Color rises to Ms. Mallory's cheeks and her grin widens. "Wow. Me? Here? I'd love that, but are you sure you want to film me? And the library? I've seen your show and it's so, um... dramatic. We're not all that interesting here in the library."

Good point. The school library isn't exactly the place to be. But I'm not about to admit that. Not when I need Ms. Mallory's permission to use one of the library computers even though I don't have my school ID with me and I'm obviously supposed to be in Gym class at the moment.

I frown and shake my head. "Nonsense. The cheerleaders bring drama with them wherever they go. And you are interesting. Librarians rock."

Ms. Mallory turns so red that I feel kind of guilty.

"Well, I don't know about that. But thanks, Andy. I feel so honored! Just let me know what date you'd like to do the filming," she squeaks.

"Great! Thank you, I will," I squeak in return. "Now, about that research I wanted to look up...?"

"Oh, right!" Ms. Mallory points to the available computers. "Go ahead now and use any computer you'd like. I'm sure Coach is eager for that research she sent you for."

"Thanks again," I quietly reply.

Ms. Mallory nods, still grinning and blushing.

That poor lady. I wonder what goes on in her head. Like, why is she so weird and shy? Whatever. I don't have time to analyze that right now. The next few minutes are all about proving the nonexistence of a girl named Tessa.

Pushing thoughts of a screenplay about an eccentric librarian aside, I plop down in front of a computer. I set Tessa's diary beside the mouse, log in, and type "Tessa Lyles" into the search bar. My heart pounds as I wait for Google's search results to load.

I scan the results and my gaze stops at the words: "Tessa Lyles was the wife of David Lyles and proud mother of two daughters. She was laid to rest..."

Two daughters? What if those two daughters were Tessa Jr., the girl who wrote the diary, and Tessa's bossy older sister, Karen? This could be proof of Tessa Jr.'s existence!

I click on the link and anxiously wait for the page to load.

The link sends me to an obituary notice. It states that Tessa Lyles died seventeen years ago. She was survived by her husband, David, and their two daughters -whose names, unfortunately, aren't mentioned. I frown. Though the article doesn't state the girl's names, it does mention that the Lyles lived in Peake, Alabama.

I bite down on my bottom lip, considering possibilities...this could be nothing, or it could be exactly what I'm looking for.

Chills scamper down my arms. Eager to get to the bottom of whether or not these people have anything to do with the diary, I type "David Lyles in Peake, Alabama" into the Google search bar.

Every result on the first page is garbage. I sigh, my hope waning. I click on the second page of results. Hopefully, this will contain something useful...

"Hi, Ms. Mallory, can I use one of the computers?" a familiar voice sounds at my right.

I turn to the speaker and two of the youngest cheerleaders from my AniMalls series, Meagan Nellit and Rose Snelling, hover near Ms. Mallory's desk.

"Sure, I'll just need your school ID, please," Ms. Mallory politely replies.

I shrink in my seat, hoping Meagan won't see me.

She's sweet, but she has an overly-peppy/talkative personality, the kind that the old me -the more judgmental me- wouldn't have given the time of day. I have to admit, though, now that I've embraced the "everyone is your Almost Twin" philosophy, I've actually begun to admire Meagan. Sure, the poor girl may not be able to pass Gym with anything better than a D, decode sarcasm, or even get the average joke, but she's in advanced physics and calculus classes.

There was also this one time when I was explaining to the cheerleaders how OCD and controlling my sister is. Like, I was giving them specific examples of her behavior. Meagan listened really hard, whereas Mia and Kyle were like, "Aw, that's so sad, Bubby" and then they changed the subject to whether or not Kyle should cut her hair. At that point Meagan took me aside and said she thinks Gia might be experiencing something called "dikephobia." I tried not to laugh while I said, "Nah. I'm pretty sure my sister's into guys." But then Meagan explained that dikephobia is a fear of breaking established rules, which is based on a fear of justice. She said she suspects that Gia subconsciously thinks of our Mom's death as some sort of punishment - or repayment of justice- that the universe is directing towards Gia. And she thinks that's why Gia's so scared of breaking rules: like, in the back of Gia's mind, she's afraid that breaking a rule will lead to another death.

That right there was a huge moment of clarity for me. It made me realize just how scared Gia is- she's bossy and controlling because she's afraid.

It also made me realize that Meagan is one of those books you cannot judge by its cover.

But as great as Meagan is, at the moment I have no desire to talk to her. All I want is to find out whether or not this Lyles family from Alabama has anything to do with the diary I've found.

I turn back to my computer as Ms. Mallory shushes the two cheerleaders.

I scan the results and my heart nearly stops when I read the very last result: "Peake Times news archived article: Peake's Mysterious Superhero 'Unseen'...A Myth or a Person?"

Unseen?! What was our town's superhero doing in Peake, Alabama?

I open the headline in another tab and glance at the article's date. It's from seventeen years ago.

Seventeen years ago is exactly when that woman, Tessa Lyles, died.

My nerves on edge, I read the full story:

In years past, Peake, Alabama experienced its fair share of crime, but in recent years crime has come to a seeming standstill. Residents applaud a mysterious and supposedly invisible figure they've nicknamed, "Unseen." Since the early nineties, various crimes have been thwarted with eyewitnesses claiming they've seen criminals pass out for no apparent reason in the middle of their illicit activities. Several eyewitnesses have also reported a bright light in the sky upon Unseen's departure. This has led many to believe that the small town vigilante has supernatural origins. In any case

"Andy!"

Meagan's squeal makes me jump. I turn around to face her, but I can barely manage to fake a smile as I meet her eyes. I'm still trying to wrap my head around what I've just read... seventeen years ago our Unseen was in Alabama? What was he doing there?

Meagan's face falls. "Are you all right, Andy?"

"Yeah." Rose frowns. "You look stressed or something."

I shake my head, unable to speak.

...and seventeen years ago, a woman named Tessa Lyles died in Alabama. Is there some sort of connection between these two stories?

"Are you sure?" Meagan sets a gentle hand on my shoulder.

I find my voice and say, "Yeah, I'm sure. I just have to do this thing for Coach Wilson and then get back to Gym, so I need to hurry up... sorry."

"No worries," Megan shrugs and offers me a smile.

Rose, however, is still frowning at me as she follows Meagan to the two computers across from mine.

Rose can frown all she wants. I don't care. All that matters is that I find out exactly where this David Lyles person lives, so I can call him. According to the diary, "David Lyles" was murdered. So, talking to "him" will confirm that neither his wife nor his youngest daughter had anything to do with writing that crazy little journal.

I go back to the search tab and type in the global directory's web address. Once it appears, I enter David Lyle's name and "Peake Alabama" into its address finder.

An address of 1553 Nottingham Drive in Peake, AL appears on screen and I grin.

Got it!

A list of nearby neighbors pop up below David's name and address.

Awesome! If he doesn't answer, I can call one of his neighbors and come up with an excuse to ask them questions about him.

Wanting to do a happy dance, I steal a peek at Ms. Mallory and see that she's busy.

Good.

I lean sideways and hiss, "Meagan!"

She and Rose look up.

"Can I use your phone?" I ask.

"Sure," Meagan says, as eager-to-please as ever. With this she retrieves her phone from her purse and tosses it my way.

I catch it and whisper, "Thanks," before dialing David Lyle's phone number.

"I'm sorry but the number you've dialed has been disconnected..."

Crap.

I end the call and dial the phone number of some neighbor named Terrence Wiggins.

"Hello?" a female voice asks.

"Hi, this is, um..." Thinking quickly, I say the first name I can think of, "This is Kami Davis with Channel Seven News in Swamp Rose, Louisiana. I'm trying to get in touch with a Mr. David Lyles and the only number I have for him is disconnected. Do you know of another way we might be able to get in touch with your neighbor?"

I cringe. Why did I stutter so much? That was awful. This lady is never going to give me his number.

"Sorry, but I don't know who that is. I've never heard of a David Lyles," the woman replies.

"Oh, I apologize. I thought he lived on Nottingham Street," I say and throw a glance at Ms. Mallory. Still distracted, she shuffles through the papers on her desk.

"Well, this is Nottingham St. and I know all of my neighbors. Could be he lived in the house that burned down about seventeen years ago. Sorry I can't help you," she says.

A house that burned down seventeen years ago?

My heart drops to my stomach. That's exactly what Tessa said happened to her house. She said Dr. Mire had I.T.I.S. burn it down.

Holy meatballs, this is getting real. If all of the insanity written in that diary really did happen, then Tessa might still be out there somewhere...

I take a deep breath, my mind racing. If Tessa's alive, is she still being held by I.T.I.S. or did she carry out her plan to kill Dr. Mire and escape? And if Amelia Hearth had the diary, does that mean Amelia somehow knows where Tessa is? A headache begins to form in my forehead and I massage my temples.

None of this is adding up... I feel like I'm missing a huge piece of the puzzle. Unless there isn't even a puzzle. Am I reading too much into this entire situation? Just because a house on David Lyles' street happened to burn down doesn't mean this diary is real...

"Hello," the woman on the phone says. "Hello? Are you still there?"

"Oh, uh, thank you, ma'am. Have a good day," I stammer and hang up.

Am I losing my mind?

I exhale slowly and try to calm myself.

No, I am not losing my mind. Asking questions isn't a sign of insanity. It's a sign of intelligence. If Einstein hadn't asked questions, would we know that Energy equals Mass times whatever C-squared is? Probably not. So, I shouldn't stop asking questions until I know for sure that this diary is fake.

My determination renewed, I return my attention to the computer screen and read the next neighbor's name: Barbara Davidson.

I dial Barbara Davidson's number and the phone rings. Since I'm using Kami's name, I should probably give her a heads up about what I'm doing. She won't mind that I'm impersonating her. She's a reporter; she'll understand.

I open another internet tab, pull up my email and quickly type:

Hey Kami,

Did you know that seventeen years ago there was an Unseen in Peake, Alabama?! You could research it for Channel 7, sounds like a great story.

As soon as I hit send, an elderly voice shouts, "Hello?" into my ear.

"Uh, hi. Is this Ms. Davidson?" I ask.

"What?" the woman shouts.

OMG. I'm going to have to scream for this lady to hear me.

I glance at Ms. Mallory, hop out of my seat, and make a beeline for the hallway. Ms. Mallory looks at me but allows me to pass without any questions, thank God.

I close the library door behind me and shout, "Ms. Davidson? I have a quick question for you about your former neighbor, David Lyles."

"What do you mean former?" she says in a voice so loud it makes me cringe. "He and his wife still live here. They've got two little girls, Karen and Tessa. Never properly cared for, those poor girls and the oldest one, Karen, she's a snippety little thing..."

My heart all but stops. Karen and Tessa. She said that the two girls were named Karen and Tessa- just like the two sisters in the diary!

"Oh, my Lord." Ms. Davidson pauses and then sighs. "I'd almost forgotten about their mother, Tessa -that's her name- she just killed herself. Took a whole bottle of sleeping pills. I must have forgotten. I forget so much..." The elderly woman's voice trails off.

My thoughts race. What if this old lady is senile and she's remembering what happened to the Lyles' family seventeen years ago? This lady might think she's still living in 1997.

Nearly breathless, I ask, "Ms. Davidson, can you tell me what year it is right now?"

"It's nineteen-ninety seven...wait a minute, who is this? Why are you calling here?" she shouts.

Holy Hitchcock- I'm right. I'm so stinking right!

I hang up and rush back into the library.

Ms. Mallory gives me a look. "Everything okay, Andy?"

No. Everything is so not at all okay... the diary is freaking real!

"Yeah, but I'd better get back to class," I lie as I hurry towards the computer.

I take a deep breath.

Okay, think, Andy... think. I need to somehow get my butt to Peake, Alabama and figure out what happened to Tessa Lyles.

Nearly dizzy with questions, I slide into my seat and sign out of the computer.

Gia and Dad are going to freak all the way out if they find out I've gone to Alabama. But I have to find Tessa and make sure she's safe. That's what matters most. And... oh, crap. Going to Alabama requires money. I have no money. How am I going to find the change to pay for a trip to Alabama?

"I can't; it's too expensive," Rose says in a voice that's loud enough to make me look up.

"But I'm saying I'll pay for your ticket," Meagan replies with a shrug. "That's my point. My parents don't care; they're loaded. And everyone else is going. Just let me pay for you."

I grin.

Well, that was almost too easy.

Relieved, I leave my computer and head to Meagan. "Hey, Meagan?" She and Rose turn to me and I offer them my sweetest smile. "I wonder if you can help me with a little project..."

#

#

# _Loneliness_

For the first time in at least three months I am enjoying lunch with my best friend- and yet I am not enjoying lunch with my best friend.

I take a bite of my Kashi bar and look at Via.

She sits on the bench we share: cross-legged and her phone to her ear, she finishes her half of my peanut butter and honey sandwich. Just beyond our bench, several twelfth grade girls who are also on their lunch breaks intermittently glare at Via while they whisper to each other.

Via, of course, is oblivious to their gossip. She simply continues her phone conversation.

"Gia was so nervous," she says with a laugh, "that she started breaking out! I'm totally not kidding, Heath. That's what happens to her around cute guys. She either breaks out in hives or sweats uncontrollably."

I sigh and watch Via laughingly continue, "Wait, Heath, I'm not finished! Listen to this- she was so freaked out all she could think to do was slather her ice cream all over her face to cover the hives. Can you believe that?"

I hear Heath laughing on the other line.

I roll my eyes and turn away from their conversation.

There was a time when I would've laughed about that story too. But my social tragedies with the opposite sex lost their humor around ninth grade. That was when I realized no one else my age was literally afraid of the guys they had crushes on. That was also around the time Via began ditching me to hang out with the guys she liked.

A peal of laughter erupts from the nearby seniors. I cast a discreet glance their way and all four of them are eyeing Via, their heads bowed in gossip.

Good Lord. How does she not hear those girls? Whenever she's talking to Heath, it's as if she goes deaf and blind to anything else around her. She's obsessed with the nimrod.

I glance down and kick at a blade of grass that's taller than the surrounding blades.

I understand that Heath is handsome. There's no denying his square jaw, bright blue eyes, and athletic build. And I understand that he's "a big deal" on SLH's football and wrestling teams. But when your handsome and popular boyfriend has a horrible temper and an even worse drinking problem, is he really worth your time?

I ball up my empty Kashi wrapper, toss it into a nearby trash can, and dare a glance at Via. Our eyes meet. She points to her phone and makes a "blah blah" gesture with her free hand.

I offer her a polite smile.

"Yeah, Heath. I'm with my twin right now," Via says. She grins and pats my shoulder. "She's sitting here obsessing about something all by herself while you hog her best friend."

"I'm not the one who's obsessed," I mutter.

Oh my Lord, I said that out loud! I freeze in horror.

What's wrong with me? I really hope she didn't hear me...

I offer Via a quick smile and continue to pray that she didn't hear my little quip.

Via grins back at me, but the smile doesn't reach her eyes.

I nervously smooth down my blouse. Dear God, please don't let me do anything to ruin this lunch ...

Via's grin disappears as she returns her full attention to her conversation. "Heath, you don't have to talk to that girl." Her face falls. "No. I don't want you talking to Mia Reeves! She's...oh. Okay. Fine, whatevs. But make it quick, we're waiting on you. Bye, bye bae." She hangs up and grimaces, her shoulders sagging while she turns to me. "Sorry about that. He's on his way to meet us, but he got stopped by Mia. She says she wants to talk to him about something important. Can you believe her? What could she possibly have to talk to my boyfriend about?"

"You've got to be kidding me," I blurt. "Heath's on his way to meet us and you still spent the last fifteen minutes on the phone with him?"

Via arches an eyebrow and the look on her face tells me that I need to explain myself.

"I'm not trying to be mean," I quickly say. "But, don't you think that's a little excessive?"

Via extends a hand my way and her bracelets clang, creating a racket. She gently pats the top of my head. "Gia, Gia, Gia. I can't wait until you fall in love. When it happens, I'm so going to remind you of all the smack you talk."

"What? No. I don't talk smack." I blink back at her. "Honestly, I'm not even sure what "smack" is, but I'm sure it's not the sort of thing I'd say."

Via rolls her eyes. "Just wait, one day you'll find your guy and I'll be waiting in the wings to be all like, "Gia, why are you on the phone with him again? Isn't that a little excessive?""

I force a smile. "Okay, okay."

Via changes her tone to a higher pitch, like she's trying to imitate my voice, "Or, "Gia, why are you hanging out with your boyfriend when you could hang out with me and Andy and listen to us argue for three straight hours?""

My face warms and I'm not quite sure what to say.

I'm still smiling, but Via isn't. Her grin has been replaced by a thin-lipped grimace and there's a stubborn set to her jaw. It reminds me of the way my little sister, Lulu, looks before she bursts into a temper tantrum.

"I never said that," I finally say.

"Right. You've only said that Heath isn't good enough for me, that he's a cheater and an alcoholic and blasé, blasé..." A burst of giggles sounds from the nearby group of whispering seniors and Via's voice trails off. She glances at them as she says, "You're so critical."

"I'm not critical, I'm honest with you because I care about you!" I exclaim. The shrillness in my tone startles me. But it seems to alarm Via even more. Her eyes widen and she looks at me like I've slapped her.

Oh, no.

I pause to compose myself. I inhale the crisp winter air, clasp my hands together in my lap and soften my tone, "You're my best friend. I care about you. That's why I said those things about Heath."

"No." Via's voice is barely above a whisper. She resituates her gaze to somewhere beyond my right shoulder and grabs a strand of her long hair. She twirls it around her index finger. "You say things like that because you don't understand me."

My mouth falls open.

We've been inseparable since Middle School- how can she assert that I don't understand her? I know Via better than anyone!

Despite my internal emotional implosion, I maintain my poise and politely ask, "What, exactly, don't I understand?"

Via looks at me, her eyes full of disdain as she gives me a slow blink. "Tell me about your first kiss."

I stare back at her, confused.

Is she trying to change the subject? And why is she asking me about my first kiss? She knows that hasn't happened for me yet.

As Via arches one of her dark eyebrows, I realize that this in itself is her point.

"For one," she says, "you have no idea what it's like to be kissed, held, or loved by a guy. So, you don't understand how Heath makes me feel."

I swallow and fight the urge to fidget.

What can I say? Via's right. All I can do is sit here and stare at her while she relocates her gaze to somewhere over my shoulder, her expression vacillating between passion and anguish.

I dig my right thumb into the palm of my left hand. It's true that I've never been kissed. Actually, I've never even been asked out. So, no, I don't know what it's like to be wanted by a member of the opposite sex.

A pang of longing, sudden and sharp, sinks down on me. My eyes fill and I blink quickly to stop the tears from spilling over. Dear Lord, please don't let me start crying over this.

Fortunately, Via isn't looking at me. "And," she quietly continues, "you don't understand what it's like to not be loved by the two people who were supposed to love you the second you were born." Her mouth tightens, as if saying this has put her in physical pain. "That's what you don't understand."

My heart breaks in sympathy. I dismiss my own sadness, lean forward, and cover Via's hand with my palm. She looks at me in surprise.

"Actually we do have that in common," I speak gently. "My mom's gone. That's a void I completely understand. And you know how my dad's been since she died. He's rarely home."

"That's different." Via shakes her head and moves her hand away. I try not to feel defeated as I return mine to my lap. "Your Mom was amazing. She loved you in a way I can't even understand. Like, when she looked at you, I could see the love in her face. It was like a visible thing. You and your sisters were her everything." Via's nose turns pink and the pain in her eyes sends a lump to my throat. "I don't think my Mom's ever looked at me like that."

I want to give her a hug, but I'm not sure how she'll react. So, instead I open my mouth to tell her that her mom does love her, but before I can get the words out, she's talking again.

"I can't go to her for advice or talk to her about my feelings, I can't even... when she looks at me there's no love. It's like, I'm like- I'm like...," Via frowns as she searches for the right words. "It's like I'm some expensive piece of furniture that hasn't lived up to her expectations and she can't throw me away because, hey, she bought and paid for me, so she's got to put up with me. My own mother doesn't love me, Gia."

I start to point out that if Ms. Nguyen didn't love her, she wouldn't worry about her so much, but Via continues, "You have no idea what that's like." She shakes her head. "And yeah, your dad might work long hours, but he does that because he loves y'all, he's just trying to take care of his family. Your situation's totally different."

She's right about my dad. It's different for us - he might spend a lot of time at work, but it's not by choice. If money weren't so tight, he'd be at home with us.

Unsure of what to say, I watch the pain in Via's eyes grow until it's even bigger than she is. Like it's this whole other person inside of her, clawing to get out.

I don't know what to do. So, I just sit there, my hands in my lap, feeling helpless and foolish.

"I mean, come on," Via mumbles, "has your dad ever ditched you to move in with a twenty-two year old who dresses like a hooker?"

"Your dad didn't leave you," I point out. "He left your Mom. That's a big difference."

"Oh, my God, Gia." She waves me off and rolls her eyes. "Whatever. You just don't get it. And that's my whole point. You don't understand. Maybe one day you'll understand at least half of what I'm going through. Like, you'll fall in love with some great guy and you'll be the one who can't tear yourself away from him."

"Maybe," I quietly reply.

For a moment, neither of us says a word. The gossipy seniors have disbanded and in their absence a heavy silence falls between us. The breeze that rustles the leaves around us is refreshing, but it doesn't mask the tension that's suddenly filled the air.

My nerves on edge, I glance at Via and she's refusing to look at me.

I think...that maybe we've just had our first fight.

She takes a swig from her bottle of water. "Remember when we were in middle school and me, you, and Latonya used to stay up all night talking about what the "Perfect Guy" would be like?"

I nod while she toys with the heart-shaped silver earrings Heath gave her a few months back.

"It's funny how when you finally find him," she says, leaning back and looking up at the sky, "he's not at all what you expected. He's not perfect, but then he kind of is. Like, Heath's screwed up. I get that, I'm not blind. But it's like I don't care because I love him the way he is. And I'm just relieved he loves me."

She turns to me, her dark eyes narrowed and challenging, as if she's daring me to disagree with her.

The remnants of my Kashi bar are beginning to feel like sandpaper in the back of my throat. I gulp and look down at my hands. "Well," I quietly say, "if that's how you feel. Okay."

"Wow, Gia."

I look up to find her smiling at me, but without a trace of genuine joy.

"Thanks for your approval," Via says, her every word dripping with sarcasm.

Heat rises to my cheeks. "Via, why are you being so-"

Before I can finish my sentence, she jumps off the bench and screeches, "OMG, is that the third amigo?" Her fake smile stretches into a real one as she rushes towards our friend Latonya, the third member of "The Three Amigos," which is what my mom used to call the three of us back in middle school.

"Dude!" Via shrieks while she grabs Latonya's hands. "Are you seriously going to eat lunch with us?"

Via's happy shrieks pepper the air and I...well, I feel like I've just been in a car accident. Numb, I watch Via hug Latonya as what's happening begins to dawn on me: Via doesn't want to be my friend anymore.

Tears sting my eyes. I take a deep breath and blink them away.

She hates me.

"Yeah, I'm going to eat lunch with y'all," Latonya squeals, jumping up and down with Via. "I miss you dorks!"

I watch the two of them, my frustrated thoughts bouncing back to our days in Middle School. Mom used to say the three of us acted like triplets that had been separated at birth.

If Mom were still alive today, she wouldn't believe how much things have changed since Middle School. Now, Latonya spends most of her time with a new group of friends, Via's been branded as the school slut, and I'm...well, I don't even know what I am. I guess maybe I'm a friendless loser.

I look down at my hands.

What would Mom say if she were here to see all of this?

"Hey!" Latonya's voice pulls me from my stupor and I realize she's staring at me, her eyebrows raised. "Why do you look so depressed?"

I force a smile. "I'm not depressed."

Via takes a swig of her water and says, "She's fine."

I glance at Via, but she refuses to meet my eyes.

If Latonya notices the tension between me and Via, she doesn't let on. Instead, she wiggles her butt with exaggerated sexiness and tosses her long braids over her shoulder while she says, "Gia's like, 'Yea, I'm fine! Just look at me in my cute white top and tight skinny jeans!'"

I grin and Latonya drops her overdramatic act to clap me on the shoulder, "Finally! A real smile--that's better." She adjusts her cute, off-the-shoulder blouse and plops down beside me on the bench. "So, why is your little sister finagling money out of the AniMalls?"

Between what's just happened with Via and the fact that Latonya is finally breaking her mom's 'no-association-with-Via-Nguyen-rule' to eat lunch with us, I'm incredibly confused.

"What?" I ask. "What are you talking about?"

"I just came from the cafeteria," Latonya says, pushing one of her braids out of her face. "And Andy's with a bunch of the cheerleaders from her show. It looks like they're doing some kind of fundraiser."

"Great," I mutter. I grab my purse and stand. "I'd better go see what havoc she's wreaked."

"It doesn't look like there's any havoc," Latonya says. "It just looks like a fundraiser."

"Well, I know my little sister and there's definitely some havoc involved," I retort as I dust off my jeans.

Via uses her water bottle to point to me. "Those actually really are cute jeans," she says, an unspoken apology threading her words. "You look super pretty today."

"Thanks." Our eyes meet and I smile nervously.

"Sure." Via returns my grin with a small one of her own.

I hesitate, wanting to clarify what's happening ... is this her making up with me? Or is it just a compliment? Are we still friends?

Before I can formulate a sentence, Via turns away from me and strikes up a conversation with Latonya.

I watch the two of them talk.

Why am I just standing here?

"Um, I'll be right back, you guys," I say rather awkwardly.

Neither Via nor Latonya seem to hear me.

I sigh and start towards the cafeteria.

AS I ROUND the corner to the cafeteria, Mia Reeves- the most popular girl in school- is running up to Andy.

I stop in my tracks. Usually, I give Mia a second glance to admire her outfits, but at the moment Mia is wearing a dorky sandwich sign that says: "Homemade Kickstarter--Support Your Local Film Maker, Andrea Moretti."

What. The. Heck?

Mia moves to stand beside my sister. She points to her sign and shouts, "Y'all, come check this out!"

And the thing is, people are actually checking it out.

There's an entire circle of supporters--a crowd--surrounding my little sister, and most of them are holding money in their hands.

Why didn't Andy tell me she was doing a fundraiser? And, how is my geeky little sister this popular?

Elizabeth O'Brien and another cheerleader who I recognize from the AniMalls series stand near Andy, collecting money for whatever this is they're doing.

I know people watch Andy's little YouTube show and I know the cheerleaders don't mind her following them around, but this is insane. Andy is literally surrounded by a crowd of fans!

Elizabeth turns to Andy, her right fist raised. Andy grins and meets Elizabeth's fist with her own.

Seriously?

The chick who treats me like I'm the biggest nerd on the planet because I can solve for X without having an aneurysm is fist bumping my little sister?

I cross my arms and glare at some skinny guy who's wearing a ratty t-shirt that looks like it needs to be washed hand Mia a wad of money. Mia's eyes widen. She shrieks with joy and kisses him right on the mouth.

Okay, you know what? Maybe these cheerleaders are pretending to be Andy's friends. Maybe they're tricking her into thinking they're helping her, when really they're just going to keep all this money for themselves. That has to be what they're doing because otherwise, why would they help her?

I start forward and then stop as butterflies fill my stomach.

Do I really want to approach a swarm of cheerleaders?

"Andy!" Mia shouts. "Take this. It's three hundred, little sis."

Little sis? Okay, I'm done here.

I resituate my purse on my shoulder, turn around, and head back to our bench on the school's front lawn.

Those snobby girls aren't Andy's "sisters." I am. I'm the one who consoled Andy when Mom died, I'm the one who washes Andy's clothes because she never remembers to when our hamper is full- I'm Andy's sister! But you wouldn't know it, considering that she never tells me things anymore.

I step on a twig and it snaps beneath my sandal.

"Uh oh." Latonya's voice pulls me from my thoughts. I look up to find her leaving our bench and headed my way. She tilts her head, watching me carefully. "You're upset. What happened?"

"Nothing." I look around for Via, but she's nowhere in sight.

"That's not the face of 'nothing.' You look like you just found out Selena's back with Justin," Latonya says.

I stop in my tracks. "You're kidding."

She chuckles and waves a mosquito away. "Yeah. I just meant you look disgusted. So spill it--what's wrong? Is there a problem with you and Via? Because there was a really weird vibe between the two of you when I first came over here."

I sigh. What I'm feeling is almost too difficult to explain. If I flat out tell Latonya exactly what I'm thinking, she'll assume I've become a needy and friendless weirdo.

"I don't know," I finally say. My gaze darts to a yellow butterfly that's drifting our way. "I guess I'm confused because I can't figure people out lately."

I turn to Latonya and she's shading her eyes from the sun. Squinting, she says, "What do you mean?"

"To be specific, it's not just a problem with V. It's Andy too. I don't know what's going on with them because neither of them talk to me anymore. They've all but shut me out of their lives." I reach into my purse, retrieve my shades, and hand them to Latonya. "And speaking of V, where'd she go?"

"Thanks." She puts the sunglasses on. "Guess who showed up and told her they needed to talk? I think she and Heath went to go 'hang out' in his new truck."

I roll my eyes.

Heath totaled his old truck a month ago in a DWI accident that nearly got him kicked off the football team.

I shake my head. "She really thinks she's in love with him."

"Yeah, totes. Otherwise why'd she still be with him after that pregnancy scare?" Latonya says.

Pregnancy scare? I stop in my tracks.

"If I thought some sixteen-year-old alcoholic who cheated on me every other week got me knocked up, I'd break up with him as soon as..." Latonya's voice trails off as she realizes I'm not beside her.

She turns back to me and I can't see her eyes behind the dark shades, but her mouth is open in surprise. "Oh my God, you didn't know?"

I shake my head, unable to speak.

Latonya takes the glasses off and looks into my eyes, hers softening. "Don't feel bad, she didn't tell me either. I heard about it from one of the cheerleaders. She said she ran into Heath and Via at Corner Mart last night. They were buying a pregnancy test. That's why I'm kind of breaking my Mom's rule and hanging out with V, I figured she could use some support."

So that's why Via was crying yesterday.

Why didn't she just tell me? I would've gotten a test for her, or better yet, me and Andy would've taken her to a doctor. All she had to do was say something.

"Is she, um,...was the test positive?" I stammer.

Latonya shakes her head. She slips the glasses back on and we continue our stroll to nowhere. "She's not pregnant. I talked to her about it a few minutes ago and she said the test was negative. Everything's okay."

I fold my arms across my stomach and walk beside Latonya in silence. My gaze goes to our school's impressive entrance.

Last schoolyear, when Via and I walked through those front doors for freshman orientation, we were beside ourselves with nervous excitement. We didn't know if we'd fit in, if any of the boys we liked would like us, or if we'd do okay in our classes. But there was one factor that made the unknown more exciting than scary: we had each other.

I knew that The Sisterhood of Traveling Pants was Via's favorite movie and she knew The Fault in Our Stars was mine. I knew that if she was having a bad day, I could fix it by bringing her one of the toffee candies she likes from Corner Bakery and she could tell, just by looking at me, if I was especially missing my mom.

But now I have no idea what's happening in Via's life- other than the nasty rumors I hear every now and then- and she doesn't even pay attention to what's going on with me.

"You look really miserable, Gia," Latonya says, her voice soft.

"I still can't believe Via didn't tell me," I say.

"But can't you understand why she didn't?"

I give Latonya a look. "I understand that friends are supposed to talk to each other. I mean, isn't that the definition of friendship? People who talk to each other and support each other."

"I'm just saying, if I thought I was pregnant, I'd tell two people: my mom and the idiot who knocked me up. The last thing I'd do is rush out to tell my friends at school. Especially if I had a reputation like Via's."

I tense at the mention of Via's "reputation." I hate it when people bring that up.

The lunch bell rings and Latonya hands me my sunglasses. I take them, unsure of what to say. Latonya gives my arm a pat. "Don't get me wrong, I know how you feel. I miss V, she's so much fun and now it's like we never see her. But I think that if V needs privacy, we need to respect that. And when she finally realizes she needs us, we just have to make sure we're there." Latonya nods towards the school entrance. "I've got to run to my locker before class, so I'd better go."

"Okay, see you later."

I've barely finished my sentence and Latonya's already hurrying away. She passes a group of guys who shout "hey's" to her. One of them jokingly yanks at her braids.

I'm sure Latonya does miss Via, but I'm also sure that it's different for her. She has other friends. I don't.

I trudge up the steps leading to the school's entrance and Latonya's words ring in my ears: If V needs privacy, we need to respect that.

Do I really seem like I don't respect that? Is it wrong of me to expect honest communication with my best friend?

I start to open one of SLH's heavy front doors when someone calls my name.

I turn around and Elizabeth O'Brien is rushing towards me.

Surprised, I smooth down my blouse and try to sound casual as I say, "Hey."

"I completely forgot about tutoring. Your little sister ambushed me right when lunch started, she said she needed help with something. I'm so s-sorry, Gia." Elizabeth's apology is rushed and she stammers over the word "sorry."

I stare at her, standing before me out of breath from running and looking...nervous.

Holy Maloley. I guess this skin-tight-clothes-and-leather-jacket-wearing girl is human after all. Something inside of me softens and I smile. "No worries, it's alright. Andy can be pretty convincing when she wants help with something."

Elizabeth exhales and relief appears in her eyes. "I know, right? The girl's unstoppable."

"Trust me, I know. So, do you want to do the math tutoring this weekend?" I ask.

"Can't." Elizabeth fiddles with the zipper on her black mini. "I just found out I have to work all weekend."

Work? SLH cheerleaders don't work. They focus on cheering, getting decent grades, and maintaining their popularity. I start to say this when something Andy mentioned comes to mind..."E has to help her mom pay their rent because her dad's too busy getting arrested..."

Oh.

I give Elizabeth a second look and ask, "So, what day's good for you?"

She sighs and rubs her forehead. "Um, I have to work tonight, but maybe tomorrow after school?"

She looks so hopeful that a tug on my heartstrings moves me to offer her another smile. "Sure."

"Thank you so much," she says, backing away. "Later, Gia." With this, she turns on her heel and heads back to the school's front lawn.

I wonder why she's going that way when it's time to go to class. Curious, I watch Elizabeth retrieve her phone from her purse and bring it to her ear.

"Dad," she hisses, "please tell me you're at home and not out doing what I think you're doing. We talked about this! You can't..."

That's so sad.

I shake my head, turn away from Elizabeth's family problems, and push open the school's front doors. My thoughts return to Via.

If that had been Via on the phone with her dad, I would've followed her so I could hear the rest of her conversation and then offered her a shoulder to cry on after she hung up. But maybe that in itself is the problem. Maybe people don't want a shoulder to cry on. And maybe I'm pushing them away by caring too much.

In situations like that I assume people want support, because that's what I'd want. But apparently I'm the weird one. Here I am making a big issue out of everything and scaring people away with my dramatics.

Why do I have to be so different?

I sigh and trudge into Drama class.

"Gia?" Ms. Karin Greenich, my Drama teacher, sits at her desk on the other side of the classroom and I turn to find her waving me over.

"Yes, ma'am?" I ask as I approach her desk.

Karin Greenich is one of my favorite teachers. She's great about encouraging us to say whatever we're thinking without criticism. This leads to a lot of open discussions in her class, even though it's just Drama. And though I'm not the world's biggest theater fan, I love Ms. Greenich's teaching style. So, I'm glad I opted on her class as an elective.

"You seem deep in thought," Ms. Greenich says. "Everything all right?"

"Yes, ma'am. Everything's fine."

"Good." She toys with an odd looking ring on her middle finger and continues to assess me. "But if you are worried about something, that's good too."

"Sorry?"

She smiles. "Like I said, you look like you're deep in thought, maybe even worried. And my point is that if you are worried, that's okay."

I return her smile. "I think you're the first person who's ever told me that. Most people tell me to stop being such a worrywart."

She chuckles. "Well, if we didn't have some anxiety, we wouldn't prepare for the unexpected, would we?"

"When you put it that way... yeah I guess it's not so bad to be prepared."

"Exactly. We "worrywarts" may be a little anxious, but our tendency to brace for the unexpected is part of what makes us good leaders," Ms. Greenich says. "In a crisis, people turn to the ones who are prepared - the ones like you." She points to me and smiles. "You're a natural leader. That's a good thing."

I force a smile and tuck my hair behind my ears.

Maybe that used to be true. Now, I don't seem to do anything but scare people away. That's why I'm a friendless loser.

"Thanks, Ms. Greenich," I say, my voice cracking.

"It's the truth." She gives me a second glance. "Of course sometimes even the best leaders take on too much responsibility. That's one thing I had to learn when I started teaching." She sighs and turns her attention to a messy stack of papers on her desk. She aligns them and says, "I care about my students, but I can't control their decisions."

I nod and think of Via.

"It took me a while to figure out," she says, "that caring about someone doesn't mean controlling them. It just means showing them kindness. Even when they're not kind."

As she says this, I recall the way Via glared at me during our fight- that awful look of disdain in her eyes. A lump forms in the back of my throat and I resist the urge to cry.

Via lashed out at me and I lashed right back. If I hadn't gotten upset- if I'd been kinder- then maybe our conversation would have ended on a positive note.

"... I used to be so pushy with my students," Ms. Greenich continues. "I'd tell them exactly what I thought they should do with their lives and- well, I was just bossy and judgmental. It took about two years for me to realize that kindness was the best way to reach them. That instead of criticizing, I should gently guide them towards the right path, and whether or not they choose it is completely up to them. Anything more would be overstepping."

I glance at Ms. Greenich. She frowns down at the paper on top of the stack she's just straightened. It's odd that she's saying this to me. It's almost like she knows I need to hear it. But that's impossible. How would she know?

Ms. Greenich turns to me and smiles, "You're probably wondering why I'm saying all of this."

Good Lord. It's like she's reading my mind.

I return her smile and shift on my feet. "I guess, sort of... yes."

"Well, you looked a little anxious- with a very specific kind of anxiety- the kind that someone like me recognizes. So, I just felt like I should say something." Ms. Greenich laughs and says, "Of course I could have been way off the mark. Was I?"

"No," I confess. "You didn't just hit the mark, you obliterated it."

She laughs again. "Okay, good. And before you take your seat, I just want to say one last thing." Ms. Greenich meets my eyes. "I don't know if you realize this, Gia, but you're the most responsible student in this class, maybe even in the entire tenth grade. You're exceptional. Remember that."

My mouth turns up into a smile and a surge of pride courses through me. "Thank you."

"You're quite welcome." Ms. Greenich nods. A few of my classmates trickle in, their laughter and talking filling the room with noise. "All right," Ms. Greenich says with a smile. "My rambling is complete. You're free."

I grin and head to my desk, confused yet elated by her impromptu pep talk.

I slide into my seat and get out my Drama class notebook, pencil, and pencil sharpener. My mind, however, is on anything but Drama.

It's been a while since someone called me "exceptional." Mom used to call me that a lot... if she were here now, would she still think I'm exceptional?

As my classmates file in, filling the room with their chatter, a sort of hollow feeling settles down on me, it scatters my good mood until every aspect of it is gone. While the kids around me discuss their weekend plans, giggle, and complain about homework, I sit at my desk, silent and alone.

I clasp my hands together, wishing I could squash the hollow feeling in my gut. But it doesn't budge.

I think this is what it is to feel completely alone.

I sigh, bite down on my bottom lip, and try to control the tears that threaten to make an appearance in my eyes.

Why can't I be like everyone else? Everyone else has someone- a Mom, a best friend, or a boyfriend -why can't I have at least one of those? Why do I have to be so alone?

#

#

# _Desperation_

Loneliness is a choice. I realized that the day my dad left. It was a Sunday afternoon and I was crouched by my bedroom window watching him shove a suitcase into the trunk of his car. When he closed the trunk, his phone rang. He answered it, threw a cautious glance back at our house, and ever so slightly, turned away while he spoke into the phone. I couldn't see much of his face, but in the glimpse that I caught I watched his lips form four words- I love you too\- four words that I'd rarely heard him say to my mother. Now he was saying them to some woman named "Crystal."

That's when it hit me why Dad was leaving. He wasn't running away because he couldn't stand me or my brother or even our ice queen of a mother- it was the loneliness he couldn't stand.

When it came to choosing between being lonely and being loved, Dad opted on what any man would choose. And as much as it sucked to watch him drive away, I understood his decision. We're born alone and we're most likely going to die alone, but we can choose not to live alone. So, I blame my father for a lot of things, but I can't totally blame him for choosing love over loneliness.

I guess the one silver lining in his decision to leave is that it sort of forced me to come face to face with reality: if a woman doesn't want to end up alone, she has to make herself lovable. That's life. And as stupid as Dad's girlfriend, Crystal, is, I have to give her props for working with reality- she's got my Dad stuck to her like glue.

I, on the other freaking hand, am a completely different story. Not only did I just pick a fight with my one actual friend, but now, at this very minute, my boyfriend is basically on the verge of breaking up with me again.

So, here we sit in Heath's truck, me trying to figure out how I'm going to save our relationship, and Heath...well, I guess he's trying to find the courage to cut me loose.

I shake my head, suck in air through my gritted teeth and train my eyes on the cinnamon scented air-freshener hanging from his mirror.

"Why are you shaking your head?" Heath demands. He brings his fist down on the steering wheel. As he does this, I get a huge whiff of the Armani Acqua Di Gio I bought him last month.

I thought I smelled it earlier, and now I know for sure.

"I knew it." I uncross my arms and turn to him. "You do like it."

"Are you kidding?" Heath's scowl deepens. "You think I like people thinking you're sleeping around?"

"No, Heath! I'm talking about the cologne I bought you last month. You said it smelled awful and I had bad taste! So, why are you wearing it?"

"I lied." Lowering his voice, he narrows his eyes. "Cuz I was mad at you."

I groan and turn away from him. He says this so easily, like it's no big deal that he lied and made me feel bad. Why does he have to be such a jerk sometimes?

My fists clenched, I bite down on my bottom lip and glare at him. And how does he not know how sexy he looks when he narrows his stupid gorgeous eyes like that?

He blinks. "V, stop."

"Stop what? I'm not doing anything!"

"Stop looking at me like that. You can't just do that to get whatever you want."

"I'm not looking at you like anything. You're the one making us fight. We were fine until you started another fight." I punch his right shoulder and he grabs my arm. Butterflies fill my stomach as we lock eyes and like a complete moron, I start grinning.

I swear it's an involuntary reaction- it just happens. Whenever he touches me, I turn into a grinning idiot.

Heath's eyes soften, but he's still sort of scowling as he releases my arm and turns away from me. "You know exactly what you're doing," he mutters.

"No, I don't."

Ignoring me, he stares straight ahead.

"I never know what I'm doing with you," I say. "But I know what I feel, and I love you. Even when I don't want to, I still do."

He turns to me. "You say that, but then you get texts from other guys and Mia tells me you're trying to hook up with her boyfriend. So what am I supposed to think?"

A surge of anger tears through me. Stupid Mia. Why is she out to get me? What did I ever do to her?

I lean towards Heath and he visibly tenses, but his gaze doesn't leave mine as I say, "I would never cheat on you. Not with Mia's boyfriend, not with that guy who texted me, not with anybody."

He searches my eyes and quietly says, "I want to trust you."

"Then, trust me."

"How?" Frustration in his voice, he breaks eye contact and absently turns to stare at the cluster of oak trees that lead to our school's front lawn. "I can't just ignore people when they say you're--"

"Think about it, Heath," I exclaim, hitting the armrest between us. He turns to me. "Think about who you'd rather trust--some psychotic cheerleader or your own girlfriend? And if you'd rather trust Mia, then maybe you just don't want to be with me. Maybe that's our whole problem right there."

My throat tightens and I take a deep breath.

Please, please don't let him agree with that. Please...

Heath sighs and rubs his eyes, suddenly looking very tired. "I don't know, V," He speaks slowly, not quite looking at me. "Maybe this is too hard. Maybe we should just--"

"No," I cut him off, my heart sinking.

Heath looks at me, his face falling.

"It's too hard? Come on, really?" My voice cracks. "Is kissing me really that hard?" I know I must sound desperate, but at this point I don't care.

"You know what I mean," he quietly replies.

All I know is I can't let him leave me.

"No, I don't know what you mean," I say, moving towards him. "You'll have to explain yourself."

"What are you doing?" His eyes narrow as I make my way across the armrest.

"This is what you do when you love someone." I press myself against Heath until his breathing grows shallow- a good sign. I look into his eyes and whisper, "You start with a kiss..." I kiss him as fiercely as humanly possible and he immediately responds.

As soon as he gets into the kiss I ditch my t-shirt- which is super difficult seeing as I'm sandwiched between him and the steering wheel.

Heath stops kissing me, but his breath is warm against my neck as he says, "Via, maybe we shouldn't -"

I shut him up with another kiss and reach for his belt.

He doesn't understand. There is no 'maybe we shouldn't' option. Not for someone like me. I'm not a loveable person. And in my case, this is always what it takes.

I plant a kiss on Heath's collarbone and unlatch his belt.

The first time I did this--not with Heath--I mean, the first time ever, it was awful.

It was my freshman year and I'd met up with a senior on the football team. I barely knew him, but he was hot and I was going through a lot and I just wanted... I don't know, I guess I just wanted to feel something other than clawing depression. Anyway, the guy turned out to be a complete jerk. For one, I had no idea that he was recording us on his phone. And secondly, I only found out because the next day at school, everyone was giggling and whispering about a video called Easy V. I watched it and cried for, like, two straight hours. Sure, you can't see my face, but everyone at SLH knew it was me because he told them. Eventually, the whole school got around to calling me "Easy."

I know I should've pressed charges but I was too embarrassed to tell my parents, let alone tell a lawyer and go to court or whatever. So, basically, I'll never live that down, which sucks.

"V-" Heath whispers.

"No talking," I order. The words have barely left my lips when a knocking sound on the truck's window startles me. Heath, just as surprised as I am, jumps and curses under his breath.

I turn to the truck's window and there's our school's principal, staring down at us in horror.

Fear tears through me and I scramble for my shirt.

This is the last thing I need right now.

#

#

# _The Tessa Lyles Project_

The afternoon sun bears down on me as I run down the sidewalk from our school's main building, headed towards the photo lab.

I hate that I'm ditching Ms. Karin's drama class. Typically, her class is the highlight of my afternoon. But the Tessa Lyles Project is more important than drama.

I glance over my shoulder to make sure no one's watching me. I don't see any janitors, teachers, or students milling around- the coast is clear. I take a deep breath, open the door to the photo lab, and step inside.

Acrid fumes emanating from the nearby darkroom hit me with a punch. I wrinkle my nose and shut the door behind me. Sliding my backpack off, I set it on the counter.

Despite our school photo lab's awful smell, it's the best place to get the ball rolling on this Trip to Alabama thing because hardly anyone ever comes in here.

I reach into the front of my backpack, retrieve my phone, and scroll through my contacts for Uncle Tim.

Gia calls Dad's younger brother "irresponsible" and "immature" because last year he ditched college to tend bar at Club Dixie. Gia might be right, but I prefer to think of Uncle Tim as "carefree" and "always available to star in my movies because he has the time and needs the money if it's a "paying gig."

In any case, right now I really hope he needs some extra cash because, my God, do I have a job for him.

I hit call and drum my fingers on the counter as I glare at some photography student's black and white photo of a cat on a windowsill.

"Andy?" Uncle Tim answers, his voice groggy.

"Yeah, you still asleep?"

"Uh, no, no...what's up?" he asks as I hear something that sounds like a bed creak and then loud footsteps hitting the floor.

It's nearly two in the afternoon and he's just now waking up? If Gia's right about him, I'm screwed. And so is Tessa Lyles...if she's still alive, that is.

"I have a project and I need your help; I can pay you."

"Oh, yeah, sure, no problem. What are you, uh, making another movie?" he asks and I hear a door open on his end.

"No. I need to explain everything in person. Can you pick me up in ten minutes?"

"Yeah, where are you? Wait, don't you have school?"

Someone pulls on the photo lab's door and I hang up. I stuff my phone in my pocket, turn to the black and white photo of the cat and pick it up, pretending to analyze it in the light.

The door opens and at the sight of our school's principal, I nearly pee my pants.

Craaaaap! Is Principal Williams going to suspend me for skipping yesterday? Or maybe this is about leaving P.E. to go hang out in the library. Maybe Ms. Mallory figured out what I was doing and told!

"Hi there, Andrea," Principal Williams says with his infamous toothpaste-ad-worthy grin. "Your Drama teacher told me I'd find you here."

Ms. Karin told him I was in here? I force a smile and nod to hide my confusion. How does Ms. Karin know where I am?

"I've been looking for you because I've got to leave early today, but I wanted to ask you for help on a project before I left. Would you be able to make a sort of promotional video to post on our school's website?" he asks. "Just a quick video that introduces our school to potential students and includes maybe an interview or two with an outstanding student."

Oh. Relief eases its way through my veins and I grin. "Sure, I can do that."

"Wonderful. You've already done such great work with the school website."

"Thank you." I set the photo down and, unsure of what to do with my hands, cross my arms as I turn to face him.

"Can you have our video ready by Friday?" He pushes his glasses up on his nose.

"You mean next Friday, right?"

"No, this Friday. We'll need it by the end of this week," he says, as if making a five-minute film is tantamount to doing a math worksheet or whatever it is normal high school students do. "That's not a problem, is it? If it is, we can always ask someone else to--"

Someone else?

"No, sir," I interrupt. "It's no problem. Of course I can do it."

"I thought so. Thank you, Andrea. Well, I'll leave you to it." He smiles and then adds, "Ms. Greenich wanted me to tell you to hurry up; she said she needs you back in class."

"Yes, sir."

I watch him leave and as soon as the door closes behind him, I pull my phone out of my pocket and send Uncle Tim a text: Meet me at Coffee Etc's, I'll be waiting for you there.

I shove my phone into my pocket, not even bothering to wait for my Uncle's reply- a twenty-two year old with no money or life direction isn't going to say no to a paying gig, even if it means helping one of his nieces ditch school.

I sling my backpack onto my shoulders just as my phone chimes to let me know I've received a text. I grin, knowing it's Uncle Tim agreeing to pick me up.

"Andy?"

I jump so hard that my phone actually falls out of the pocket of my jeans. As it crashes to the floor I spin around and Ms. Karin is standing in front of me, her dark eyes narrowed.

"Sweet Caroline, you scared me to death!" I place my hand over my heart, close my eyes and will my heart to stop drumming. I open my eyes and glare at her while she stoops to pick up my phone. "I didn't even hear you come in. How are you so quiet?"

"My apologies for startling you. But I'm not the one who should be in the hot seat. Yesterday, you skipped my class and now I find you hiding out in here? What's going on with you lately?" she asks as she dusts off my phone.

I know I should be focusing on pretending to look guilty, but I'm mostly worried about the condition of my phone. Skimming it with my eyes and seeing that it appears to be intact, I breathe a sigh of relief.

"Clearly, you're more concerned about your iPhone than what I'm saying. Here," she says, offering it to me.

"Thanks," I start to accept it when a ring on Ms. Karin's finger catches my eye -an ugly cat's eye ring in a tarnished silver setting.

My thoughts come to a screeching halt and I drop my hand, inadvertently taking a step back.

Tessa Lyles diary -her ring! This is exactly what her ring looked like! The description of Tessa's ring sounded familiar because I've seen Ms. Karin wearing it!

Chills overtake me and I barely hear Ms. Karin talking to me.

"...are you alright?"

I nod, take my phone from her waiting palm and shove it into my pocket. "Yeah, um, actually, no. I'm not feeling well. I think I need to check out early. That's why I'm in here. Because I'm sick."

I meet Ms. Karin's eyes. She's looking at me strangely; frowning and pressing her lips together in a thin, straight line. It's as if she's just realized something.

Neither of us says a word as she continues to just stand here, wordlessly watching me ...

I shift on my feet. Why are we suddenly having a staring contest?

"Is that right?" Ms. Karin finally says. Her voice is low and her eyes are full of anxiety.

"Yeah." I sigh and feign weaknesses to add weight to my "sick" claim. "What about you? Are you okay? Because you suddenly seem a little, um, I don't even know. Are you okay, Ms. Karin?"

"I'm fine." She takes a step away from me, like she's afraid or something.

Weird.

"I hope you feel better, Andy," she speaks quickly and puts her hand on the doorknob as she backs away. It's like she can't get out of the here fast enough.

"Yeah, me too." I start towards her. "Hey, wait, Ms. Karin. I just have to ask, where'd you get that ring? It's so unique."

"I don't remember," she quietly replies. And before I can say another word, the photo lab door is closing.

I look at the door that she's practically slammed in my face.

What. Was. That?

I open the door a little and watch Ms. Karin head back to SLH's main building. She walks quickly, but eventually slows as she looks down at the ring on her finger.

A nagging feeling of doubt tugs at me... and the more I watch Ms. Karin stare at that ring, the stronger the feeling becomes.

Okaaaay, wait a second... I'm being insane.

I resituate my backpack on my shoulders and roll my eyes at myself.

Overactive imagination much? As if a mousey high school drama teacher has anything to do with Tessa Lyles. What am I even thinking?

Sometimes I let my imagination run way too wild.

#

#

# _An Unwanted Pest_

Why do I feel like a solid 75% of my life consists of me waiting for Andy to show?

I glance down at my phone.

2:40 PM.

I sigh and compose a second text to my chronically late little sister. Andy, where are you?? I'm in SLH's parking lot- waiting for you, HURRY.

You'd think that someone who's so fond of ditching class would be ready to go home once the school day is over--

A horrible thought pops into my head and I freeze, suddenly petrified. What if Andy can't leave because she's gone off on one of her harebrained adventures and hurt herself?

My phone vibrates as I imagine Andy, fallen from our school gymnasium's top bleacher while trying to get an aerial shot of the gym.

My stomach turning, I grab my phone. It's a text from Andy. Thank God. I hurry to read it:

Oops sorry I left early. Sick.

I stare at my phone, willing myself not to hurl it at the ground and then stomp on it. Once my hulk smash thoughts have passed, I reply: It is HIGHLY inconsiderate of you not to tell me until now. How did you get home? Are you even at home??

I await her reply for several minutes, during which I lean against my Jeep, phone in hand, and watch Coach Jacobs chase a raccoon out of the parking lot while a crowd of students laugh and cheer on the raccoon.

Only in Swamp Rose.

I feel sorry for the raccoon and even sorrier for myself because my little sister--the self-centered and eccentric genius that she is--still hasn't returned my text.

"You are so not sick," I mutter as I grab my keys and start to unlock my Jeep.

"Những gì đã được bạn suy nghĩ?" a familiar voice cries.

I turn around and Ms. Nguyen is walking beside a downcast Via, the two of them are hurrying to their SUV. Ms. Nguyen is speaking to Via in Vietnamese and it sounds like she's fussing at her. She unlocks her vehicle, still talking loudly and in a distressed tone. Via's shoulders are slumped, her eyes downcast, and she says not a word.

I don't blame Via for remaining quiet. After all, what's left to say? The whole school knows she got caught doing something beyond inappropriate with Heath in the school parking lot. There's nothing she can say to change what happened.

Via ever so slightly glances up and I can see that her eyes are red. She's been crying. A lot. She quickly slides into the front passenger seat of her mom's vehicle and slams her door shut.

My head starts to throb. Why does Via keep making such dumb decisions? I rub my pounding temples and slip into my Jeep as I check my phone to see if Andy's had the grace to reply.

She hasn't.

Of course she hasn't, because nothing's more imperative than her all-important film projects. Andy always has some secret venture she's throwing herself into.

Annoyed, I start the Jeep's engine and roll my windows down to let the interior cool.

"I know! I'd never do that in the school parking lot! Dude, they put cameras all over this place..."

I turn to the familiar voice and two rows down, Andy's new "sisters," Mia, Elizabeth, and Rose, are getting into Mia's Lexus.

Without thinking, I open my door and hop out of my Jeep and jog towards them. "Hey, Elizabeth!"

As soon as I've said her name, I recall her claiming that she couldn't do tutoring today because she "had to work." If she has to work, then why does it look like she's headed somewhere with her friends?

All three of them turn to me.

"Is that Andy's sister?" Rose asks, scanning my outfit.

"Duh," Elizabeth mutters before hesitantly addressing me. "What's up, Einstein?"

Great, a nickname. How awesome.

"Do you know where my sister is?" I ask, suddenly self-conscious. I tug at the hem of my blouse.

"Cute shirt." Mia points to my blouse. "Where'd you get it?"

"Forever 21, online," I briefly reply.

"Adorable," Mia says, her eyes now going to my carefully chosen white strappy sandals. "Andy said something about meeting her Uncle--"

"No, you're remembering wrong," Elizabeth quickly cuts in. "She's sick; she left school early."

I glare at Elizabeth. First, she lies about her job and now she lies about my sister's whereabouts?

Without meeting my eyes, she says, "Gotta go, Einstein, we'll see you later."

I say nothing as they get into Mia's SUV.

Clearly, my little sister asked my uncle to check her out early. And clearly, for some reason, she insisted that I not be made aware of this.

I clench my fists and turn away from Mia's vehicle with its talking and laughing and blaring of Katy Perry, to return to my lonely Jeep.

Why won't anyone tell me anything? What's so wrong with me that makes me too abnormal to be in on things? Even my own sister shuts me out.

Throwing the gear into reverse, I back out of my spot, tear out of SLH's parking lot, and slow down as I spot Rodney Parker walking home.

His backpack is stuffed with books and he holds three thick textbooks in his arms.

My conscience pokes at me.

My life might not be perfect, but at least I don't have to walk all the way home from school with a multitude of textbooks.

I glance at the time on my dashboard.

If I offer him a ride home, I'll be late picking Gabby up from daycare...

I return my attention to Rodney and my gaze goes to the muscles at his forearms- they strain under the weight of the books. I gulp, unable to tear my eyes away from his biceps.

Well, he's definitely not as skinny as he was last year...

... I suppose being a little late to pick Gabby up wouldn't be too terrible.

Rodney suddenly glances up. Our eyes meet and my heart stops. I turn away, immediately returning my attention to the road.

What am I thinking? I can't be seen with Rodney. Suppose we were to pass Mia, Elizabeth, and Rose on the road? They'd see me with Rodney, and Elizabeth wouldn't even bother asking me to tutor her. That would be the death of any chance at popularity.

Besides, I don't want to encourage Rodney's crush. If he knew how little my friends and my own sister think of me, he wouldn't be so infatuated with me-

I spot my Uncle's bright yellow Porsche in Coffee Etc's parking lot and my thoughts about Rodney come to a halt. I hit the Jeep's brakes and shake my head in frustration.

Seriously? Is my Uncle seriously irresponsible enough to help Andy skip school?

Fuming, I pull into Coffee Etc's, jump out of the Jeep, and practically run to the small coffee shop.

I open the small cafe's front door, scan the room, and spot the culprits sitting near a window at a two-seater table between a guy with a laptop and an older couple sipping on warm drinks. And my sister does not look sick. In fact, she's gesturing quite animatedly.

"Good afternoon! Welcome to--oh hey, Gia!" A barista named Kayleigh exclaims.

I offer her a nod. "Hey, Kayleigh. I'm not ordering; I just need to talk to my sister."

"Oh, cool," Kayleigh says and I think she's about to go on, but I start towards their table.

Andy spots me first. She freezes mid-gesture, her eyes widening.

Uncle Tim turns around, sees me and grins. "Gia!"

He starts to stand, but I raise my hand, my eyes on Andy. "What's going on? Why'd you skip school again?"

She blinks back at me, apparently speechless.

"Say something, Andrea! You skipped twice this week. You're going to fail and--"

"Gia, sweetheart, why don't we calm down?" Uncle Tim says, standing.

I look around and everyone in the small coffee shop has stopped what they're doing to watch me. They're all staring at me like I'm a lunatic.

I smooth down my blouse and take a step back. "Sorry everyone," I say with a nod.

They pretend to look away and Uncle Tim touches my arm. "You alright?"

"Yes," I hiss. "I'd simply like to know what's going on here."

"Your sister wasn't feeling well, so I checked her out and we thought she might need some tea for her stomach." Uncle Tim points to the steaming cup of tea in front of Andy, who meets my eyes but doesn't say word.

I look at the tea and realize just how much of an idiot I am.

A complete and total idiot.

This is why people don't want me around, because I do things like this. "Well, next time just let me know where you are. I, um, I need to go get Gabby from d-daycare," I stammer.

Andy arches an eyebrow and says, "Right," before turning her attention to Uncle Tim, who smiles at me and slides back into his seat.

They return to their conversation without a second glance or a "goodbye" in my direction.

I hurry out of Coffee Etc's, feeling like an unwanted pest, my face burning with shame.

#

#

# _Travel Plans_

Poor Gia... As my sister speeds out of Coffee Etc's parking lot, I catch sight of my own reflection in the window and I'm startled by how sad I look.

What's also startling is how cool of a shot this would be in a movie! I can see it in my head: the camera focuses on a vehicle peeling out before refocusing on the reflection of the sad girl who watches the leaving vehicle.

Sweet. I have to put that shot in one of my next films. Of course, who knows when I'm going to have time to write and shoot another film between working on AniMalls and trying to find Tessa Lyles.

At the thought of Tessa Lyles, my mind shifts to the matter at hand. I turn away from the window and back to Uncle Tim. "So, can I count you in?"

My Uncle doesn't reply and I'm pretty sure this is because he hasn't heard me. He's too busy making eyes at Kayleigh--Coffee Etc's perpetually enthusiastic barista.

Gross.

Kayleigh's nice and all- Gia knows her because Kayleigh graduated from SLH just last year, when Gia was a freshman- but I just don't like the idea of her and Uncle Tim. He could do better I think.

Kayleigh returns my Uncle's smile and flutters her eyelashes like some kind of southern belle in a Margaret Mitchell novel.

I clear my throat louder than necessary and Uncle Tim turns to me.

"What?" he asks, an innocent expression on his bearded face.

He really needs to shave that monster. I shake my head at him and he chuckles.

Uncle Tim and my dad are step-brothers - the pair of them a million years apart in age, looks, and personality. While my father is forty-one and a fairly silent man with dark, Italian features, Uncle Tim just turned twenty-two and he's about as pale as an albino with bright red hair and now...a huge red beard. He's also full of personality. He makes friends -especially female friends- wherever he goes, which is what makes him the perfect person to send to Peake, Alabama. If anyone can get Tessa Lyles' neighbors and former teachers and friends to open up and talk about what might have happened to her- it's Uncle Tim.

"Come on, Andy," Still chuckling, he brings his coffee to his lips. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Because I'm wondering how you know Kayleigh."

He shrugs. "I don't."

"Y'all were smiling at each other like you're old friends."

"That's what adults do to indicate attraction; they look at each other and smile," he says, wiggling his eyebrows.

"I'm fourteen, I know that." I lower my voice and lean towards him. "It's just that I've been watching you 'indicate attraction' to all five of the women in this coffee shop, including the old lady who's with her husband and I hate to say this, but you're being kind of slutty, Uncle Tim."

He laughs. "Well, it was unintentional, but I don't want to look 'slutty' so guess I need to tone it down. And what do you mean you're fourteen? I thought you were thirteen."

"People get older--that's life," I wave this off. "But I didn't skip school so we could chat about life, I need to know how you feel about The Tessa Lyles Project. Are you in?"

He takes a deep breath and opens his mouth to speak.

Please say yes, please...

A few feet away, Kayleigh starts Coffee Etc's incredibly loud blender and I lean in to hear him over the noise.

"Are you sure you have the money to get me to Alabama?" Uncle Tim asks. "And I don't want to take all your savings."

"It's not my savings. I have rich friends; they helped me raise the money." I watch him nod, his eyebrows going up. I can tell he's impressed, but that's not important. What's important is that he sees the seriousness of Tessa's situation and agrees to help.

"Uncle Tim, this girl's life is at stake." I point to the diary on the table. "You saw what she wrote. We need to find out who kidnapped her and where they took her."

"But if we just told the Police-"

I cut him off, "Once we get solid proof that Tessa's kidnappers are real, we'll turn the case over to the police. But, right now, if the police had this diary, they wouldn't do a thing about it. They'd look at it like a big joke. But this is real, Tessa needs help. And as far as I know, you and I are the only people able to help her. We have to find out who these I.T.I.S. people are and prove that they took her. Then, we'll give that information to the police."

Uncle Tim looks at me with an arched eyebrow, doubt written all over his face.

I lean towards him. "I'm committed to this with or without you, and I won't give up until I find answers. So, am I doing this on my own, or are you in?"

He exhales. "Geez, Andy. God help me, your dad's going to kill me."

"Is that a yes?"

Uncle Tim closes his eyes and runs his palm over his face. His voice is garbled by his hand as he says, "I can't believe I'm agreeing to this."

Relieved, I lean back in my chair. "You're so awesome."

"Not really." He shakes his head. "I'm either insane or just more bored than I realized."

I choose to ignore this comment.

"Hey," Uncle Tim says, "that thing with your sister just now--she looked pretty upset. What's going on with Gia?"

I think back to our argument last night. "She's already a perfectionist and a control freak, you know that."

He hesitates and then nods. "Can't say I hadn't noticed. Yeah."

"Well, lately she's been even worse. It's like she thinks she has to take over for Mom meaning she has to have complete control over everyone and everything around her. Even though Mom was never like that. Gia's just...being weird."

Uncle Tim nods, his brow furrowed. "Poor kid. I knew a girl with a similar issue. She was great, but she was always trying to mother me. I played along for a while to make her feel needed. But when I got tired of her trying to control me, I bought her a puppy. That totally worked. With those kinds of chicks, the key is to give them something to take care of."

I grin. "So, you got Grandma a puppy. Good for you. Now when are you going to move out of her house?"

"No, I'm not talking about my mother! And FYI, I moved out a few weeks ago."

"Awesome. Moving out at twenty-two--that's an early start." I roll my eyes.

"Come on now," he says. "Twenty-two's the perfect age to move out. You're just too grown up for your own good; you probably want to move out when you're what, sixteen?"

"Seventeen."

Uncle Tim laughs and takes a sip of his coffee. "You're something else, Andy."

"Yeah, everyone says that." I shrug. "Hey, I should get home and you need to pack--your flight leaves tonight. So, can you take me home now?"

"Yes, ma'am." He brushes down his shirt and runs a hand through his red hair. "But, stay here for a sec and let me talk to Kayleigh. I'll be right back."

"I knew it." I grin.

He gives me a wink before heading to Kayleigh's station behind the counter.

Sometimes Uncle Tim reminds me of Van. It's not that they look alike. What they have in common is their penchant for collecting a string of girlfriends and flirting with everything in sight. Basically, they're both ridiculous...but I like them. I wonder what that says about me?

I turn back to Coffee Etc's window and Rod Parker comes into view. He trudges home from school with a butt ton of books in his arms and a backpack that's even more overstuffed than mine. I bite down on my bottom lip, watching him. He reminds me of an abandoned puppy- a really handsome abandoned puppy. I wish Gia would give him a chance, he's such a sweet guy and underneath those glasses he's rocking perfect bone structure and big, expressive eyes...

A lightning bolt of an idea strikes me in the brain and I sit up straighter.

Maybe Uncle Tim was on the right track when he said Gia needs someone to "mother," and maybe I'm just the person to help Gia get what she needs.

#

#

# _Connecticut_

My mother's voice cuts into my thoughts. "Where is your respect?" she yells.

I whirl around and her hand is flying at me. Before I can blink, her palm connects with my right cheek, delivering a sting that's a perfect match for my embarrassment. Tears fill my eyes and I touch the spot she's slapped. It's warm.

This has been the worst day of my life and Mom slapping me is the cherry on top.

She takes a step back and covers her left hand with her right, like she's barely restraining herself from hitting me again.

"I'd reconsidered." Her voice shakes and she clears her throat. "I'd reconsidered what I'd said about sending you away, but not anymore. This was the last straw."

I lower myself to sit on the edge of my bed. "You can't send me anywhere."

Mom takes a deep breath and I glance at her. She smooths down the front of her light blue pants suit and the gesture makes me think of Gia. Gia probably knows what happened...the whole school knows. I hadn't really thought about the fact that Principal Williams set up a bunch of security cameras in the school parking lot. So, I guess I just accidently made my second sex tape.

My throat tightens and my eyes fill. I'm so stupid...how could I have been so stupid?

"Via." Mom shakes her head, and lowers her voice. "My sister agreed to take you in. So, early tomorrow morning, you'll leave for Connecticut. I've already booked your flight."

"What? No!" Standing, I stare at Mom in horror. "Connecticut? That's crazy! I can't move to Connecticut; and since when do you have a sister? You don't have a sister!"

"Yes I do. And you're going to meet her." She turns away from me and heads to the door. "Pack."

Frustration fluttering through me, I run after her. "Mom! I can't just leave; my whole life is here!"

She whirls around and I wince, expecting her to hit me again. But Mom's hands remain at her side and she looks me in the eye, hers growing watery and red. "You mean Heath," she says between gritted teeth. "He's here. Via, that boy is not your whole life. He's just a boy."

"That's what you don't understand--he's not just a boy. I love him." A trail of snot creeps out of one of my nostrils and I wipe it away. "And it's more than Heath; I have school and my friends."

"Do you, Via?" Mom hisses, her eyes narrowing as she moves towards me. "Now that you've bedded half of the boys in this town, how many friends do you have? Latonya's mother instructed her to stay away from you. And when was the last time Gia came over? There's a reason for that! Do you really think anyone wants to be--" Mom stops short. She pinches the bridge of her nose between her index finger and thumb and lowers her voice to say, "Please just pack your things."

I follow her into the hallway and shout the only thing I can think of. "What about Dad? Did he say he wants me to move?"

Mom turns back to me and screams, "Your father doesn't have a say! Pack!"

With this, she starts down the stairs.

My head pounding, I return to my room and slam the door shut.

The "Via's Crib" sign on my door shakes, threatening to fall off. I ignore it, wipe my nose, and make my way to my bed.

I sit down and stare at the bulletin board above my desk. It's basically a little collage of the past two year's highlights. It has a picture of me, Latonya, and Gia when they came over for one of our Dr. Who Marathon Sleepovers. There's another picture of me with my cousin Tyra, and of course, there are tons of pictures of me and Heath.

My gaze goes to the one of us at last year's prom. That was our first official date.

Even though we'd already fooled around a couple of times, Heath was still really nervous. When he came to pick me up, he looked like he was going to pass out. And when I introduced him to my mom, he stammered so much that even she felt bad for him. That just made me like him more. But the kicker was what happened after the prom.

Leaving my bed, I move to the bulletin board and grab the black and white photo in its lower right hand corner. It's a selfie Heath took of the two of us while we were lying in the grass.

Once prom was over, we were supposed to go to some hotel, but after taking a lazy stroll around the football field, we ended up just sitting there in the grass, staring at the stars and talking until like two in the morning. I'll never forget what happened a few minutes before I checked my phone and saw that Mom had called eighty billion times (I even had one missed call from Dad)...

Heath's right shoulder touched mine as he lay beside me.

He shifted around like he was trying to get comfortable as he asked, "What do you want to do when you graduate?"

I paused, staring at the constellation "Carina." Van had once pointed it out to me. He said it's supposed to look like a ship, but personally, I think it looks more like a lizard.

Staring at the celestial lizard, I said, "I don't know. I guess go to LSU, and then maybe work at my dad's office. You?"

"My dad wants me to play for LSU, but I don't know. I don't really like football."

This was the first I'd heard of him not liking football, and he'd later tell me that I was the first person he'd admitted this to.

I turned to him and laughed. "You must be drunk."

"Nah, I only had two beers; that makes me thirsty, not drunk," he said, his voice low. "You know what we should do after we graduate?"

"What?" I asked, running my palm over the football field's soft grass.

"My grandparents have land in Pierre Part, on a bayou. We should move there, and I'll give people swamp tours on the weekends."

I laughed. "Swamp tours? Have you ever even been in a swamp?"

Heath rolled onto his side and faced me. We locked eyes as he said, "Half my family's Cajun, of course I've been in a swamp. I'm one with the freaking swamp."

"Oh, I see." I grinned and, twining one of my ankles between his, said, "So, what would I do while you take people on swamp tours?"

Heath's blue eyes shone, gleaming under the moonlight as they studied my face and then lingered on my lips. "You'd go to college," he said, "and come home to me every night."

We stared at each other and an intense warmth consumed my heart. I wasn't just horny, I was...I don't know, it was almost like a holy feeling swept over me, giving me peace and hope. For the first time in a while, I felt like everything was going to be okay.

I'm pretty sure that "holy feeling" was me, Via Nguyen, falling in love with Heath Remington.

Grinning, he reached out and touched my chin. "So, what do you think?"

I returned his smile and said, "I think I'd like that."

Now, I stare at the black and white photo, my eyes watering.

Every time I'm with Heath, I remember that moment and sometimes--usually when we're just talking and he's being goofy or whatever--I get that feeling again.

And Mom expects me to pack up and leave him just because she said so? She's crazy if she thinks I'm going to do that. As much as I hate being South Louisiana High's branded skank, I can't leave this place. It's all I know and it's where Heath is.

A sharp knock on my bedroom door startles me.

"Via, are you packing?" Mom shouts from the other side of the door.

"Absolutely!" I yell.

I'll pack, but there's no way I'm leaving.

#

#

# _Responsible Gia_

"So when you see something that looks like a falling star, what are you really seeing?" I ask as I trace the outline of one of the tiny blue balloons on Gabby's sheets.

She smiles, displaying her missing front tooth. She lost it last week and I hope the new one takes a while to grow in because she looks adorable like this.

"A meteow!" she exclaims.

"Good girl. How about you go to sleep now?" I lean over and plant a kiss on one of her chubby cheeks. She smells like baby powder and rose petals. As I'm breathing in my little sister's scent, she sits up and her forehead plows into my nose. Cringing, I bring my hand to my nose.

"Sowee," she says, her eyes wide.

"It's fine, Gabs."

She points to my nose. "Huwt?"

"Nope." I wiggle my nose, which actually does kind of hurt, and grin. "I'm fine. See?"

Visibly relieved, Gabby reaches up and touches the tip of my nose. With this, she yawns. But I have a feeling the yawn doesn't mean she'll go to sleep anytime soon. I've been trying to put her down for the past twenty minutes.

Let's try this one more time...

"Alright, kiddo, back in bed. Get under those sheets." I point and she obediently slips under them.

"But I not seepy," she informs me, punctuating her response with another yawn.

"Noted." I rack my mind for some way to get her to sleep. "Why don't you tell me what you want to dream about?"

Gabby ponders this, her blue eyes sparkling as she chooses her dreams. I reach out and twirl a strand of her curly brown locks. I wonder what her hair would look like on me.

Gabby and Andy are fortunate enough to have Dad's curly hair while me and my other younger sister, Lula, inherited Mom's straight hair. On the other hand, Andy and I have Mom's blond locks while Lula and Gabby inherited Dad's brown hair. We Morettis are a gumbo of genetics.

"Meteows and ponies and Whole Foods!" Gabby exclaims, throwing her fists in the air and barely missing my chin.

I grin. To Gabby, Whole Foods is basically Disneyland.

I have a theory about her obsession with Whole Foods and it doesn't make much sense...but, I think Gabby's Whole Foods fixation has something to do with the fact that Mom practically lived at Whole Foods while she was pregnant with her. All of Mom's cravings centered on that place. Back then, we'd have to drive to Baton Rouge at least twice a week to satiate Mom's hankerings for Whole Foods gelato and specialty gluten-free desserts.

"That's going to be a great dream."

"What you dweam?" Gabby asks, yawning yet again. This time, it's contagious and I yawn as I seriously consider my baby sister's question.

What do I want to dream about?

"You," I reply, which makes her smile, "and Lula and Andy and Daddy and..."

"Mommy?" Gabby asks, her eyes bright.

"And Mommy too." I nod. Gabby doesn't remember Mom because she was born exactly sixteen minutes before Mom's death, but she likes to hear us talk about her.

"Daddy!" Gabby's eyes widen and she sits up.

I turn around and Dad moves away from the doorframe he's, apparently, been leaning on. "Hey," I say. "I didn't hear you come in."

He smiles. "Yep, I'm here."

His blue eyes, a tired version of Gabby's, are red and sunken in. He's a driver for UPS during the day and three- sometimes four -nights a week he plays piano at a sleepy jazz club in New Orleans. He never complains about being tired, but he doesn't have to: it's obvious that he's in a perpetual state of exhaustion.

He gently claps a hand on my shoulder and leans over to plant a kiss on Gabby's forehead. When he starts to back away my baby sister throws her arms around his neck and laughingly pulls him towards her. "Ahh," Dad cries in feigned anguish. "She's got me!"

With this encouragement, Gabby starts to growl and bark like a dog.

Dad laughs and I steal a peek at my other sister, Lula. She's huddled under her sheets and blankets, somehow managing to sleep through the noise.

"Lula's trying to sleep," I remind my dad and baby sister.

"It's only six," Dad says, skeptical.

I nod. "Her school talent show is tomorrow and she said she wants to 'rest her voice.'"

His eyebrows go up as his lips form a half smile and he repeats, "Rest her voice?"

I roll my eyes. "I know. But, that's what she said. You know how Lula is."

"And how is Lula?"

Uh oh.

I turn around and my twelve-year-old sister emerges from her sheets. Oh...wow. At the sight of her I bite down on my bottom lip to keep from laughing: Lula's hair is in large rollers and she wears a silky black night mask along with earplugs, both of which, apparently, aren't doing their jobs.

"How is Lula?" she repeats, yanking off her night mask and tossing it on top of her pink bedspread. "Is she a laughingstock because she cares about the condition of her voice?"

"No, honey," Dad says, releasing Gabby. He makes his way to Lula, who rips her earplugs out as he sits down beside her. Her twin mattress groans under his weight and he quietly says, "I'm an artist too; I get it."

"Then don't make fun of me," she says, her bottom lip jutting out.

My heart sinks. "We weren't making fun of you. I simply repeated what you'd--"

"Yes you were, Gia! You insult me constantly," Lula argues, a confrontational edge returning to her voice as she narrows her eyes. "And I heard you call me a drama queen yesterday. I know what that means; I'm not an idiot!"

Heat fills my cheeks. Lula's right. I did call her a "bathroom-hogging drama queen" when I complained to Andy that Lula had been in the bathroom--showering and singing at the top of her lungs--for over a half an hour.

"Gia didn't mean it," Dad says.

Lula looks up at him and the hurt in her eyes twists itself into my conscience, piercing me until I have to look away.

Well, I guess this means I have to add Lula to the list of people who are currently angry with me.

"Gia's proud of you, honey--we all are." Dad gives Lula a hug and I dare to glance at them. Her arms are stiff at her sides as he says, "And your mom would be too."

"Mommy," Gabby whispers.

I turn to my baby sister. Her head is propped up on her left hand while she watches them with blatant curiosity. She glances at me and asks, "Lula sad?"

"Yes," I quietly say. "But she'll be all right. Night, Gabs." I lean over and kiss her on her forehead.

I stand and make my way to Dad and Lula. Dad catches my eye and winks. He's pretending like we're a team, like the two of us know what we're doing. If only...The truth is that we're clueless: I try too hard and Dad just ends up fixing the messes I make.

"Lula, I'm really sorry," I say. She doesn't reply, so I add, "And I bet you're going to be amazing at the talent show."

She gives me a stiff nod before returning her attention to Dad. "Daddy, the show's going to start at eleven if you want to come. I understand if you have to work, but..."

They don't need me in here anymore. I head to the door and glance at Gabby. Her eyes have already closed; she's asleep. I guess if I'd just left her alone, she would've gone right to sleep on her own.

I make my way to the kitchen where I grab a bottle of water from the pantry. I take a sip, lean against the door, and engage a box of Corn Flakes in a one-sided staring contest.

How is it that I always end up upsetting the people I'm trying to help?

"Hey, Gia."

Dad's voice startles me and I jump.

"Good Lord, just sneak up on me, why don't you?"

"Didn't mean to. Sorry." I look at my dad. His hair, which is messy and in dire need of a cut, and his haggard eyes remind me that I'm talking to my father--the extremely tired man who works sixty-plus hours a week to take care of me and my sisters.

"Sorry, I don't mean to snap at you," I say and grab another bottle of water from the pantry. I toss it his way. "Have some water, it's good for you."

"Thanks." He catches it and points to my shirt, "So, you're still in the math club. That's good."

I glance down at the SLH Math Club t-shirt I threw on after showering. "Not anymore. The shirt's from last year."

"Why'd you quit? I thought you loved it."

I cringe at the word "quit" and run my thumb along the ridges of my bottle. "I liked it, but--"

"Hang on, let's sit." Dad gestures to the table behind him and I slide into one of the wooden chairs I helped him pick out last year. Our table set used to be an actual matching set until Andy accidently broke two of the chairs during one of her let's-see-how-much-of-our-house-I-can-destroy-while-I-make-a-short-film adventures. So, two of the wooden chairs at our breakfast table are cheapos from Super Wal-Mart instead of nice, matching chairs from Olinde's Furniture Store.

Dad sits across from me in one of the twin Wal-Mart chairs. "Go on. You liked it but what?"

"But it took too much time. Math club meets at least twice a week, meaning I wouldn't be able to pick Gabby up after school on those days."

"Do you miss it?" He takes a sip of water and watches me carefully.

"Yeah, I guess. And if I went to all of the math battles that would look good on a college application. But..." I pause and think back to last Sunday, when Andy asked me to help her film an episode of AniMalls. I felt honored. There was a time when I was Andy's right-hand woman when it came to her film projects, but not anymore.

"But what?"

"But the math battles are on Sundays and if I rejoined the club that means I wouldn't be on hand for Andy, if she needed me. Not to mention that Lula and Gabby might need me." I pause as my thoughts shift to Via. Considering what she got caught doing yesterday she might even be depressed enough to give me a call. "And Via too..." I glance at Dad, immediately wishing I hadn't mentioned her.

Swamp Rose is a very small town and literally everyone is privy to the local high school drama. Unfortunately, I think even my Dad's heard some of the rumors about Via because he's made it clear that he doesn't like the idea of me associating with her on a consistent basis.

But now, Dad merely runs his fingers along the bottle, absentmindedly feeling for its ridges as he nods and looks up, meeting my eyes. "You love to help people, just like your mom. You're a lot like her when it comes to that." He smiles and blinks a little too quickly as he twists off the water bottle's top and takes another sip.

My throat's getting tight, so I clear it and say, "You help people too. Maybe I get it from both of you."

"Nah." He brings his water back down to the table. "I play the piano and I hang out with my daughters. My family and my music--that's my life. But you're different, Gia. I see you go out of your way to help people. That's just who you are. You're like a little superwoman and it makes me proud of you."

"Thanks. I'm glad you see it that way, because..." I hesitate.

"What?"

"Lately it seems like whenever I try to help people, I get pushed away. I don't think anyone even notices that I'm trying to help-" While I'm speaking the kitchen light above us goes out.

"Great," I murmur. Dad's chair scrapes the floor while he stands and I say, "That's okay, I'll get a new bulb."

"Good, because I just realized I have no idea where the bulbs are."

I smile. "I figured. That's why I offered." I hurry to the pantry and retrieve the bulbs from the bottom shelf. "They're in here, next to the water."

"That's a weird place for them. Didn't your mom used to keep them somewhere else?"

"Yeah." Carefully removing a bulb from the box, I head back to the table. "She kept them in the laundry room. But when a light dies, I'm already annoyed enough. While I'm getting a new bulb, I don't also want to have to see how much laundry I still need to do."

He laughs, but even in the dim lighting, I can see that he's looking at me thoughtfully as he says, "I'll put it in."

"No, you're tired. I've got it, Dad."

I glance up at the dead bulb and reach for the chair I've been sitting in.

"Hey, don't stand on that one, use this chair," Dad says as he drags one of the sturdier Olinde's Furniture chairs my way.

"It's fine; I'll just use this one." Ignoring him, I step up onto the Walmart chair.

"Gia!" Dad shouts.

Startled, I look at him. He holds the prettier chair in front of him and in a calmer tone says, "Use this one; it's stronger."

I roll my eyes. "Okay, but this one's fine. It's not like I haven't stood on it before."

He extends a hand and helps me down, "And it's also not like it's made for sixteen-year-olds to stand on."

"Are you saying I'm fat?" I hop onto the supposedly sturdier wooden chair.

"No, course not. But that flimsy chair isn't made for what you wanted it to do. Just like you're not made to..." He sighs.

I stop unscrewing the old bulb and look down at him. "Just like I'm not made to what?"

"What I'm trying to say is, I think you should stop taking on so much responsibility," he says. "In our family, I'm the one who's supposed to do the fixing--you're the kid. That's the only thing you should worry about because that's all you can handle--being a kid."

"I need to be a kid because that's all I can handle?" I repeat. With this, I step off of the chair and set the new bulb down on the table.

"Gia, hey." Dad's face falls, but I walk past him.

"I'm not sure I can handle changing this light bulb, seeing as I'm just a kid. So I'll let you do that," I say, turning into the hallway.

"Gia, wait." He follows me. "You know I really am proud of you; I meant that."

I turn around. "It's fine, Dad."

"No, it's not fine." Dad takes both of my hands in his and grasps them tightly. "Listen to me- you've been surprising me and making me proud from the moment you were born. I love you so much."

My throat tightens and I focus all of my energy on not crying.

"That's why I'm asking you to learn your limits," Dad continues. "Because if you try to fix everything, you're going to break. And I can't let the happen to you. You understand?"

I nod.

"Come here." He hugs me and as I lean on his shoulder, I let the unwanted tears fill my eyes.

I don't want to break either.

I PUSH OPEN the door to mine and Andy's room and immediately hear her laughing.

I hope she's watching New Girl or even one of those Gilmore Girls reruns because I could really use a laugh. I close the door behind me and try to see what she's watching. She's leaned back in her computer chair, all three of her monitors set up in front of her. On one screen, I can see that she's been editing the latest AniMalls episode, but the other two monitors are too hard to see.

I kick off my flip flops and yawn as Andy laughs again. "No, Van," Andy says. "I'm not joking, she actually said, 'I thought the Pythagorean Theorem was an island off the coast of Africa'."

I freeze. Van? As in Van Nguyen--Via's brother? That cannot be who Andy's talking to...

I move closer to Andy's work station and get a glimpse of her computer screen- there, in all of his handsomeness is Van Nguyen!

My breath, apparently forgetting what it's supposed to do, decides to hang out in the back of my throat and toy with the idea of suffocating me. I accidently make a sort of gasping, "eep," sound and Andy turns to me. Her face falls. But the glower is so brief, I wonder if I've imagined it. Before I can catch my breath, Andy's grinning and waving me over. "Gia, come say hey to Van."

I shake my head no and Andy's grin turns mischievous. "What's wrong?"

"Gia's there?" Van shouts.

A wave of panic sweeps over me. I can't let Van Nguyen see me wearing some stupid math club t-shirt while my hair is an unwashed and tangled mess!

Andy readjusts her glasses and laughs. "I think my sister doesn't want you to see her dressed like an actual human. She's afraid you might think she's normal if you see her in shorts and a t-shirt."

"What?" Van laughs while I slowly back away. "What does that even mean? Come on, Gia. Can I get a hello? I haven't seen you in months."

Oh, God.

I lock eyes with my sister, trace a line across my neck, and whisper, "You're dead."

She waves me off and returns her attention to her camera. "She's coming."

I smooth down my shirt and Andy says, "Gia, by the blessed hammer of Thor, stop doing that--you're never wrinkled!"

Van chuckles. "Did you really say, 'by the blessed hammer of Thor'? Who says that?"

I slink into view. "It's a nerd thing; they all say it."

Andy swats at me. "Says the girl wearing the math club t-shirt."

"Good point," I admit and Van laughs. I plop down on Andy's bed and watch Van grin at us from the large computer screen.

He's even hotter than he was six months ago. His jet black hair is messy and he has a tan. Normally, he's much fairer than Via, but with his tan, they're about the same color now. I hope he's not still dating that chick from--

"Gia!"

I jump as Van and Andy shout my name in unison.

Andy laughs and gives me a light shove. "Earth to Gia!"

"Sorry." My face burns and my underarms itch, the way they sometimes do when I'm embarrassed.

Van grins. "No worries; I get it. You were thinking about me."

My underarms are now on fire. I want to scratch them, but I can't. I don't want Van to think I have fleas or something.

Andy rolls her eyes. "Do you want me to leave the room so you two can flirt?"

"No one's flirting," I hiss.

"Yeah," Van says and I turn to the screen, watching him look at me. "Flirting would be me telling Gia she's the only girl who can make a math club t-shirt look sexy. And by the way, Gia? You're the only girl who can make a math club t-shirt sexy."

I nearly pee my pants.

Andy grabs a pen from her desk and hurls it at her camera. "Dude, you're in college and Gia's in high school! Don't be disgusting."

He grins. "No reason to be jealous, Andy. You know you'll always be my number one."

My heart--as dumb as this sounds because I know the whole thing is just a joke--actually sinks and I glare at my sister.

She doesn't even notice. She's too busy throwing more pens at the camera. "I don't want to be your number anything, crackhead! I just want you to write more music for AniMalls."

He grins. "And I want you to admit you're jealous."

Listening to the two of them spar is like watching a tennis match, and my sister holds her own. Andy doesn't second guess herself or get nervous, she's just...Andy.

I lace my fingers together, watching her gesture wildly as she tells Van off.

"So, I'm getting my music tomorrow, right?" She crosses her arms and stares him down.

I tap the tips of my thumbs against each other and silently wish I were more like Andy.

Van smirks. "Sure. If the next time I visit, I get a kiss from Gia."

I gasp.

Van winks at me and my brain turns to mush while heat floods my underarms, neck, and face.

"Being that I'm not my sister's pimp," Andy says, "I'm going to pretend you didn't just say that. Just get me the music so I can post my next episode already."

"I will, I will," Van says, still grinning as he lifts his hands in surrender. "But you can't blame me for trying; it was a worth a shot."

She glares at him. "Just finish it."

"I said I will." He chuckles.

"Good," Andy replies.

"Yeah, that music...good," I stammer.

They both turn to me and I clear my throat. Why am I even speaking?

"Well, this was pleasant. We'll talk later, Van," Andy says, heading to her keyboard.

"Later, Andy. Gia." He winks, my heart stops, and Andy ends the call. She turns to me and shakes her head.

"I know," I mutter. "I'm pathetic."

"Yeah, you are. But it's not your fault; he has that effect on girls." Andy plops down in her chair and slides over to me. "Besides, I actually like 'pathetic Gia.'"

I narrow my eyes at her. "So, you enjoy my humiliation. Thanks for that."

She props her feet up on her bed. "It's not humiliation and it's not even pathetic, really. It's human. So, you think Van's hot and he makes you nervous? So what?"

As she shrugs, I snort. "So I look like an idiot, that's what."

"Maybe a little, yeah. But, Gia, you know how people were so crazy about Jennifer Lawrence when she first became famous?"

I give Andy a look. Is she trying to change the subject?

"Well," she pushes her glasses up on her nose and continues, "They liked her because she wasn't afraid to look like an idiot. She was just, you know..."

I nod, recalling what I noticed earlier, about my own sister. "She was just herself," I quietly say.

"Exactly!" Andy juts her index finger into the air, underscoring her words. "She didn't try to be perfect. Which is a good thing because 'perfect' is boring. When you're not trying to be perfect and you're just yourself, you're so much more fun. Oh...my...God I smell horrible! I need to take a shower right now."

I frown at my sister as she sniffs her underarms. "You're so weird."

"Concern for hygiene isn't weird," Andy says. "It's a responsibility."

As she starts for her towel, I turn around to face her. "Hey, Andy, do you like Van?"

She pauses for a half a second before heading to our closet. "I don't know; he's okay. But he likes you, so it's not like it would matter anyway."

That stupid heat makes its way to my underarms again, but this time I scratch them because I know Andy won't think I'm flea-ridden. "He doesn't really like me; he's just messing around."

"I know, but he never even messes around with me because he doesn't have any semblance of a crush on me. He has a crush on--" she says, turning around and pointing at me, "--you."

I smile. "You think so? Like, seriously?"

"Yeah, like seriously. Now I need to go showerrrr!" Andy sings, and towel in hand, leaves our room. She shuts the door behind her and in seconds, I hear the water running.

I'm glad she didn't bring up my meltdown at Coffee Etc's.

I can't believe I yelled at her in front of all those people...what would Van have thought if he'd been there? He'd probably join the We-Hate-Gia-Club with Via, Andy and Lula. My thoughts drifting to Via, I run a hand through my hair.

She hasn't even called me.

Used to be, when something awful happened, I'd be the first person she'd call.

Now, I bet she's on the phone with Heath, even though he's the reason she got in trouble in the first place. She so needs to break up with that loser, he's nothing but trouble.

But, here I go again- worrying about something that's none of my business. That's why she's mad at me in the first place.

I sigh, leave the bed, and scoot into Andy's rolling desk chair. Beside her keyboard, she has a framed picture of her and Mom. They look so much alike it's crazy.

I stretch my feet out under her desk and my right foot hits her book bag. I glance down at the unzipped bag and the stolen diary peeks out at me.

I wonder what's in it that made her cry. My curiosity gets the better of me and I reach for the brown book. As I grab it, a white and pink piece of stationery that's folded and labeled, "For: Rodney Parker" slips out of Andy's bag. It falls onto the carpet.

The bathroom shower is still running, so Andy won't be back for a while.

I return the diary to Andy's backpack and bring the note to my lap, where I carefully unfold it.

Dear Rodney,

I like you. I know that's kind of blunt but I just think you should know that up front. So, do you want to hang out at lunch and talk? If you're up for that, can we meet on the front lawn and hang out there? If you're interested, I'll see you there : )

I refold the note and slip it back into her bag, but my movements are robotic because what the heck?

Andy's crushing on Rodney?

Well...he is handsome underneath all of his fashion issues and Andy does hang out with him a good bit. I guess I shouldn't be surprised that she's developed feelings for him.

I put the note back and glance at my book bag on the other side of our room. I have a physics quiz tomorrow; I should study for it.

I leave Andy's workspace, grab my physics book and open it to chapter thirty-two. But as soon as I start the first sentence about internal resistance, I realize why I feel resistant as opposed to excitement about my little sister's first real crush: I wish I hadn't snuck in her bag and read about it in a note.

I wish she'd just told me.

#

#  

#

#

# _Crystal Lovett_

There is, literally, nothing worse than riding in the car for a solid hour and a half with someone who refuses to speak to you or even turn on the radio. By the time my mom and I pull into the Louis Armstrong International Airport parking garage, I'm so relieved I could do a happy dance.

Mom turns the car off, gets out without a word and heads to the trunk.

Alrighty then.

I grab my purse, unstrap my seat belt, and do the same.

Every time I've been in NOLA airport's parking garage, it's been horrifically loud and reminded me of why I will never move to a loud city like New Orleans.

This time, it's no different.

Scowling at the sounds of screeching tires and revving cars, I walk around to the trunk where Mom struggles with my Godzilla-sized suitcase. Her face turns red and a few strands of her jet black hair slink out of her neat little French twist.

Sighing, I grab the other side of the suitcase and she looks at me in surprise. Did she really think I wouldn't help her?

Without a word, we lug it out of the trunk together, nearly falling backwards in the process.

Regaining my balance, I bend over to grab the fallen suitcase and a wolf whistle pierces the air.

In a parking garage? Really? I can't go freakin anywhere.

I turn around to scan the garage and, deciding that it wasn't the elderly couple with the matching outfits or the frazzled parents with three little kids in tow, I set my gaze on four baseball cap wearing guys--probably in their twenties--all of them grinning at me.

"Via." Mom's sharp tone turns my head and as I meet her eyes, heat rushes to my cheeks. "Let's go."

I pick up my suitcase, resituate it on its wheels, and follow Mom to the airport.

INSIDE, THE LIGHTS are too bright, and it's almost as loud as the parking garage. People are literally, like, everywhere and they're walking hella fast, as if they're all on the verge of missing their flights.

My mouth goes dry from nerves and I remind myself that I won't be here for long.

A white haired man who's dressed like a pilot, so...I guess he is a pilot, passes us, and I watch him wave to a cute flight attendant who he's obviously slept with. Well, maybe not...I don't know--it's just that in movies pilots are always sleeping with cute flight attendants.

Mom accidently brushes my arm and I steal a peek at her. She's totally focused on looking straight ahead and ignoring me. Fine, whatever.

"Do you even love me?" I hear myself ask.

Why did I ask her that? Am I trying to get my feelings hurt?

"I wouldn't do this," she quietly replies, "if I didn't."

Startled, I turn to look at her and she doesn't meet my gaze. Instead, she keeps her eyes straight ahead and her lips pinched together, like she's got a bitter taste in her mouth.

She stops walking and I nearly trip over my heels as I come to stop.

"What's wrong?" I ask, hoping she's had a change of heart.

Without answering me, she opens her purse and retrieves her ringing phone. Oh.

My dad's name and picture light up her phone's screen. Exhaling, Mom slides it back into her purse and glances at me. "Let's go," she says as she starts walking again, "we're almost there."

Shaking my head, I find myself slamming my heels against the linoleum as we head to the TSA checkpoint. I don't care if I'm stomping--I should stomp. Who wouldn't stomp when their own mother decides they're not good enough and throws them on the first flight to Connecticut?

"Here we are," Mom says, coming to a halt.

I turn to glare at her as she repositions her purse on her shoulder and blinks quickly because...oh, her eyes are watering.

My heart softens. I gulp and nervously fumble with the zipper on my purse. I want to hug her, but I don't know if I should. Mom's not into hugs.

"Your Aunt Cara will give you money when you get there. Call me as soon as you land," she says without looking at me. She starts to say something else and then pauses. Her eyes finally make their way to mine. As we look each other, Mom sighs and shakes her head. "Via, this is for your own good. One day you'll understand."

I'm not sure what to feel, think, or...do with my hands. So, I push my hair out of my face and nod. "Okay."

We look at each other, Mom tense and trying not to cry. Me? I just feel lost.

She gestures to the nearby TSA Officers who are checking passengers and their carry-on luggage. "Well, go on. I'll wait and here until you're through security and at your gate. It's gate A2, we can see it from here."

"I know which gate it is, Mom," I mumble. With this, I turn away from her and take my place in line.

Fortunately, the line isn't too long and I get through quickly enough. I glance over my shoulder to see if Mom's really still there. I bet she isn't.

To my surprise, she stares right back at me, no smile, no frown, and her hands clasped in front of her. She looks like a statue. I lift a hesitant hand and wave. The statue offers a slight nod. Honestly, it's a miracle that I'm getting so much as a nod.

I head to gate A2 and slide into the nearest seat, right next to a fat guy who's munching on what smells like a tuna sandwich. Gross.

Situating my suitcase beside me, I reach into my purse and retrieve my compact mirror. Opening it, I aim the mirror just over my shoulder and watch Mom walk away, fading into the crowd.

Thank God she doesn't love me enough to stay and watch the plane take off. Stuffing the compact back into my purse, I pull out my phone and compose a text: I'll be outside in 10 minutes.

I put my phone back in my purse, tuck my hair behind my ears, and attempt to calm my nerves. I'm going to get in a crap-ton of trouble for this, but whatever.

TEN MINUTES TOOK forever. But as soon as it was time, I bolted from my seat at gate A2 and now as I walk through the automatic glass doors, two girls who look about my age and an older woman -maybe their grandmother- pass me on their way into the airport. All three of them look at my skirt, their eyebrows raised.

Ugh.

They must be from Swamp Rose or some other nearby hick town. While I'm not at all a huge fan of living in huge cities like New Orleans, I have to admit that at least city people don't gawk at your clothes like the concept of fashion is completely foreign to them.

I make my way to the curb just outside of Southwest Airlines terminal--that's where she'll be expecting me.

Tugging at my, apparently stare-worthy navy mini, I take a deep breath and wait. What if she doesn't come? Asking her to pick me up at four in the morning is kind of a lot.

As I'm beginning to silently freak out, a familiar white SUV pulls up to the curb. I think it's her, but I'm not sure...my gaze goes to the SUV's personalized license plate.

Lovett.

Yeah, this is Crystal's SUV.

The huge vehicle backs up a few feet and I'm glad I didn't decide to hop off the curb because I probably would have been run over.

As soon as the massive vehicle is in park, Dad's nearly jailbait girlfriend hops out of the driver's side. She's got a big fat -and probably fake- grin on her face as she asks, "Need help with your bag?"

My eyes go to her flared navy mini and I realize we're wearing the exact same skirt. The only difference is that she's paired hers with a super-tight white tee and white ballet flats, while I've opted on a light blue blouse and strappy blue heels--this is too weird.

Crystal's smile falters and her eyes widen as she rakes a hand through her hair. "Um...uh..."

Coming out of my stupor, I find my voice and say, "Sorry, I just noticed we're wearing the same skirt." I point to her skirt and she looks down.

"Oh my God!" She laughs. "We totally are!"

Relaxing, she starts towards me and helps me get Godzilla-the-suitcase into the trunk of her even-bigger-than-Godzilla SUV. It's a really nice vehicle; I wonder if my dad bought it for her.

Crystal closes the trunk, dusts off her skirt and turns to me, smiling. "Ready to get out of here?"

I nod. "Yeah."

Why did she agree to do this for me? It's not like I've been all that nice to her. If I was her, I would've told me no. Not to mention that Dad is probably going to be super pissed with her.

I make my way around to the passenger's side and climb inside, which is pretty much like climbing the rock wall at my mom's gym--it's ridiculous.

Setting my purse on the floor, I pull on my seat belt and Crystal turns to me. "I usually listen to 102.5, but if you want the radio on something else, just change it."

"Okay," I agree, watching her turn the volume up as a One Direction song comes on.

She hums along with the music, singing a few words here and there.

Really? One Direction? I know I'm staring at her, but I can't help it because, how is my dad dating someone who knows the words to a One Direction song?

I need to stop staring at Crystal before she thinks I'm going to murder her. So, taking a deep breath, I return my attention to the road ahead.

"If you want to come with me and your dad to Hawaii next month, the offer still stands," Crystal says without looking at me. "I mean, if you want to. No pressure. I know maybe it'd be awkward because of...things." She pushes her blond hair away from her face, even though it's not really in her face.

Crystal brakes as we approach a red light and slowly turns to face me.

Realizing that I haven't said anything in response to her invitation, I open my mouth and blurt, "Why are you helping me?" Wincing at my unintentionally harsh tone, I say, "Not to sound ungrateful. I'm glad you're helping me, but I just don't understand why."

I bring my hand to my hair to toss it over my shoulders and stop midway as I realize Crystal and I are doing the exact same thing.

This is too freaky.

Not noticing, she sighs and flips her hair over her shoulders. "Via, I know this is going to sound lame, but you kind of remind me of myself when I was your age. Of course, you're much smarter and prettier but, helping you is like...it makes me feel like I'm helping myself, which is, I guess, somewhat selfish."

She smiles and I do too.

I'm not sure what to say, so I decide to go with, "Well, thanks."

Crystal nods and the person behind us sits on their horn. Jumping, she curses under her breath and guns it through the now-green light.

I turn to the road ahead and we pass a sign that lets us know we're 90 miles from Swamp Rose. That's an hour and a half until I'm home. Thinking of Gia, I start to reach for my phone and then stop.

I can't talk to Gia about any of this--it's just too embarrassing.

#

#

# _Distracting Gia & Finding Via_

Today is going to be a good day.

I grin at myself in the bathroom mirror.

My Distract Gia Project is on the precipice of unfolding while Uncle Tim is in Alabama making headway on The Tessa Lyles Project. So, am I pretty much rocking the crap out of the many projects comprising my life? Why, yes, I am.

"Andy," Gia shouts from the other side of the bathroom door. "Come on, we've got to get to school!"

"Coming," I reply, my voice echoing against the walls.

I grab my phone from the counter and text Rod: Hey congratulations on the free make over! Who knew you'd be the lucky 25th commenter on last week's vlog post?!

I start towards the door when my phone vibrates.

Another thing I love about Rod is that, unlike most guys, he's quick to respond to a text.

I pause in stride to read his response. Yeah, and the weird thing is that I don't even remember commenting on your vlog! ha ha! But I guess I did. In any case, winning something is def sweet. Thanks!

Chuckling, or shall I say, laughing villainously, I reply: np, my pleasure : )

I hurry out of our bathroom, unable to stop grinning as I wonder what Gia's going to think of the new and improved Rodney Parker.

WHILE GIA DRIVES us to school, I stare at the passing blur of oak trees on our right, my mind drifting to Uncle Tim. His flight left at eleven last night, so by now he's been in Alabama for exactly six hours. I hope he's taking this project seriously and not, like, hooking up with some random Alabama farmer's daughter or whatever.

"How's your stomach?" Gia asks as she slows for a red light at Woodland and Highland.

"Huh?" I frown in confusion and glance at Gia. And then I recall Uncle Tim's excuse for "picking me up from school early" yesterday.

"I said, how's your stomach?" she repeats, looking at me curiously.

"Better, thanks." I smile and we lock eyes. There's no way I'm going to let her catch me in a lie. I will stick to my story even if it kills me.

"Um..." Gia pauses, tucking a strand of hair behind her ears. "I'm sorry about yesterday."

Her crystal clear blue eyes are full of embarrassment and I shrug, guilt washing over me.

If anything, I'm the one who should be apologizing for lying. Lately, all I do is lie to Gia.

Unable to look her in the eye, I pretend to wipe a fleck of something off of my jeans as I say, "It's no big deal. We're family; we're supposed to fight. Next time you're hanging out with, um..." I pause, wondering whether or not I should mention Via. Probably not. I'm pretty sure they're still having friendship issues. "Um, with Latonya, I'll interrupt the two of you and-"

"Scream at me in front of an entire coffee shop?" she sheepishly chimes in.

I glance at Gia and her cheeks are red as she gives me an embarrassed smile.

"Aw, Gia," I quietly say. "At least you care about me. If you didn't care, you wouldn't have come into Coffee Etc's to..." I pause, trying to avoid saying to bite my head off in front of a multitude of strangers. "To check on me."

The light turns green and Gia returns her attention to the road while she says, "Yes, well I still shouldn't have yelled at you like that. How about I make up for it and buy you breakfast at Coffee Etc's?"

As ashamed as I am to admit this, the thought of my favorite breakfast sandwich and a cappuccino completely erases my guilt and I'm pumping my fist into the air.

"I knew it!" I stage whisper. "The guilt trip always works!"

Gia laughs. "I'll take that as a yes."

My phone rings and I dig it out of my backpack, hoping it's not Rod. I don't want to talk to him in front of Gia. She's smart (and paranoid) enough to put two and two together and figure out what I'm doing.

As I look at my phone and see who's calling, butterflies fill my stomach. This is definitely not Rodney Parker.

I take a deep breath and answer, "Van?"

Gia's head snaps around to my direction and though I turn to the window, I can see her in my peripheral, staring. "Is that Van?" she whispers.

Muting the phone while Van says hey, I turn to my sister. "No, I just said 'Hey, Van' for no reason."

Gia glares at me and I grab the door as she hangs a right into Coffee Etc's parking lot.

Unmuting the phone, I ask, "What's going on? Are you calling to tell me you finished my music?"

"I didn't finish it yet," he says, his voice unusually low. "I'm calling about something else, it's kind of serious. Do you know where my sister is?"

God, he sounds scared.

"I don't." I glance at Gia. "But Gia's with me, she might know something; I'll put you on speaker so she can hear you."

Gia turns to me expectantly.

I put the phone on speaker and Van's voice fills the car, "Via was supposed to fly to Connecticut and get there this morning, but she didn't show. My mom's really freaking out."

I watch Gia's eyes widen as she says, "Connecticut? She didn't tell me she was going to Connecticut. I don't know anything, Van. I'm so sorry."

Gia looks at me and sighing, pulls around to Coffee Etc's drive-thru.

"The moment we hear something, we'll call you. I promise," I quickly add.

"Thanks, Andy. I'll talk to y'all later," he says, hanging up.

"And that's exactly why Via gets on my nerves," I mumble. "She never thinks about who she's hurting."

Gia stops rolling down her window and turns to me. "Andy, don't start. We need to focus on figuring out where she is, not attacking her for making a mistake. Besides, the other day when you were cutting class to go to Alyssum Studios, did you stop to think about how much it would hurt Dad if he found out what you were doing?"

I bite down on my bottom lip. Gia has a point...

Turning away from her, I stare out of the window, looking at SLH's football field in the distance.

Glaring at the large field Heath and his teammates tear up nearly every Friday night, reminds me that if we want to find Via, the first person to talk to is her boyfriend. Heath must know where she is.

"Welcome to Coffee Etc's, what would you like to order today?" a static-ridden voice asks from Coffee Etc's speaker.

"The usual for you?" Gia whispers.

"Yeah, and then we call should Heath," I say. "You have his number, right?"

"I do. Good idea." She turns back to the speaker. "I'll have one Grande cappuccino, a bacon and gouda bagel sandwich, one Tall green tea, and a toasted everything bagel."

"That'll be ten ninety-six, please pull around to the window," the voice replies.

We pull forward and Gia grabs her purse from the backseat. "Don't get me wrong, Andy. Via gets on my nerves too. But when Mom died, Via was there for me and I'd be an idiot to forget that."

I nod, watching her pull her wallet out of her purse.

I can understand that...and really, in some ways Via's not all that different from me. I may not wear jeans that look like they've been painted on or skirts that consist of less than ten centimeters of fabric, but when I'm going after something that's important to me, I don't stop to think about the rules I'm breaking or the people I'm disappointing--I'm all about getting what I want. Via's exactly the same way. And even though I'm not experienced with guys the way she is, I know what it's like to be attracted to someone who probably wouldn't be all that good for me. In some ways, Via and I could be "almost twins."

"Sorry," I quietly say.

Gia hands her card to the barista and shoots me a grin. "It's no big deal. We're family; we're supposed to fight."

"I knew I should've copyrighted that."

I glance at the barista--a girl with spiky orange hair and a funky nose ring--and wonder where Kayleigh is. It seems like every time I come to Coffee Etc's, Kayleigh's here.

I start to ask the new barista this, when, just past the counter, I spot Via Nguyen standing next to some blond woman with the hugest chest I've ever in my life seen.

I hit Gia and she shrieks. "Why are you hitting me?"

"Look." I point to the coffee shop. "Via's right there!"

Gia gasps. "Oh my God, you're right! Who's that woman with her?"

"I don't know... Kristina Hendricks? Dolly Parton? Or maybe she's some crazy male geneticist's attempt at creating the perfect woman?" I mumble, briefly wondering what Van would think of me if I had a chest like this woman's.

It's stupid but...I don't know, guys don't really notice me in that way. I'm friends with a lot of them and I swear to God, none of them even realize I'm a girl. It's a little annoying, but it doesn't usually bother me--except when it's Van who doesn't notice.

The barista hands Gia her card back.

"We should go in there and find out--"

"No, we can't," I cut in, putting my hand on Gia's arm. "We have school and besides, this is Via's life. We should let her and her family deal with this."

"But-"

I shake my head. "No, Gia. Trust me. All we should do is call Van and tell him where we saw his sister. This is family business, their family."

Gia's eyes widen, and the barista who isn't Kayleigh announces, "Here you go!"

"Okay." Gia nods before turning back to grab our order.

She looks so sad that I decide to do her a favor. I set my phone in her lap and say, "You call Van and I'll hold the food."

Gia narrows her eyes at me. "I'm worried about Via right now, not--"

"Not hot for Van. Right, and neither am I." I roll my eyes. "Now that we've lied to each other, just call him. My gift to you."

Pursing her lips, Gia passes our food to me and picks up the phone.

#

#

# _Easy V_

I take a deep breath, inhaling Coffee Etc's aroma of chocolate, cappuccino, and hot breakfast sandwiches as I peer into the counter's display window, my gaze going to the toffee.

Crystal's paying, so I won't order it. That'd be totally bratty. But maybe later today I'll come back on my own and get a ton of toffee. After all, once Mom finds out I didn't get on the plane to Connecticut I'll need something sugary to drown my sorrows in.

"A coffee and a chocolate chip cookie for you, and I already know this chick's order," Kayleigh the barista says to Crystal before smiling at me. "A tall, nonfat decaf vanilla drizzled mocha with extra cinnamon and whip, right?"

"Whoa, you're good." Crystal nods approvingly and glances at me. "Was that right, Via?"

"Yep, it's right." I grin. "Kayleigh knows my order by now."

Kayleigh keys my order into the register and says, "Via's been ordering the same drink as long as I've worked here."

"I see--very cool," Crystal says as she hands Kayleigh her credit card and turns to me. "So anyway, like I was saying, this one time while I was sitting in class, this girl managed to get me to sit down in ketchup before she stuffed a ton of tampons in my backpack and then cut a hole in the bottom--"

"Here, Ms. Lovett." Kayleigh hands Crystal her receipt. "We'll call y'all when your orders are ready."

"Thanks. Where do you want to sit?" Crystal asks.

I glance around Coffee Etc's, my gaze lingering on the familiar two-seater Gia and I usually claim when we come here to talk. It's been forever since we've done that.

"How about there?" I point to the two-seater.

"Sure." Crystal sashays towards it and I fall in stride beside her. She sets her purse on the table and lowers herself into the seat as she continues her story, "So when the bell rang, I put my book bag on, stood up, and not only did it look like I had blood all over the back of my pants, but a ton of tampons fell out of my book bag."

Wow, Mia hasn't exactly done that to me yet.

I open my mouth to say something sympathetic and then stop because Crystal is, like, shaking with laughter.

I stare at her.

Still giggling, she wipes her watering eyes and manages to say, "I wish I could've seen the look on my face."

I shake my head. "I don't understand how you can laugh about that. If that had happened to me, I'd probably be drowning in my own tears."

Crystal nods and takes a deep breath, pulling herself together. Now that she's no longer laughing, she's looking at me like she's just realized something.

"Yeah, I see where you're coming from," she says. "And when it happened, believe me, I felt like it was the end of the world. I wanted to die."

I nod. That's a feeling I can relate to.

"But it wasn't the end of the world," Crystal says. "Now, I look back on it all and I can honestly say that high school is nothing. Once you graduate, life goes on. It gets better, even. That's why I can laugh about it now."

"I guess, but..." My voice trails off as I recall the disgusted look on the Principal's face when he caught me and Heath. Heat makes its way to my cheeks and I reach up to play with one of the heart-shaped earrings Heath gave me. "That had to be really embarrassing for you," I mumble.

"It was," Crystal agrees. "And for a while I was super depressed and angry. It was horrible. But one thing you can count on in life is change, and eventually everything changed. I graduated; I left high school behind and started a new life. Now I can laugh about that stuff and see how, in some ways, it was good for me."

"Good for you?" I arch an eyebrow.

"Crystal and Via!" Kayleigh shouts.

"That's us," Crystal says. I start to get up and she waves me away. "Stay put; I'll get it."

"Thanks."

Crystal heads to the coffee bar and I watch her. I still have trouble wrapping my head around the fact that she's with my dad. I mean, I can see why he'd like her--she's young and pretty and her boobs are the size of Texas--but why is she with him? Sure, Dad's not bad looking and he's not exactly poor, but he's a doctor not a billionaire, and he's fifty-one years old. Crystal can't be older than...like, twenty-five maybe?

I just don't get why some women go out with old guys like that.

Crystal returns to the table with a chocolate chip cookie and coffee for herself and one tricked out mocha for me.

She slides the mocha my way. "So, I consider it good for me because when all that stuff went down in high school, it made a lot of my so-called friends avoid me and left only the ones who weren't fake and who really liked me for who I was. I didn't have to guess who my real friends were; it was clearer than ever."

I take a sip of my drink and as Crystal breaks off a piece of her cookie, I ask, "So you're glad those girls made fun of you? Like, if you could go back and undo it, you wouldn't?"

She takes a bite of the cookie and shrugs. "I'm not glad they bullied me, but no, I wouldn't change anything about my life--not even what those girls did to me. Think about it, Via. Do you have a best friend?"

Gia's face comes to mind and I nod.

"When did you know, for sure, that she was your best friend and she'd always have your back?" Crystal asks, taking a sip of her coffee.

I freeze. Should I tell her? Oh, well, whatever.

"People at school call me, Easy."

"That's mean."

"No, it's true."

Crystal chokes on her coffee.

"Uh, you okay?" I ask.

She nods, her eyes wide and her face red. "Sorry, yes, I'm fine. Go on, honey, I'm listening."

My cheeks burning, I look down at my mocha. "My Freshman year I was going through a lot or whatever, and I hooked up with a few guys at school. And they weren't...you know, quiet about it or whatever. Guys talk. So they started calling me Easy V and then, um...basically nobody wants to be friends with the school "skank," so I lost all of my friends- except Gia. She's my best friend--Gia Moretti."

"Her name's almost like yours. Gia and Via." Crystal smiles. "That's cute."

"Yeah. It is. Anyways, Gia's so classy, Crystal. She's the kind of person who always says the right thing, never has a strand of hair out of place, and only hangs out with people who, like, meet certain standards. But after that stuff went down, she didn't ditch me. Maybe she was a little judgmental, but she kept inviting me over and she always stood up for me at school."

Crystal nods as I pause to take a sip of my drink. "She sounds like a pretty good friend."

"She is," I agree. "But what really sucks is now, because she's so nice to me--the school "skank" --nobody wants to hang out with her. They don't think she's slutty or anything, but they think she's weird for being my friend. It's like I ruined her and she doesn't even care. That's how good a friend she is."

"You're lucky to have each other," Crystal says. "She would've missed you if you'd moved away."

"Actually," My voice cracks and I pause to clear my throat. "Well..." I pause again, and this time it isn't because my voice is cracking. Frustration washing over me, I look down at my nails. The pink paint is beginning to chip. "Well, Gia might not have even noticed if I'd left because I've been avoiding her."

"Have you?"

"Yeah." I shrug. "We haven't hung out in months."

"Why's that?"

"Well, um, because ..." My voice trails off and I look at Crystal, wondering where to even begin. "Because..." My frustration building, I clamp my mouth shut and bite the inside of my cheek.

I can hear Crystal patiently chewing her cookie while I say nothing.

How do I even explain everything I'm feeling? I have no idea where to start...

After an eternity of quiet chewing and me just sitting here like a bump on a log Crystal finally asks, "Because?"

"I guess because I'm embarrassed or whatever," I say, pushing my mocha away and turning to the window at our left. I watch cars fly past on Woodland Road. "Everybody was right about me. I am a mess."

"Via," Crystal slides her hand across the table and gently sets hers on top of mine. I look at her, surprised. "What if I told you it isn't just you who's a mess?" she quietly asks. "What if I told you it's all of us?"

I smile and shake my head.

She doesn't understand.

"Not everyone does what I did."

Crystal pats my hand. "You're right. Not everyone does what you did. Some of us get drunk every night, and some of us steal to feed our crack addiction, and some of us gamble away our family's savings. So, yes, not everyone does what you did. The point is we all do something. You're not alone."

I stare at Crystal so hard that I spot a lone unplucked eyebrow hair above her otherwise flawlessly arched brows. She's right. No one's perfect. But knowing that doesn't stop me from feeling more imperfect than everyone else.

"I guess. But that doesn't stop it from feeling like I'm... alone."

Crystal nods in understanding, her eyes full of sympathy. "Yeah."

"Even though I'm not the way I was in ninth grade," I continue, "nobody at school seems to realize that. They don't want to forget all the mistakes I made. That's why I think maybe it'd be better for Gia if she wasn't my friend."

"Don't you miss her though?" Crystal asks.

"Of course." I bite down on my bottom lip. "But that doesn't change the fact that I'm a terrible friend with a terrible reputation and it'd be better for her if she didn't hang out with me."

"So you made some bad decisions in ninth grade--" Crystal starts.

"A lot of bad decisions. Like twelve," I interrupt. "And eight of them were on the football team, which was really dumb because all football players do is gossip."

"Okay, but you make better decisions now, right?"

"Right. I have a boyfriend," I quietly say and looking down at my mocha, I think of Heath. He called me this morning, twice, and then again when me and Crystal were on our way back from New Orleans. I haven't even checked his voice messages, let alone called him back.

I don't know why I'm avoiding him.

"But even if you didn't have a boyfriend, you'd still make better decisions now, right?" Crystal gently asks.

I frown. Would I?

"Yeah." I slowly say. "Well, maybe. I mean, I hope I would. Honestly, Crystal I don't even know; I'm still me."

"Alright. That's fair." Crystal looks at me with an incredibly grave expression. "Listen, Via, I hope you don't hate me for saying what I'm about to say. I just feel like I have to say it and it's totally just a suggestion."

I tense. "Uh, okay."

Crystal shifts in her seat, like she's gearing up to unpack a verbal smack down.

I tense even more.

"I think you've made a habit of running away from your problems instead of facing them head-on," she says. "And I used to do the exact same thing when I was your age."

I relax and nod my agreement. I can totally picture Crystal at my age, making the same mistakes I've made. It dawns on me that I probably shouldn't be nodding as if it's obvious that Crystal used to have a reputation like mine.

I stop nodding and stretch my eyes into what I hope passes as a look of surprise. "Oh, really? Did you?"

"Totally. In my case, what happened was that my dad... he, um, well, let's just call him "a real piece of work" and leave it at that."

I watch Crystal carefully. Her normally smiley face has turned to stone. "You mean, like, he was mean to you?"

"Horribly."

I start to ask "horrible how?" but Crystal shrugs and waves a hand dismissively. I take this to mean she doesn't want to go into detail.

"Gotcha," I say, and leave it at that.

"Yeah. So, anyway," Crystal continues. "When he'd bully me, I'd freeze in terror. Every time. Instead of standing up to him, I'd just cower and take whatever he dished out."

She lowers her gaze to her plate, her face blank as she stares at the remnants of her cookie. I bet she's remembering how she felt when her dad would yell at her or whatever.

"That must have been awful," I quietly say.

"It was," she blinks quickly and shifts in her seat, like my voice has pulled her out of her memories. "And after he'd bully me, I'd be a mess. Emotionally. I'd cry in my room and sometimes I'd even... well, let's just say it was bad. And after those horrible nights, the next day at school I'd start a fight with some random kid. It never failed. That was the pattern. He'd bully me. I'd cower. I'd hate myself for cowering. And the next day at school, I'd get in a fight."

She looks at me and I nod, encouraging her to continue.

"You see," she says, "instead of facing the real problem--my dad--I'd take my anger out on the kids at school. That was my way of letting off steam. But it was unhealthy. You get what I mean?"

I watch Crystal closely, noticing that her mascara has a super pretty violet tint as I process her story. So, she didn't sleep around with random guys like I did... she picked fights with random people.

"Okay," I slowly reply. "I get what you're saying, and I hate that you had to go through all that with your dad. But I'm sorry, I don't see how what happened to you fits my situation. I don't let off steam by starting fights with randos." I put on a smile and roll my eyes as I say, "I'm more of a lover, not so much a fighter..." What I've just said -I'm more of a lover, not so much a fighter- flies back at me with a sting I sit up straighter.

That's Crystal's entire point. I don't stick around to fight. Instead, I run away from my problems. To be specific, I run away from them and into the arms of some hottie who looks like a good candidate for taking my mind off of my problems.

The look on my face must reveal my realization because Crystal smiles with understanding and says, "You get what I mean?"

I blush. "Yeah. You picked fights to let off steam, and I hooked up with random guys to let off steam."

"Exactly." She nods. "We'd both have issues with whatever and instead of confronting them, we'd find ways to ignore them. But ignoring the real issues just creates more problems."

My face is now hotter than the sidewalk on a summer day because this conversation is actually sort of becoming embarrassing. Like, how is my dad's hooker-dressing girlfriend giving me life advice? I look down at my nails and chipped polish glares back at me.

"Via," Crystal says in a soothing voice. I look up to find her watching me with sympathy. "I think you should face whatever the real problem is, instead of running from it."

I actually kind of like Crystal, but her "advice" is beginning to get on my nerves now.

I cross my arms. "Did you ever face your issues with your dad?"

Crystal's face falls. "He died before that was possible."

Guilt seeps out of my conscience and fills my heart. My annoyance with Crystal disappearing, I uncross my arms. "I'm sorry. That sucks."

"Thanks and yeah, it does. But things don't have to end up that way for you." She meets my eyes and those violet lashes flutter back at me. "It's not too late for you to fix things with Gia or with your mom. And I'm positive you can fix whatever's going on with you and your dad. Quy doesn't shut up about you; he loves you so much."

Unsettling as it is to hear Crystal call my dad by his first name, the thought of him not being able to shut up about me makes me smile.

"It's never too late to fix things with the people who love you," Crystal says.

I sigh and hope she's right. But I don't know. The fact that Mom wants to ship me off to an aunt I've never even met says a lot about how much she loves me.

"And I'm thinking we should start now," Crystal says with a smile. "First, we should go see your dad to let him know what's going on. Otherwise, he might get upset if we wait too long..."

I nod and as Coffee Etc's front door chimes to announce the entrance of a patron, I look up. A petite woman wearing a dark business suit that's as somber as the scowl on her face enters the small coffee shop and at the sight of her, my heart nearly stops.

Craaaaap!

Coffee Etc's front door closes behind my mother as she removes her sunglasses and fixes her dark eyes on mine.

"I think we've already waited too long," I whisper. "We're dead."

#

#

# _The Rose_

Normally, I love my Logic class, but today I am unable to concentrate on a word my teacher is saying.

"So any valuation for this formula must, by definition, assign A one of..." Ms. Hart excitedly explains while I watch a gray strand of hair fall out of her messy updo. Her double chin shakes as she makes yet another emphatic gesture and my gaze goes to her shapeless brown dress which is, essentially, a potato sack with arm holes.

Ms. Hart is thirty-ish, single, and...weird.

It's not being single that makes her weird, but based on observation, I gather that she's single because she's weird. I also gather that by the time I'm thirty, I'll be exactly like Ms. Hart.

That's why my sister doesn't talk to me about things anymore--because I'm weird. I stalk her when she skips class and I scream at her in coffee shops. This behavior classifies me as "weird."

Ms. Hart spins around, pointing to the window as she says, "If, say, a bird were to fly into this window here, we would conclude that..."

I glance at the cute senior to my right, Blake Pianciano. Logic is one of the few classes where different grades mix and I'm glad I decided to take it because not only is Logic fascinating, but stealing peeks at Blake Pianciano isn't an awful way to spend an hour.

He's handsome in a dark and brooding Theo James or Liam Hemsworth way. But he doesn't say very much, at least not to me.

Then again, most of my male classmates only talk to me when they need to copy my homework. I assume Ms. Hart had the same problem when she was my age.

Watching Blake not even bother to pretend that he's paying attention is amusing.

At the moment, he's hunched over his notebook, drawing something. He sits up to stretch and I peek at his notebook.

I nearly laugh out loud: he's sketching a picture of him kissing some girl.

Blake shifts in his seat and I look away, focusing on Ms. Hart.

I bet Blake actually kissed the girl in his picture and he's drawing a memory, instead of a wish. If I wanted to draw a memory of a kiss, I'd have nothing but a blank sheet of paper.

My thoughts return to Via's accusation when we were at lunch yesterday... "For one," she'd said, "you have no idea what it's like to be kissed, held, or loved by a guy who wants to be with you..." She was so right.

I bite down on my bottom lip and lower my eyes to my desk as a sudden urge to cry slinks down on me. I'm probably the only girl in tenth grade who hasn't kissed a guy.

That's pathetic.

"Remember de Morgan's Law!" Ms. Hart exclaims. I look up to find her pointing to the board. Spittle flies from her lips to land on the unfortunate students who occupy the front row. The students wipe their faces and exchange glances with each other while Ms. Hart, oblivious, continues her spittle-punctuated rant.

Yeah, that's me in fourteen years: a lonely spinster with a tendency to spit. Nice.

The bell finally rings, thank goodness. Grabbing my notebook and purse, I slide out of my desk and accidently run right into Blake while he tries to make his way out of the aisle.

I quickly back away, but I can't stop the grin that pins itself to my lips as I say, "Sorry."

Blake frowns, grunts something unintelligible, and walks around me.

Wow. I must be invisible...or just outright hideous.

Running a hand over my ivory lace blouse, dusting away possible grime, I leave the classroom and head to my locker.

As usual, the hallway is crammed, loud, and annoying. My gaze goes to a girl and guy taping a senior prom poster above the water fountain.

When I was a kid, I'd watch movies like Twilight and get ideas about prom being this fantastic night, during which I'd share a dance with a hot vampire, or something like that.

Sighing, I move past a kissing couple to get to my locker.

Now that I'm actually in high school and everyone around me is excited about the prom, I don't even want to go. Why would I go without a date, or even a friend, to hang out with?

In front of my locker, I freeze.

A single red rose is taped to it. Confused, I stare at the flower.

"Whoa, Gia!"

I turn around and my sister is standing behind me. Several textbooks in her arms and a huge grin on her lips, Andy nods to my locker. "Secret admirer?"

I shake my head, but a smile is sneaking into my expression. "I have no idea."

I reach for the rose and as I peel it from my locker, I notice a small note with it.

Andy's practically breathing down my neck as she asks, "What's it say?"

I open the note and hold it so she can read it with me.

"Roses are red," Andy reads aloud, while my heart skips a beat. "Your eyes are blue, I think you're pretty, and very kind too. Aww. It's cheesy, but sweet."

"Wow." I grin.

Someone actually wrote this for me?

Andy turns to me, her eyes sparkling. "Who do you think sent it?"

I'm unable to stop grinning as I shake my head. "I have no idea."

"Lucky you!" She wiggles her eyebrows and repositions her huge backpack on her shoulders. "Can you meet me on the front lawn at lunch? I want to talk for a minute."

My heart lifts even more. "Yes, of course."

"Great." She nods and points to her right. "I better go. See you at lunch."

"Yeah, talk to you at lunch," I agree, watching her walk away.

Well, maybe I'm not Ms. Hart after all.

As I glance down at the rose and mysterious note, I'm not sure which excites me more: the fact that I have a secret admirer or that my sister couldn't stand not talking to me and now she's finally going to spill the beans about her crush on Rodney!

#

#

# _Serenity Bayous_

I've been jonesing for an update on The Tessa Lyles Project all morning, but I've been stuck in my classes. I figure SLH's photo lab will be the best place to have a private conversation with Uncle Tim. He called me twice while I was in First Hour, so whatever it is he's found must be good.

I tear out of our school's main building and immediately squint at the glare of the sun. Why, why, why is it like summer nearly all year round here? Annoyed, I dart past a few meandering students and make my way to the lab. Hopefully this time the Principal and Ms. Karin won't barge in while I'm trying to talk to Uncle Tim. I push my way into the lab, its heavy door slamming shut behind me as I hurriedly return Uncle Tim's call.

He answers on the first ring. "Andy!"

"Sorry I missed your calls, I was in class. But we can talk now." I lean against the counter and bite down on one of my nails. "So, what did you find?"

"This is..." Uncle Tim pauses. "This is crazy, Andy. At first I thought you were making this whole thing up or that you were confused, but it's real. And it goes deep."

My heart pounds. "What happened?"

"First of all, the lab where I.T.I.S. kept Tessa--it's not here. In fact, I think it's in Swamp Rose."

"Wait, what?! It's here?" I say, my mouth going dry. "Why? Why do you think it's here?"

Uncle Tim takes a deep breath. "It turns out that seventeen years ago, Tessa's older sister, Karen Lyles, was in a nearly fatal car accident with one of her classmates--a boy named Nathaniel Colbert. After their accident that Jayne Mire woman, she's the I.T.I.S. doctor who Tessa kept bad-mouthing in her diary. Remember? Tessa kept saying that Dr. Mire was performing all these weird experiments on her and--"

"Yeah, yeah, I remember. Dr. Mire was the head of I.T.I.S. and Tessa hated her," I interrupt. "What's your point?"

"I'm getting there. Just listen," he hurriedly replies. "After Karen and Nathaniel were taken to the hospital, Dr. Mire took over their cases. This happened the same week that Karen, Tessa, their father, and Nathaniel were all reported missing. That's also the same week that Dr. Mire became the head of our mental hospital here in Swamp Rose."

"Our mental hospital? You mean Serenity Bayous?" I ask, picturing the huge brick mental hospital on the outskirts of town.

"Yep, Serenity Bayous. Right there in Swamp Rose."

"So, you're saying Dr. Mire was from here?" Closing my eyes so I can think better, I say, "And that she kidnapped Tessa and brought her here?"

"Not just Tessa," Uncle Tim says. "Nathaniel, the boy who was in the car accident, I'm thinking she took him too. And it would makes sense that she also kidnapped Tessa's older sister and Tessa's father. All three of them went missing after that accident and they were never heard from again. So, it's possible that Dr. Mire brought them all back to Serenity Bayous to experiment on them or whatever it was she was doing to people in that place."

My eyes still closed, I think this over. "You think Dr. Mire kidnapped them all..." I open my eyes and shake my head. "No. I don't think so. In the diary, Tessa called Dr. Mire a murderer and accused her of killing her family. Remember?"

"Okay. Yeah, so?" Uncle Tim slowly replies.

"So, most likely Dr. Mire killed Tessa's older sister and father, and maybe even that boy, Nathaniel, while they were still in Alabama, and then she dragged Tessa here, to Serenity Bayous."

"Well, whatever. But, Andy my point is that this... this whole thing is a lot bigger than you thought," Uncle Tim says, his voice low. "That Dr. Mire woman, whoever she really was, she had a lot of power. And whatever was happening at Serenity Bayous, it was big. For all we know, it's still happening. Tessa may even still be there."

Chills run down my arms and I stare unseeingly at a collage of pictures on the wall ahead. "Tessa Lyles could be at Serenity Bayous?" The six words come out as a whisper and I clear my throat. "You're telling me that all this time, the answers have been, literally, right down the street at Serenity Bayous?"

"That's how it looks."

"Then as soon as you get back we have to break in to Serenity Bayous and see if Tessa's still-"

"No. No way." Uncle Tim's voice shakes. "It's not that easy. We can't-"

"Easy?" I cut him off. "Who said anything about easy? Of course it's not going to be easy. We're talking about breaking into a murder's lair! But if Tessa Lyles is still being held there, we have to help her."

"Yeah, but-"

"No 'buts,'" I snap. I'm not going to let Uncle Tim get lazy on me now. Not when it comes to something as important as saving a woman's life. "This was the whole point of you going to Peake, to find out what happened to Tessa. And now that we have a clue, we can't give up because it's "not easy." We have to take the next step! "

"Sweetheart, you have to let me finish explaining what I'm trying to tell you. Listen," he says. "Something pretty intense happened when I started talking to Peake locals. There are definitely people here who should've known Tessa and her sister."

"Okay. So, what'd they say?" I demand.

"Peake's a pretty small town, tinier than Swamp Rose even, and the thing is...everyone here has the same memory problem. It's like the Twilight Zone around here. No one in this town can remember anything, and I mean anything that happened before the year Tessa and her sister went missing. I know this sounds crazy but, Andy, it's like these people's memories have been erased."

"What?" I freeze. Surely I've misheard what he's just said.

"I said it's like these people's memories have been erased."

"Like their memories have been erased?" I repeat.

As the words come out of my mouth, it dawns on me that I'm talking to Uncle Tim, a goof-off who's known for his practical jokes. Is this all part of some joke he's trying to play on me?

I drum my fingers on the counter, trying to decide if he's playing me, because come on... erased memories? This is beginning to sound far-fetched, even for me.

"Give me a specific example of what you mean," I say.

"Right. Um...so, I talked to the principal of the local high school where Tessa, Karen, and Nathaniel were enrolled and the man couldn't remember anything from the three years those kids were students at his school."

"Is he old?"

"I know where you're going with this, and no, the principal isn't old and senile. He's an intelligent guy, looks to be in his late fifties. At first I didn't think much of his missing memories, found it a little odd, but whatever. So, next I stopped by the local Sheriff's Office and spoke to him. He was the same Sheriff who the newspaper took a quote from at the scene of Nathaniel and Karen's accident, so you'd think he'd remember it, right?"

"Yeah, right."

"But when I asked the Sheriff about the accident, he said he didn't remember anything like that happening. So, I showed him the news article and he got confused. He said it must be a fake article and he even started to get upset with me- like I was antagonizing him."

I stop drumming my fingers on the counter and cross my arms. "Did you talk to anyone else who had memory problems?"

"Yeah, I met with a nurse at the hospital where Karen and Nathaniel were taken after the accident and she said that all hospital records prior to 1998 had been accidentally destroyed in a fire."

How convenient. I bite down on my bottom lip, listening as Uncle Tim continues, "Not only that, but the nurse couldn't seem to remember specific details about anything that'd happened prior to 1998."

"Like, nothing at all?"

"Well, she could remember things from way before then, like we talked about some of her favorite television shows from the 80's. But she drew a blank when it came to things that happened in the mid to late nineties, which would be Karen, Tessa, and Nathaniel's era."

My mouth completely dry, I gulp. "So, basically, you're saying we're stuck in some kind of M. Night Shyamalan film."

"Huh?"

"Nothing," I reply, still reeling from the fact that he's not joking about any of this. "So, either all of those people in Peake are lying or they honestly can't remember anything?"

"Exactly."

I take a deep breath. This is literally impossible. "How can a whole town's memories be erased?" Then recalling the confused old lady I talked to on the phone yesterday, I say, "And actually, I talked to one of the Lyles's neighbors on the phone, and she had no trouble remembering them."

"That was probably Ms. Davidson. I talked to her too--she has Alzheimer's. She thinks she's still living in the 90's. She even told me a few things about the Lyles before she got confused and asked me to leave. I don't know what's going on here, Andy," Uncle Tim speaks quickly, an edge to his voice. "But it's big and it's dangerous. Erased memories? What does that tell us about I.T.I.S.? I mean, what kind of people have the ability and the will to do this to an entire town?"

"Yeah," I whisper, a wave of fear rushing over me. I run my palms over my arms, trying to get rid of the chills that keep finding their way back to me.

"I want to help Tessa as much as you do. But this is too dangerous. I don't think we should get involved."

Uncle Tim's words pull me out of my fear-induced hesitance. "But if I.T.I.S. is still holding Tessa captive, we have to be involved!"

"The Police-"

"The police still won't listen to us because we don't have enough evidence," I point out. "We need to get into Serenity Bayous and at least see if we can find some evidence that she's there."

"Andy, no-"

"You know what? If you want out, fine. I'm smart, I can figure out how to get into Serenity Bayous and snoop around. I can do it myself."

"Jesus, Andy," Uncle Tim hisses. "No, you're not doing that. There's no way I'm letting my niece-"

"Woah, there," I cut him off before he can continue that stupid sentence. "I love you, Uncle Tim but you can't tell me what to do. I do what I want, and right now I want to save Tessa Lyles. So, this is happening with or without you."

"We don't even know if she's still in Serenity Bayous!" Uncle Tim exclaims. "She could have escaped on her own."

"And if she did, great!" I shout. "But I, at least, want to find out if that's what happened."

"Oh, my God!" he yells. I cringe and hold the phone away from my ear. "Fine. You're so...Jesus, Andy. Okay. Look, I will come home and I will check it out for you. I can't believe I'm agreeing to this."

My heart skips a beat. "What do you mean by "check it out"? What exactly are you going to do?"

"I'll...I don't know, I'll..."

"You'll apply for a part time job as an orderly at Serenity Bayous?" I suggest.

Uncle Tim sighs. Deeply. "If I do that, will you promise to let me do this and you'll just stay out of the whole thing?" he asks, his voice low.

He sounds more worried than I've ever heard him and I hate how nervous that makes me. "Andy, I'm serious," he says. "You have to promise me."

"Yeah, sure, I promise I'll stay out of it," I lie. "But can you at least keep me updated?"

" Of course."

The lunch bell rings and remembering my other plan -Operation Distract Gia- I say, "Hey, I've got to go take your advice and give Gia someone to else to 'mother.'"

"Alright," he says, sounding tired. "Bye, kid. I'll see you soon."

"Bye." I hang up and glance down at my phone.

This is insane and so much bigger than I expected. A whole town's memories erased? I need to do more research...

I open an internet tab on my phone.

In all of my Tessa Lyles research, there was one person whose name I foolishly failed to look up. I type "Dr. Jayne Mire" into Google and "Head of I.T.I.S." appears as one of the results.

I.T.I.S. --that's the organization Tessa mentioned in her diary!

My nerves spike at the sight of the familiar word and I click on the link, which redirects me to the official I.T.I.S. website.

The website looks hella outdated, like something from the early 90's. At the top of the screen is a red and black I.T.I.S. logo followed by the words, "Welcome to the International Team of Investigatory Science."

Shivers claim my spine as I read, "We need volunteers who suffer from any type of illness or neurological disorder to visit I.T.I.S. headquarters and be evaluated by our team of specialists. We're located just outside of Swamp Rose, Louisiana on a beautiful secluded island that you'll come to know as home."

A secluded island off the coast of Swamp Rose?

My breath catches in my throat.

So, all along, I.T.I.S. was right here in town. And apparently, it wasn't only Tessa Lyles who was taken- this website has an open invitation to all kinds of kids with disabilities.

That means Tessa Lyles, along with God knows how many other kids, were kidnapped and experimented on right here in Swamp Rose. They were either being kept on some mysterious island in the Gulf or in Serenity Bayous mental hospital.

I shove my phone into my pocket, leave the photo lab and vow to get to the bottom of what I.T.I.S. was doing to Tessa Lyles and to the other children they "invited" to their program.

I don't care what kind of trouble this investigation gets me into--lives may be at stake.

#

#

# _The Lunch Date_

I never would have thought I'd be this excited about meeting my little sister for lunch- but I must confess that I am thrilled. After months of keeping me out of the loop, Andy's finally planning to let me in on one of the most profound aspects of her personal life! I can't wait for her to spill the beans about her budding relationship with Rodney.

My lunch bag in hand and my purse slung over my shoulder, I jog down the steps leading to SLH's front entrance and make my way to an available bench on the school's front lawn.

At my right, two seniors toss a Frisbee while, to my left, a few girls who I recognize from my time in math club sit in the grass talking and laughing as they eat their lunches. One of them catches my eye and waves.

I wave back and head to the bench. Sitting down, I pull out my apple juice and take a sip.

My sandwich is going to be delicious--it's a salmon po'boy with spicy ranch dressing. I made it this morning. I'd rather not eat it just yet as I'm sure Andy will want half.

Andy and Via are the reason I make unusually large sandwiches for lunch. Every day at least one of them wants half of my lunch (of course, these days it's usually Andy, seeing as Via doesn't typically eat lunch with me anymore).

The girls who sit on the grass laugh like they've just heard the funniest joke in the world and I glance their way.

One of them is imitating our school's football coach, Coach Jacobs.

She pulls her head back, giving herself a double chin as she bellows, "On the ground now, son! Fifty push-ups, son!"

They laugh and I chuckle.

It's a pretty good imitation--a lot better than Via's. When she tries to imitate someone, she always ends up sounding like Jenna Marbles.

As my thoughts drift to Via, I lose my grin. Via must be mortified about the Principal catching her with Heath. I guess she's too embarrassed to talk to me about it--but that doesn't mean I can't reach out to her and see how she's holding up.

I grab my phone and message her: Via, how are you? I miss you.

While I'm texting, footsteps approach my bench, crunching leaves beneath them. I assume the footsteps belong to Andy and don't even bother to look up as I finish my text.

"Hey," I say, my eyes on my phone.

"Hi, Gia," a familiar male voice replies.

Surprised, I look up. "Oh, I thought you were--" My words tumble away, falling off the tip of my tongue and all I can do is stare at Rodney Parker in disbelief.

Wait a minute...is this Rodney?

The ridiculously handsome boy who looks like Rodney grins and briefly glances down at his feet while his Adam's apple moves up and down in his throat.

This mannerism tells me that I'm definitely looking at Rodney Parker.

"But your glasses...?" I blurt and point to his face.

Just above his pronounced cheekbones, Rodney's dark brown eyes are, for once, not hidden behind a pair of bulky spectacles. Instead, they're warm and shy and...beautiful. Not only this, but his formerly untamed brown hair has been neatly cut.

"Yeah." He shifts on his feet. "Your sister made me toss the glasses and try contacts."

Oh, yeah. My sister. Andy. She must be with Rodney now. My thoughts drift back to the note I found in her book bag last night. I guess she gave him the note and now they're officially together... wow. That's great. I'm happy for her.

I force a smile. "So Andy's already appointed herself director of your wardrobe?"

Rodney's smile wanes and he seems confused. But the look passes and he regains his grin. "I don't mind, Andy usually knows what she's talking about."

"Well, she definitely does in this case. You look so, um..." I hesitate. Would it be wrong if I said handsome? Would that sound too familiar? I bite down on my bottom lip and decide to go with, "You look so nice."

"Thanks." He grins and points to the bench. "Mind if I sit?"

"Of course not." I move my purse and make room for him. "Please."

Rodney opens his bag of chips and I steal another peek at him.

He wears a simple sky blue button down shirt with khakis, but he looks really good. I hope Andy realizes how lucky she is.

Rodney turns to me, extending his bag of chips my way. "Want some?"

"Sure." I hope he didn't notice me staring. "Thanks." I take one of the offered chips and ask, "So, did you ever figure out that trapezoid stuff from the other day? And sorry I couldn't stay."

He smiles, displaying those same perfectly straight white teeth.

"That's all right. And honestly, I already understood it. In fact, I was planning to cancel on Mr. Bolton until he told me he was going to ask you to tutor me." Rodney's eyes soften with shyness and he glances at me. "I just wanted an excuse to talk to you."

My heart skips a beat. I look down at my bottle of apple juice. "Oh." I start to say something more and then stop- because what can I say? My sister's new boyfriend just admitted he had a crush on me as recent as two days ago! Why would he even bring that up?

I unscrew the cap of my apple juice and take a long sip. Rodney says not a word and I don't dare look at him. I assume he's too embarrassed by his faux pas to trust himself to speak just yet.

"So," he finally says, before crunching on a chip. With this, he waves the bag in front of me and I take another. "You know that new movie coming out this weekend with, uh, that actor who played Ironman?"

I nod. "Robert Downy Jr.? Yeah, Andy only talks about it every day."

"You want to see it this weekend?" he asks.

I turn to Rodney. He's looking straight ahead and he seems nervous.

Wait a second... why does it feel like he's asking me out on a date?

Is he? I've never been asked on a date, so I don't really know...but this is exactly how I've always imagined it would be.

Butterflies flit around my stomach. This can't possibly be the case, Rodney Parker is not asking me to go on a date with him. But if he isn't, then why does he seem tense?

I take a closer look at Rodney to see if I've imagined his supposed "nerves."

Rodney gulps and discreetly shifts in his seat.

Yeah, he's definitely on pins and needles. I don't understand what's happening...

Rodney turns to me and I brush potential traces of crumbs from my mouth. "Sure. But, um, you mean, like, the three of us, right? You, Andy, and me?"

One of Rodney's eyebrows quirks. "Oh. Definitely, of course. I know you guys are close, so... yeah."

I'm so confused. I stare at Rodney as I try to figure out what's happening... Does this mean he's asking me to come with he and Andy because he thinks I'll feel left out were Andy to go somewhere without me? Or, was he asking me to the movies and my mentioning Andy threw him off? But why the heck would he ask me to go to the movies with him when he and Andy are already together?

Or maybe I'm reading too much into this. Maybe the nice guy who my sister is dating is asking me to join them at the movies and I'm such a lonely spinster that I'm creating issues where there are none...

"It'll be fun," Rodney says, with a strained smile.

This pulls me out of my stupor and I nod.

"Oh." I frown as I recall Andy's busy weekend schedule. "I think Andy has an AniMalls shoot this weekend; we'll have to check with her to see what time she'll be free."

He nods, some of his tension lessening. "Do you usually help her with filming?"

I chuckle. "No way. She's a tad difficult to work with if you know what I mean. Not that I'm trying to scare you off or anything; she's just a perfectionist when it comes to her work."

He smiles. "I guess that runs in your family."

"Not really. I'm not good with cameras like she is."

"I mean, being a perfectionist," Rodney says, his eyes briefly meeting mine. "You seem like you like things to be perfect too."

I grin and inwardly cringe. That right there explains precisely why he's dating my sister and not me. I'm the stick-up-butt perfectionist while Andy's the Jennifer Lawrence of South Louisiana High: quirky and fun. Andy is a perfectionist only when it comes to her craft, which she just so happens to be a genius at.

"And maybe that's why you're best friends with Via," Rodney says.

"What do you mean?"

"She's a free spirit and you're...dependable," he replies, balling up his empty bag of chips and stuffing it in his lunch bag. At this, he smiles at me and, my cheeks warming, I return his grin. "You balance each other." He points to his lunch bag. "I have a sandwich, want half?"

"That's the first time anyone's asked me that," I say, wistful.

Rodney's eyebrows go up and he seems confused, but he smiles. "Really?"

My underarms start to itch. I clear my throat and explain, "Actually I already have a sandwich, so no thanks. But, it's just that I usually split my sandwich with Via or my sister. One of them always forgets their lunch and when that happens I'm their go-to. So, no one ever asks me if I want half of their sandwich."

After that long-winded ramble, I shift in my seat, wondering if there's a way I can discreetly scratch under my arms. Who knew I could get this flustered around Rodney Parker?

"Well," Rodney says, retrieving his sandwich from his lunch bag, "you can always have half of mine."

"Thanks." My stomach rumbles and I open my lunch bag, deciding to at least take a few bites.

"To us, sandwich friends." Rodney holds out his sandwich, which is still in saran wrap.

Grinning, I lift mine and bump it against his in a "toast" as I agree, "Here's to us."

He unwraps his and it smells delicious; I think it's roast beef.

My underarms are, thankfully, beginning to chill out as I take a bite of my sandwich.

"You know, I think you're right about Via," I say. "We're completely different, but in some ways we're so alike it's crazy. Like, we have opposite tastes in music; she thinks Iggy Azalea is amazing and I prefer real music, you know? No offense if you're an Iggy fan."

Rodney grins. "I'm not offended."

I laugh. "Would you even tell me if you were?"

His smile widens. "No." I laugh again and he says, "Seriously, it's fine. So, what do you and Via have in common?"

I fiddle with the foil on my po'boy. "Okay, so when I was a kid, everyone in my family made fun of me because I was particular about keeping my closet super organized. No one else in my family is like that. They come home and throw their jackets and whatever on the floor, the bed, just all over the furniture, you know? So, in my family I felt like this huge OCD freak. But the first time I went to Via's house and I saw her closet, it was exactly like mine."

I glance at Rodney and he's watching me expectantly, listening. He nods, silently inviting me to continue.

"She had everything color coordinated and crazy organized. Just like me," I say. "Who else does that?"

"Nobody normal," Rodney replies.

I smile. "Exactly. We're night and day on some things, but in other ways we're almost twins. And I guess that's why we're best friends, or why we used to be best friends. When it came to the stuff that mattered, we had a lot in common."

I bite into my sandwich. It tastes wonderful and the spicy ranch is perfect--it gives it a nice kick without overpowering the salmon.

"So, you and Via aren't best friends anymore?" Rodney asks.

"I don't know. We don't talk like we used to. I, um...never mind." I decide to stop there. I don't want to ramble about how I've managed to lose my best friend.

"You what?" Rodney asks.

"I don't think she wants to be friends anymore." I look down at my food and hope the lump in my throat will go away.

Rodney stops eating and turns to me. "I doubt that, Gia."

I shake my head. "No, I'm pretty sure she's sick of me."

Crap. The lump is getting worse. In fact, I think I might start crying. I take a quick sip of apple juice and try to pull myself together.

"Hey," Rodney says, his voice gentle. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." I glance at him and as our eyes meet, butterflies send a quiver through my stomach.

"Gia!"

Andy's voice snaps me out of my trance and I jump up, literally bolting from the bench as if I've been bitten. My sandwich falls from my lap and lands in the grass.

Andy's running towards us, her wild hair everywhere. "Hey! I just wanted to come tell y'all I can't stay for lunch because Principal Williams asked me to shoot a promo video for the school--how awesome is that?"

She's beaming and I overcompensate for my nerves by mirroring her enthusiasm. "Oh, Andy! That's so great!"

"Yeah, so I gotta go work on the video," Andy says, her gaze darting to Rodney. "Have a good lunch."

He grins but doesn't move to kiss or even hug her.

"Bye!" Andy slaps my arm and before I can say another word, runs off towards SLH's main building.

Well, I guess we'll talk later... I glance at Rodney....and in the meantime, I'll try to stop crushing on her boyfriend.

He points to my fallen sandwich. "Sorry for your loss."

I look down at it. "Me too. She'll be missed."

"Your sandwich was a girl?"

I sit back down on the bench and sigh. "I guess."

"Here." He hands me half of his roast beef and sits beside me. "Mine's a dude; hope you don't mind."

"I don't mind." I accept it. "Thanks, Rodney."

I steal a peek at him and he's looking at me.

My thoughts blur and blend, making very little sense as they bump into one another, causing tons of crashes in my mind and sending palpitations to my heart.

The one logical thought I seem to be able to form is that Andy was right: Rodney Parker isn't so bad.

I take a bite of his sandwich and force myself not to steal another peek at my sister's new boyfriend.

#

#

# _Weirdness in the Teacher's Lounge_

I used to view our school's teachers' lounge as some kind of amazing and mysterious oasis in an educational desert. Now that I'm in the room, I can see that it's actually just really gross.

The air is permeated by a rotten-egg stench, and to top things off Mia Reeves is with me and she, literally, will not stop talking. My biceps ache as I strain to adjust the length of my tripod, which is bulky and way too heavy. Mia sees my struggle, but she doesn't offer a hand. She simply continues to yammer endlessly about her relationship problems with Ran. I roll my eyes and finally stretch the tripod to a workable height.

Mia's constant yacking plus the Tessa Lyles stuff I've been worrying about since my conversation with Uncle Tim is beginning to give me a stress headache.

"So Ran was all like, 'Mia I wasn't trying to make you jealous.' But I'm thinking he was because he can be crafty like that, you know? Hey, Andy?" Mia says, her tone changing, "Are you going to Ms. Karin's house tonight for the cold reading? Oh, wait! Do you want me to stand here or like, closer to the counter?"

"Huh?" Straightening my glasses, I glance at her.

Mia arches an eyebrow. "Were you listening to anything I just said?"

I paste on a grin. "Why wouldn't I listen to the person who helped me raise two thousand dollars in one day and then agreed to help me film this stupid promo for Principal Williams?"

Unless, of course, I'm preoccupied with the fact that an organization of mad scientists may have been kidnapping children and experimenting on them right here in Swamp Rose! Yeah, that might make me deaf to anything anyone says for the next couple of days.

Mia smiles and waves me off. "No worries, bubby. Just remember to thank me when you win your Grammy. And you better thank me first, even before you thank the Academy."

She laughs at her own joke and I shake my head in despair. Is there even any point in explaining to her that the Grammy's and The Academy Awards are two different things?

Mia tosses her blond hair over her shoulder and points to the refrigerator at her left. "I'm thinking you want me to move away from the refrigerator that looks like it's covered in vomit. Because if kids see that in the promo video, it won't make them want to come to our school. Right?"

"Yeah, good idea," I nod. "And you remember what to say, right?"

"Totally. I say, 'This is the room where our teachers shoot up in between classes,'" Mia replies, gesturing to the room around her. "Then you put that online, everyone sees it, thinks our teachers are on drugs, SLH gets shut down. Bam. No more school."

I grin. "Yeah, good plan. But, seriously, are you ready?"

"Of course." She tugs at her shirt and starts smiling at the camera like she's on America's Next Top Model.

"Why did I even ask? You were born ready," I say while I position myself behind the camera. I hit record and point to her. "On three. One, two, three, action!"

Mia ditches her Kardashian-esque voice, puts on a surprisingly professional tone, and gestures to her right. "When South Louisiana High's faculty wants to take a break, they come here, to--"

The door to the teacher's lounge flies open and Ms. Karin stumbles into the room. Her hair is uncharacteristically disheveled and she's slightly out of breath, like she's been running.

She comes to an abrupt halt, looks at me, the camera, and then Mia.

"I'm sorry, girls, but I need the room for a moment," Ms. Karin says with a shake of her head. I try to hold back a smile. Ms. Karin's just pronounced I'm as ahm and I as ah. For some reason, she develops a thick southern drawl when she's stressed out. I've pointed this out to other kids at school, but no one else seems to have noticed the accent. I guess this is because Ms. Karin is rarely stressed.

Mia sighs loudly. "But we're using the room."

"My apologies," Ms. Karin speaks quickly, her words rushed, "and I wouldn't ask if it weren't important. I just need to make a quick phone call. I won't be long."

At this point Ms. Karin's every other word is drenched in an Alabama-like twang. I think this means her anxiety is on the way to skyrocketing. Poor woman.

I glare at Mia for being such a tool as I say, "No problem, Ms. Karin. The room's all yours." With this, I start for the door and motion for Mia to follow me.

IN THE HALLWAY, Mia leans against the wall and gripes, "Why didn't she just go to her car or something?"

"Why didn't she walk all the way to the parking lot just to make a phone call? Would you do that?" I retort as I move to stand beside Mia.

She snorts. "First of all, I wouldn't be a teacher here, so I'd never be in that situation."

I glance at Mia. Her perfect clothes, shoes, and make-up look like they cost as much as my entire wardrobe. I bet they do. Her family's crazy rich. I've heard they're millionaires.

So, basically, Mia's right; it's not likely that she'll ever be an SLH teacher.

"Your dad's head of an oil company or something like that, right?" I ask.

Mia's eyes narrow and her jaw clenches. She turns to me. "Why?"

"What do you mean, why? It's a normal question."

Turning away from me, she looks straight ahead and her eyebrows furrow. "He's a giant douche. That's what my dad is."

I blink back at her. I have no idea what to say to that.

I clear my throat. "Okay." I pause. "Well, what makes him a, um, a giant douche?"

Mia sucks in her cheeks, like a fish, and quietly says, "He--" My phone rings loudly and she glances at me out of the corner of her eye.

I tense. This could be Uncle Tim calling with more news on the Tessa Lyles Project. But I can't just cut Mia off. I make like a good friend, and fix my gaze on Mia.

"I'm listening," I say.

Her eyes widen as she loses her frown, and for a moment, Mia Reeves looks more vulnerable than I've ever seen her.

I start to ask her what's wrong, but before I can open my mouth she's speaking. "You should get that," she says, her gaze leaving mine. She takes a step away from the wall and avoids looking at me. "I'm going to grab something from the vending machines."

"Oh." Surprised, I watch her fold her arms and walk away. It's not like Mia to ditch an opportunity to blab her every problem to a half-listening ear. Odd. I guess her issues with her dad are an exceptionally sore subject.

I bite down on my bottom lip, filing this moment away.

Later. I'll dig into this later. Right now, I need to see if Uncle Tim is calling me with an update. I reach into my pocket, grab my phone, and our local news station's number stares back at me.

I hit answer just as Ms. Karin exits the teachers' lounge. I bring the phone to my ear and say, "Hello," but keep my eyes trained on Ms. Karin. Her expression reads beyond upset. Her face, darkened by a deep scowl, is drawn and there's a sort of panic in her eyes as she hurries down the hall, the door to the lounge slamming shut behind her.

Holy Hitchcock. I don't think I've ever seen Ms. Karin this upset. I wonder what's going on with her...

"Hi, this is Kami Davis from Channel 7 news," the bubbly voice on the other end of the line says into my ear. "Andy?"

A grin makes its way to my mouth and I slip back into the teacher's lounge, headed for my camera. "Yeah, it's me."

I look at my camera and my grin fades. Dang it!

My camera's little red light shines back at me, letting me know I forgot to hit stop after Mia and I left the room. So I've been wasting my already-low battery, letting it record absolutely nothing.

Great. Good going, Andy.

"I wanted to tell you that I got your email yesterday," Kami says, "and my God, Andy! Thank you so much for that tip about Unseen."

I move behind my camera and hit stop as I reply, "Good. You know I'm always happy to help. And there's a way you could help me, if you want to return the favor. I'm still looking for a part-time gig in the newsroom. I could be the assistant to the assistant to one of the reporters. Or I could help the floor crew during the evening news, I could work one of the cameras. Come on, you know you want to hire me, Kami."

"Like I said the twelve hundred other times you've begged me for a job," she says with a laugh, "you're too young for us to hire, but you can definitely come shadow me or my sister anytime. Listen, I've got to go, but I just wanted to thank you. And if you find anything else, give me a holler, okay?"

"Sure." I hit rewind on my camera. "Later, Kami."

"Bye, kid."

I roll my eyes. Everyone calls me "kid." Whatever. I guess I should be glad that someone like Kami acknowledges me at all. Besides, one day when I'm famous Kami will laugh about having the audacity to call The Andy Moretti "kid."

I slip my phone back into my pocket and watch the footage as it rewinds. Ms. Karin appears on screen. She's frowning as she holds her phone and a funny-looking black gadget that looks like a tire gauge.

As I watch her frown deepen, I wonder what's making her look so worried. Whatever her phone call was about, it must have been really bad.

Unable to squash my curiosity, I hit pause.

If I watch this video, would that be an invasion of Ms. Karin's privacy? I bite down on my bottom lip, thinking. Well, of course, if it's recorded a super personal phone call, then I won't listen. But I just want to see...

I press play.

"No!" Ms. Karin hisses into her cell phone. She slips the black tire gauge thing back into her pocket and says, "I think one of their agents is tracking me. I have a feeling they know. And if I'm right, that means it won't be long before they've revealed my identity, my real name, and the truth about my--"

The image on screen dissolves and a little flashing battery sign appears in its place before my camera dies entirely.

I stare at the camera, my mouth bone dry. What? Her real name...one of their agents tracking her?

My head ripe with questions, I take off my glasses and continue to stare at my camera in disbelief.

For the past few days, I've had the word "agent" in my head because it's all over Tessa Lyles' diary...

I slip my glasses back on, cross my arms, and begin to pace the room.

... Tessa wrote that she was being held captive by I.T.I.S. agents--that's exactly what she called them. Agents. Ms. Karin just used the very same word to describe a person who she believes is "tracking" her.

I stop walking, all at once frozen in fear.

Uncle Tim told me the head of I.T.I.S., Dr. Jayne Mire, might have been holding her captives right here in town at Serenity Bayous.

What if Ms. Karin has some kind of connection to I.T.I.S.?

No. No way, that can't be possible. My imagination's getting the best of me. Ms. Karin is just a drama teacher - how could she have any connection to a memory-erasing and child-kidnapping organization like I.T.I.S.?

My thoughts revert to the odd ring on Ms. Karin's finger - the ring that happens to look exactly like the one Tessa described in her diary. And the accent...that weird, non-Louisianan southern drawl that creeps into her tone when she's nervous. That's the way people from Alabama talk. Tessa Lyles was from Alabama... what if Ms. Karin is Tessa Lyles? Holy Herzog, is that possible? Or, is my imagination getting the best of me?

My heart pounds in my chest and I take a deep breath, willing it to slow down.

"Hey."

Mia's voice nearly scares me into a fright-induced coma and I turn around to find her in the doorway. "My chips got stuck in the vending machine; come help me get them out."

Without waiting for me to respond, she walks away.

I glance back at my camera.

I need to hear Ms. Karin's entire conversation to figure out what's going on. Maybe on our way back from the vending machines, I can stop by the photo lab and grab my battery charger.

"Come on," Mia calls from the hallway.

"Don't yell at me," I shout back and, despite myself, head to the door as I silently tell myself to calm down.

Ms. Karin can't be Tessa Lyles. That's insane. And there's no way she's connected to I.T.I.S. She must have been talking about an insurance agent or a real estate agent...I don't know.

Jogging to catch up with Mia, I call out, "How is it that you're the only person in the entire school who loses her chips in the vending machine every--"

Ms. Karin comes around the corner, her pace brisk as she heads to the teacher's lounge. I stop jogging, talking, breathing, and proceed to internally freak all the way out. Our eyes meet; hers dark and knowing as they bore into mine. My hair stands on end. The second Ms. Karin looks away, I'm consumed by one horrible fact- she knows what I'm thinking.

I can't explain the whys or how's, but I can just feel it somehow- Ms. Karin knows what I saw and heard on that tape in the teacher's lounge.

My head spinning, I turn around and start after Ms. Karin.

"It's not just me, Andy. Kyle has the same problem." Mia grabs my arm with surprising strength, stopping me in my tracks. "Hey, where are you going? I need you to help me."

Just a few feet ahead, I see Ms. Karin enter the teachers' lounge. I struggle to get out of Mia's grasp. "Let go, Mia. I'll be right back!"

Finally escaping the cheerleader's death grip, I run down the hall towards the lounge.

I have no idea what I'll say to Ms. Karin, but I'll figure something out once I catch up to her.

I push open the door, enter the tiny room and look around in confusion. It's unoccupied. I see my little red camera on the tripod, the dirty refrigerator, the tables, the chairs, but no Ms. Karin.

How is she not in here? I saw her walk in here less than five seconds ago!

Baffled, I head to my camera, remove it from the tripod and slide open its SD card container. It's empty. The SD card is gone.

My breath catches in my throat.

Ms. Karin stole my SD card and then she literally disappeared.

The door swings open and I spin around. Mia stands in the doorway, frowning at me. "What are you doing, Andy? You're acting really weird."

"I'm always weird," I say, silently adding, and I only get weirder when I realize that my favorite teacher has some kind of connection to I.T.I.S.

#

#

# _Love is too complicated_

You know what's weird? Finding yourself sitting in your estranged father's office when it's been, like, a year since you've even set foot in his building. Well... actually me and my dad aren't technically estranged. It's not like my life is a complete soap opera. It's more like a badly written CW show. Basically, I've just been avoiding my dad since he left us. But now here I am, all of a sudden back in the office I used to love to visit when I was a kid.

I look around. His office walls are still the same eggshell color they were last year and his framed degrees and official doctorly crap are still on the wall behind the large oak desk Mom helped him pick out a million years ago- but the place feels different.

I guess that's because a few things have changed. For example, at the right side of his desk, where there used to be a framed picture of him and Mom in front of the Eiffel tower, there's now a photo of me and Van. Van's in his cap and gown; it was his high school graduation. I'm beside him, my arm slung around his shoulders as I cheese like a huge geek. But on the upside, I'm wearing a killer black dress and, despite my shark smile, I look pretty cute. Beside this photo is a much smaller framed picture of Dad and Crystal kissing in front of a gorgeous waterfall. Though this photo clearly displays the new silver hair at Dad's temples, he somehow looks younger than he used to. I wonder if Mom's noticed the photo. I bet she has. She's an interior decorator, she notices everything.

I turn to Mom. At the moment she's screaming at my dad, so her mouth is wide open and her face is bright red. It's not a good look for her.

"This is learned behavior, Quy--learned," she shouts. "Where do you think our daughter learned how to sneak around behind my back?"

I sigh and push my hair out of my face. The sigh must be louder than I realize because Dad glances at me. He assesses me for a few seconds and then returns his attention to his screaming ex-wife.

I follow his gaze to Mom. She's perched on the edge of her chair, like she's going to stand at any moment, and her eyes are wide with a sort of pleading look in them while she continues to shout.

"It's not just that Via disobeyed me; it's that your mistress helped her!"

I don't get why Mom looks like she's begging Dad for something. She's yelling at him. Doesn't that in itself imply that she's angry? And angry people don't beg...unless, maybe she's not really angry.

I watch her, mystified.

Maybe she looks like she's pleading because she actually does want something from Dad. But what could Mom possibly want from the ex-husband who she claims to hate?

I roll my eyes.

You know what? Whatever. Lein Nguyen is too crazy-complicated to understand.

I turn away from my mother and watch Dad cross his arms. He sighs and closes his eyes as he holds up a hand- a gesture indicating that he'd finally like to say something.

It's about time. He's let Mom rant for, like, five straight minutes.

"Lien," Dad says, opening his eyes. "As I've already said, I wasn't aware of any of this. You didn't even tell me you were sending Via to Connecticut."

I watch Dad carefully. He's so freaking calm. He was never this calm with Mom when Van and I were kids; she hardly had to say anything to get him all riled up. I wonder why he's so different now.

"I would've told you if I'd known I could trust you!" Mom shouts. "How am I supposed to trust you with anything anymore?" Her hands are balled into fists and her eyes are turning red.

"I know you're angry with me, as you should be," Dad says. "But this isn't about me. It's about our daughter."

He looks Mom in the eye, and he isn't frowning, so I know he isn't angry. But there's something else in Dad's expression that I've never seen before now.

He brings his hands together, folding them as he rests them on top of his desk. "Should we ask Via to step out while we--"

"No." Mom shakes her head and straightens her spine while she sniffs and... and blinks back tears? Oh my God, is my mom seriously about to cry?

As Mom smooths the tips of her fingers under her eyes, I'm punched in the brain with a realization.

Understanding sinking down on me, I return my attention to Dad to make sure I'm really seeing what I think I'm seeing.

Yes, I'm right... my dad is looking at my mom with pity.

He feels sorry for her.

Mom's nostrils flare while she pulls herself together and tries not to look as desperate as she must feel.

Chills run down my arms while I watch her look at Dad with the same desperate hunger I feel when I look at Heath... I take a deep breath.

Whoa, I definitely get it now. I understand the dynamics between my parents.

My mom is still in love with my dad and he just feels sorry for her.

It's so obvious. How did I not notice this before?

"No, Quy," Mom says, her bottom lip trembling. "What I'd like to ask is that you tell your whore not to interfere in my daughter's life."

I bristle at the sound of the disgusting word I hear whispered behind my back on the daily. That word is basically an audible shadow that follows me through SLH's hallways. It makes me sick.

Dad rises to his feet, his face rigid. "Lien, that's enough."

"It's what she is," Mom retorts.

I stand. "Mom, this is my fault," I say. "Not Crystal's."

Mom gets to her feet. "Via-"

"You can't blame Crystal for my mistake." I look Mom in the eye and say, "And if you still love Dad, why don't you just tell him instead of using me to get under his skin?"

"Via!" Mom's eyes widen and her face turns crawfish red.

I lift my hands in surrender. "You two can talk about what you want to do with me and I'm going to wait in the hallway."

I turn on my heel and practically run for the door.

"Via," Dad calls after me.

Ignoring him, I step out of the room and close the door behind me. I take a deep breath and glance down the hallway just as one of Dad's nurses quickly darts into a nearby doorway.

Great, everyone in the building probably heard them screaming. That's fantastic.

I lean against the wall next to his door, take a deep breath, and try to collect my thoughts. At least I don't hear them shouting at each other anymore, that's a good sign.

I need to talk to Heath.

I grab my phone and stare down it, utterly frozen as my finger hovers over the call button. My thoughts return to the desperate look on Mom's face while she yelled at Dad.

Is that how I look at Heath? Am I that desperate?

Dad's obviously happier with Crystal. But it's like Mom doesn't want to see that. She's so hung up on her own feelings that she refuses to see his.

I don't want to be like that. I don't want to waste time pining for someone who's happier without me.

I groan.

Oh, my God- is that what's been happening with me and Heath?!

I lean against the wall and slide down until my butt hits the floor. I really do love Heath. That's why I couldn't let him break up with me. And Mom probably really does love Dad too. And that's exactly why she should let him go... she should love him enough to just let him be happy.

Should I do the same thing? Should I let Heath go? What am I supposed to do?

Sighing, I hit myself in the forehead with my phone a few times as if this will smack a solution directly into my brain. My God, love is too complicated.

Crystal says I need to face my problems, but what's the problem?

Is it me - am I the problem? And if it is me, then how do I face myself? I am myself. That makes no sense.

My phone rings. Startled, I jump at the noise and glance down at it.

I don't recognize the number. "Hello?" I answer.

"Is this Via?" a woman's voice asks.

"Yeah."

"Oh, okay. Well, this is Cara, your, um, your Aunt. From Connecticut."

"Oh, yeah." I cringe. "Aunt Cara, I'm so sorry about not showing. I hope you weren't waiting at the airport."

She actually laughs. "Don't worry about it. You're entitled to not show up if you don't want to."

"Really? Because my mother certainly doesn't seem to think so."

"Yeah. When I called your mom she was pretty peeved," Cara agrees. "That's why I wanted to check in and make sure everything's all right. She'd given me your number just in case and since I couldn't reach her, I...I...I thought I'd call you."

Why does she sound so nervous?

"Thanks for checking. Everything's fine."

Just then, I hear Mom shout, "Listen, Quy, just listen!" from behind Dad's closed door.

Sighing, I continue, "Well, everything's fine in that my plane didn't crash or get hijacked by terrorists or whatever. I'm here in Louisiana with my parents."

"Oh. Well," Aunt Cara pauses and I trace a heart on the floor's beige linoleum. "I want you to know that if you ever want to come visit, the invitation still stands. You're more than welcomed."

I chuckle. "That's nice of you. Thank you. But, according to some people, I'm always running away from things so, you know, maybe I should try sticking around and facing...things." As I'm speaking, it occurs to me that just like Mom is blinded by her emotions and can't see how crazy she's acting, so am I.

I'm the problem and I can't face myself when I'm distracted with Heath or while everyone at school is pointing at me and calling me a skank-whore.

"That sounds familiar," Aunt Cara says, a smile in her voice. "I was just talking to a friend of mine about that yesterday. I used to be a pro at running away from things."

"Aunt Cara?"

"Yeah?"

"What if I actually do come stay with you for a few weeks?" The words crash into each other as they tumble out of my mouth. "I know I just said I probably couldn't come, so it's weird to suddenly change my mind. But I really think it would be good for me to... to get away from here. So, are you sure that would be okay with you?"

There's silence from her end of the phone and I hold my breath.

I don't know if I'm making the right decision. But then I never know what I'm doing, all I know is what I feel. And right now, I feel like Crystal is right- I need to face my problems. That means I need to face myself- and to do that, I need some time alone.

"Of course, Via," Aunt Cara finally says. "I'd be delighted to have you here. But only if Lien says it's all right."

I let out the breath I've been holding. "Thank you so much, Aunt Cara. And I'm sure I can talk my mom into it."

Hopefully, getting out of Swamp Rose for a while will give me exactly what I need-- the time and space to face myself without any distractions

#

#

# _Suspicion_

I've been to Ms. Karin's house a gazillion times. She holds a lot of cold readings and rehearsals here, so this place has become a sort of second home to a lot of us. But at the moment, as Ms. Karin passes me a can of Sprite and asks me if I, like the four other kids in her kitchen, would like a sandwich, I can't help but glare at her suspiciously, a creepy feeling slithering up and down my arms.

This soft-spoken and seemingly nice drama teacher could have some sort of attachment to an organization that kidnaps children. Or she could be Tessa Lyles herself - a psychotic, genetically-engineered mutant who can fly and shoot fire from her fingertips. Frankly, I'm not prepared to deal with either of those possibilities.

I watch Ms. Karin's dark eyes to see if they betray any of the coldness I noticed earlier when we passed each other in the hallway outside of the Teacher's Lounge.

I swear to God, in that moment, when Ms. Karin looked at me, it was like she somehow knew I wanted to hear the rest of her recorded conversation.

But now, her eyes betray nothing. She just tilts her head, watching me with friendly interest.

I do my best to return her smile. "No, thanks. But do you mind if I use your bathroom?"

"Lanie's in the bathroom," Ran says as he opens Ms. Karin's refrigerator.

The second Lanie's name leaves Ran's lips, Mia, who's sitting beside me at Ms. Karin's kitchen table, sighs loudly and shoots daggers at her boyfriend.

I think it's safe to say that Mia isn't Lanie's biggest fan.

"Randall Hawke, get out of my refrigerator," Ms. Karin orders. "I'm making the sandwiches, not you."

"I can help," he says, pulling out a large jar of mayonnaise and setting it on the counter. "What do you want? Peanut butter and mayonnaise, or--"

"Dude, I don't want your hands on my food," Josh Phillips says, tossing his empty soda can in Ms. Karin's trash. "You're dating Mia; we all know where your hands have been."

"Josh," Ms. Karin hisses, "you're already on thin ice. And, Ran, get out of my refrigerator. You are not making the sandwiches! In fact, everyone just go to the den and look over your scripts until I'm done with the snacks."

In the distance, the bathroom door creaks open and Ran shuts the refrigerator, immediately turning an expectant gaze to the doorway at my right- watching for Lanie.

I shake my head. Ran's crush on Lanie is so obvious that it's literally insane for Mia to keep going out with him. Every time Ran looks at Lanie, you can basically see giant cartoon hearts in his eyes.

"Everybody, den now!" Ms. Karin orders, clapping her hands. "Read over your scripts and I'll be out there in a few minutes."

"We're going," Josh says as he scoots around Ran and pats the top of my head like I'm a small dog. I shoot Josh a dirty look and attempt to push my curls back into some semblance of order. He snickers and moves on to Lanie, who's just come from the bathroom. Josh slings one of his long arms around her waist and leans close to her ear. "Hey, leading lady."

Lanie turns apple red and I glance at Ran, wondering if he's seeing this.

He definitely is. His eyes are narrowed and his fists are clenched.

I bite back a grin, wondering if I could get away with filming this and putting it on my YouTube channel. I could use it in a vlog post about secret crushes or something.

"Josh, leave Lanie alone," Ms. Karin orders. "You're her love interest in the play, not in reality."

I glance at Ms. Karin as she stands behind her counter, starting on our sandwiches. She reaches up, opening one of her cabinets.

Does she really care about Lanie, or is everything she says just a front? My thoughts return to my suspicions about her identity. If Ms. Karin isn't Tessa Lyles, then why does she have a ring exactly like the one Tessa described in her diary? And why is she on the run from "agents?"

As I'm thinking this, Ms. Karin catches my eye and I nearly jump out of my skin. I try to play off my nerves by stammering, "Uh... is it okay if I use your bathroom now?"

"Of course." She nods. "You know where it is."

While everyone else heads to the den, I make my way to the bathroom.

I EXIT THE bathroom and the sounds of laughter and talking drift my way from the den. Josh's baritone voice and Mia's high-pitched laughter are the loudest.

I start toward the den and pause mid-stride as I catch sight of Ms. Karin's room just to my left. Her door is ajar.

If Ms. Karin has anything to hide, her bedroom should contain at least some evidence of her secret. I take a steadying deep breath.

I'll make it fast, just one quick sweep of the room, and then I'll get out.

My heart racing, I step into Ms. Karin's room and gently close the door behind me. I take in the sight of her king-sized bed with its burgundy bedspread and pillows. Matching burgundy curtains hang on the window to my right, and against the opposite wall is a credenza on which a large old-fashioned television sits.

Nothing immediately weird here--boring, maybe--but not weird. But that's to be expected, anything important will most likely be stashed away in a drawer or in her closet, which is just ahead.

I throw open the closet door, find the light switch, and as soon as I've flipped it see that I'm surrounded by tons of unfashionable dark clothing.

Well, no shockers here.

To my left is a small dresser and beside it, a safe that is, unfortunately, locked.

Sighing, I turn to the dresser at my left and begin opening its drawers.

Ew... I make a face at the sight of Ms. Karin's underwear and quickly close this drawer, moving on to the next.

Why Ms. Karin has so much underwear is beyond me. I close the second drawer, which is also full of underwear. But as I close it, a dainty tinkling sound at the bottom of the drawer grabs my attention. It sounds like I've jostled a set of keys.

I reopen the drawer and, cringing, stick my hand underneath the neat piles of panties. My heart nearly stops as I wrap my fingers around a set of small keys.

These could be for the safe!

My pulse thundering in my ears, I grab the keys and move to the safe. I try the first key, but it doesn't work. My hands shaking, I move on to the next key and the safe opens.

"Here goes nothing," I whisper as I open the safe.

At the sight of its contents, my heart slides down to my stomach.

Holy Hitchcock.

I'm looking at a taser, two handguns, several pieces of jewelry, a few black and silver gadgets that look like they came from a James Bond movie, and a ton of old newspaper articles, yellowed with age, that have been clipped and saved, some of them laminated.

I bite down on my bottom lip, frowning at the handguns and spy-like gadgets. Why would a quiet drama teacher have this kind of gear?

I grab one of the newspaper clippings and read the headline.

Peake Times News archived article: Peake's Mysterious Superhero "Unseen"...A Myth or a Person?

This is the exact same article I found online.

I put it back and grab another yellowed article from the safe. This one is entitled: "Peake, Alabama: Tourist Heaven?"

My heart racing, I impatiently seize the third article and read its title: "Peake, Alabama: The Best Place in the South."

I rifle through all of the old newspaper clippings, scanning their headlines, and quickly see that every last one of them is about Peake.

I put the articles back, my movements shaky and my head spinning. If I were Tessa Lyles, would I collect articles about my former hometown? Probably...I guess. Well, actually, no I wouldn't. I'd just go back to Peake and deal with any unfinished business there.

I bite down on my bottom lip, thinking hard.

So, if Ms. Karin is Tessa Lyles, then why does she have all these articles? It's like she's been researching Peake. Maybe she's not Tessa...

Frustrated, I shake my head and roll my eyes. The more I research the Tessa Lyles Project, the more confusing it becomes.

In any case, I need to get out of here before it becomes obvious that I've "been in the bathroom" too long.

I return the contents of the safe and its keys to their original positions and hurry out of Ms. Karin's closet, my thoughts still teeming with questions. My main question is: Is Ms. Karin Tessa Lyles or does she have some other kind of connection to I.T.I.S.?

The only thing I know for sure is that I need more answers.

I ENTER MS. Karin's den to find Mia, perched on Ran's lap. She holds her script and mumbles her lines while she leans against his broad chest. Ran pats the top of Mia's head and looks up at me, an eyebrow arched. "You fall in?"

I slide onto the couch beside them. "Yep, and then I got lost in the sewers."

"Sweet. You see the Penguin down there?" he asks with a smile.

"What?" I frown. "Why would I see a penguin in the sewers?"

"He's talking about a villain from the Batman series," Lanie pipes up from the recliner to our left. I turn to her and she blushes. "The, uh...the Penguin." Lanie cringes like she wishes she hadn't said anything and returns her attention to her script.

"Oh." I watch her script shake as she grips it so tightly that it looks like she's going to rip the thing. She stares down at it, pretending to read and not be horribly nervous simply from having said one whole sentence to a room of four people.

The poor girl is so shy it's a miracle she's a good actress. It's also a miracle that she's still acting after the way I made her cry last semester.

It was pretty traumatic for both of us.

Ms. Karin let me assistant direct a play Lanie was starring in and even though Lanie was good, her voice was way too soft; she needed to project like a million times louder. All I did was give her some suggestions and she got all shaky and that's when the tears started.

I felt terrible and, to make it worse, for the next few days Ran kept glaring at me like he wanted to kill me. Come to think of it, that's also when Mia started being super nice to me and agreed to get her friends together for the filming of AniMalls...

Sighing, grab my book bag and root around for my script. While I'm searching for it, I come across the little red camera Dad gave me a few years ago. I pull it out and check to see how much battery life it has left.

"All right, guys, I've got sandwiches and chips," Ms. Karin calls from the kitchen.

"Andy," Mia says and I look up. "Since you have your camera, you should totally record us during the cold reading. You could use the footage for AniMalls."

"Sure." I look down at my camera and an idea lights up my brain.

I grin. That's right... I have a camera, meaning if I want to find out who Ms. Karin really is, I can. All I have to do is set my camera up somewhere in her house and do the same thing I did in the Teacher's Lounge. But this time, I'll record her conversations on purpose.

I chuckle, pleased with myself.

Ran glances at me with an arched eyebrow. "Is that evil laughter?"

I shrug. "I wouldn't call it evil, per se ..."

... I'd call it the laughter of a genius who's just had a great idea!

#

#

# _Via + Heath 4ever...?_

After zipping Godzilla-the-suitcase shut, I plop down on my bed with my phone.

Apparently, Heath's had nothing to do but text me since six this morning.

6:03 AM-

Heath: V, I'm sorry, I shouldn't hv let that happen I wana talk 2 u.

6:57 AM-

Heath: call me please

8:23 AM-

Heath: It wasn't rely even my fault, u started it u can't b mad at me

8:34 AM-

Heath: nut that im sayin its ur fault its both us fault, im sorry. I love u don't shut me out

10:00 AM-

Heath: V call me please

1:03 PM-

Heath: WHERE ARE YOU

Oh. My. God. Really? If Gia were here, she'd roll her eyes and say, "Needy much?"

And then I'd probably get mad at her for saying that because- I don't know, I guess I like it when Heath needs me. And that's part of my problem- that's exactly why I need time alone.

I grab a strand of my hair and twirl it around my finger. With this, I hit "Call Heath" and he picks up on the first ring.

"Where are you?" he demands.

"If you're going to yell at me, I'm hanging up."

"No wait, don't hang up...please...Via?"

"Yeah? What?"

"I'm really sorry," Heath says. "I shouldn't have let you do that. I knew the cameras were there, but when everything happened so fast. I stopped thinking and I forgot, I'm sorry."

Softening, I release the strand of hair I've been twirling. "Well, it was my fault too."

"Let me make it up to you. You at home?"

"Yeah, but-"

"Don't go anywhere. Don't even move. I'll be there in three minutes."

"Wait, Heath, no. I'm leaving," I blurt. "I'm going to Connecticut for a while."

He says nothing, but since he's a mouth-breather, I know he's still there.

"Heath, say something."

"You're joking, right?" he finally says, his voice low.

"No. I have an Aunt in Connecticut and my mom decided I need to kind of, like, live with her for a little bit. And I think maybe Mom's right. Maybe it'll be good for me."

"So, you're not going to be here for what...? Two weeks?" he asks.

"Four. And I'm leaving tomorrow," I slowly reply.

I wonder how he's taking this. It's difficult to tell by his tone.

"I don't..." Heath's voice is low and muffled. "Um, I don't know what to say."

My gaze drifts to the black and white photo of us from last year's Prom. Heath knew exactly what to say back then, he didn't even have to think about it, the words just came from his heart and landed in mine.

Now, he sounds detached. The way Dad is with Mom... what if we're just like them? What if Heath pities me the way Dad pities Mom?

I take a deep breath.

"Actually, you don't need to say anything. Since I'll be gone for a while, maybe the best thing for us to do is take a break and see what happens when I get back. So," my throat tightens, but I force myself to finish my sentence, "so, actually, I guess you can just say, goodbye."

"No," Heath speaks quickly. "We're not breaking up just because you're leaving for four weeks. That's retarded."

My eyes fill as relief washes over me. "Then how come the other day, you said you wanted to break up?"

"I wasn't thinking!" he exclaims. "I couldn't think clearly, I was mad. But I can think more clear now. Okay? I shouldn't have accused you of nothing. Okay? You're not going to cheat on me, I know that now. You love me, I love you. It's that simple. So, let's just be together."

I close my eyes, tears sliding down my cheek.

That's what I've been waiting to hear him to say.

But, it's not what I need. It's the fourth piece of toffee that looks really good, so good it makes my mouth water, but I know I shouldn't eat it because I've already had three pieces. I should save the fourth for later, for when it won't make me sick.

"Heath, I do love you. But, right now I think we should just be friends and not the other, complicated stuff." My voice wavers and I pause to pull myself together. "Right now, I just need a friend. Okay?"

"If that's what you want, then why are you crying?" he demands.

"Because this is hard! I don't want to break up with you," I exclaim. "But I have to! Doesn't it bother you to be with someone who doesn't even know who she is?"

"What do you mean?" he asks.

I grab another strand of my hair and wrap it around my finger. By the end of this conversation my hair is going to be a knotted mess. I wish I had a different way of venting my anxiety.

"It's like I'm just living in this body," I blurt, "with no idea of who I am or what I want. I think that's why I like feeling things, because every time I feel something that's the real me, peeking out from everyone's expectations and perceptions of who I'm supposed to be. That's the real me and I need to see more of her so I can understand her. And that's why I'm addicted to you, because you make me feel things. You bring me to the surface. But, I want to love you for you, not just because of the way you make me feel. That's why I need to take a break and just, like, learn about myself."

Heat flushes my cheeks. Oh my God. What all did I even just say?

"V," Heath mumbles. "I'm coming over."

"Wait, no, I need to talk to Gia and tell her I'm leaving, so-"

"Whatever, talk to Gia, I don't care. But, I need to talk to you," he snaps, and with this, he hangs up.

I stare down at my phone.

What just happened?

At the sound of a knock on my door, I wipe my tears and shout, "Come in."

Mom opens my door and carefully enters my room, a nervous look on her face. She leans against the wall, right next to a large, framed picture of me and Gia posing with ice cream cones. It's my favorite picture of us. We've got ice-cream all over our faces; Gia, because she had a little break-down and smeared ice cream all over her face. Me, because I wanted to make Gia feel better...it's a long story.

"I want to apologize." Mom clasps her hands together and looks at me solemnly.

I blink back at her, wondering if I've misheard.

My mother isn't the type to apologize. She didn't apologize when I was thirteen and she accidently rolled up the car window while I had my head stuck out of it or when I was seven and she accidently backed over the new bike Dad bought me.

I frown. "Why?"

"A child should feel loved and I haven't been consistent in promoting that feeling. I apologize." Her voice is stilted as she holds my gaze.

"Mom, it's fine," I reply, pulling my feet up under me to get more comfortable on my bed. "I know you love me, I just kind of wish you'd be more honest." I glance at her, wondering if she's going to blow up and scream at me.

Her eyes widen. "What do you mean by that?"

"You still love Dad, but you try to act like you don't. And you didn't try to send me to Connecticut just because you thought it would help. You were sick of me embarrassing you. That's the truth and you could've just said that."

She looks at me expectantly, like she's waiting for me to say more.

I hold her gaze, steeling myself for her anger. But it doesn't surface. Instead, Mom's eyes soften and she speaks quietly, "My relationship with your father isn't your business..."

As her voice trails off, I say, "Of course it is, you're my parents."

Mom glances down and brings her hand to her forehead, like she has a headache. "Via-"

"Mom," I cut in. "I'm right and you know it; it is my business."

She drops her hands to her side, as if defeated, and moves to my bed. Surprised, I watch her sit beside me.

"Whether or not I love your father isn't something you need to know." Mom looks me in the eye and says, "The only thing you need to know is that we both love you. And, Via, I didn't want you to stay with Cara because you embarrass me. I wanted you to get out of this town, to meet my sister, and... and to learn about yourself."

"Really?" I search her eyes for honesty.

Mom takes my hand and squeezes it gently. "Yes and..." She looks down at our hands.

"And what?" I ask.

She takes a deep breath and looks up. "I need you to know how much I love you, how much I've always loved you."

My eyes fill. "I know."

Why is it that when I'm about to leave, everyone's suddenly telling me what I've longed to hear? Even so, I'm crying and my heart is melting. Mom grabs me in a hug and the crying and melting of my heart only grow worse because now she's hugging me?! Seriously? My mother is not a hugger. I'm beginning to question whether or not I'm in the middle of a dream.

She releases me and I grin as I say, "Whoa. That never happens."

Mom's face falls. "I know, unfortunately."

Our doorbell rings and my phone simultaneously begins blasting Heath's ringtone. I slowly back away from Mom as she wonders out loud, "Who could that be?"

"Since you're in a great mood, I hope you won't be rampagy about Heath coming over to tell me goodbye," I say, praying she doesn't explode and ruin the great mother-daughter moment we're having.

Mom sighs as she stands. "He can't stay for more than a half an hour and don't close the door to your room."

I can't help but arch an eyebrow at that one. "Uh, considering what me and Heath got caught doing yesterday, don't you think it's a little late to start worrying about-"

"It's never too late for anything, Via. I'll get the door."

Heavy footsteps bound up the stairs and Mom freezes in her tracks.

"The door was unlocked!" Heath shouts from the hallway, his footsteps getting closer.

I cross my arms as he rounds the corner into my room and nearly runs into Mom.

"Heath, you should have waited for us to answer the door," Mom says through clenched teeth.

I slide between the two of them and grab Heath's hand. "Actually, he was going to bring me to Gia's house because I wanted to tell her goodbye, so...let's go Heath."

He frowns at me but turns back to Mom and says, "See you later, Ms. Nguyen."

Mom's eyes are icepicks as she says not a word. But at least she's not yelling or, like, murdering him. So, that's a good start.

I slide into my nearest pair of flip-flops, grab my purse, and pull Heath out of my room.

"We need to talk," he says as I fly into the hallway and down the stairs.

"Let's just go," I whisper, hurrying forward.

"Wait." He yanks me back and I shriek as I trip backwards. Heath grabs me around my waist to stop me from falling and pulls me close, his eyes going to my lips.

Butterflies fill my stomach and I put my hands on his chest.

Do I want to kiss him? Yes. But I also don't want him to think I take back what I said about us taking a break. To kiss him now would totally nix that.

His blue eyes are fixed on mine and... oh, screw it.

I lean towards him, bring my mouth to his and goose bumps shimmy down my spine as we lock lips.

Under my right palm, I feel his heartbeat quicken and his hands, matching the insistence of his kiss, slide down to my butt. I close my eyes, relishing the minty taste of his mouth and ignoring the Gia-like voice of reason in the back of my mind, whispering, 'You should stop. Heath won't take your 'we need a break speech seriously' and your Mom is just a few feet away.'

Heath drops his hands and sighing, backs out of the kiss.

Confused, I open my eyes. Since when is Heath the one to end a kiss?

"We're not breaking up," he says, his voice low. "Okay?"

"Via? Was that you? Is everything okay?" Mom calls from above.

"Yeah," I shout. "I just tripped on the stairs, I'm fine."

"Okay?" Heath repeats, his eyes boring into mine.

He looks as desperate as I feel.

I rake both of my hands through my hair. "Heath, I am so confused right now."

"Why?" He shakes his head. "I love you, you love me. What's confusing?"

I put my palm against his chest and push him. "Sit down."

He does as told, lowering himself to the bottom step. I sit beside him.

"Do you like hanging out with me or making out with me?" I ask.

Heath doesn't blink. "Both. Why?"

"Tell me why you like hanging out with me."

He frowns, looking as stumped as he did that one time Gia tried to help him with his Physics homework.

This clenches it. He knows me just as well as I know myself, meaning he's clueless. I turn away from Heath and start to tell him this. He takes my hand, I look into his eyes and my heart trips all over itself as he speaks before I can even open my mouth, "I like hanging out with you because you're funny and you think I'm funny, most girls don't."

"That's because your jokes come across as sexist," I whisper. "But I get what you mean."

"See?" He smiles. "You understand me. And I like watching you talk..." Reaching over with his free hand, he takes a few strands of my hair. "Because you're cute when you mess with your hair while you're talking. Most times I don't even know what you're saying, I just like watching you."

I laugh and then sigh because this is making everything even more confusing.

"And you're smart," he says, letting go of my hair.

I arch an eyebrow. "Now I know you're just saying whatever pops into your head."

"No, you're smarter than me." He squeezes my hand and says, "You're always pointing out constellations to me, you understand that trapezoid crap, and you get better grades than me."

"That's because I occasionally do my homework." I take a deep breath. "Listen, Heath, the last thing I want to do is hurt you, but I really think we should-"

He kisses me and whispers, "No," his breath warm against my ear.

I give his hand a squeeze. "If you want a girlfriend who's confident and knows herself, then you have to let me go for a little while."

His face falls, but his eyes remain stubborn. "I want you exactly the way you are."

I take Heath's face in my palms, making him look directly at me as I say, "Listen to me carefully. For the next four weeks, you don't have a girlfriend. You and me are friends. That means I won't get mad at you for doing whatever you want. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

He stares at me blankly. "What?"

Oh for the love of God, I guess I have to spell it out...

"You know how you like Drew Everett?"

He reddens. "I don't like Drew Everett. Why would you say that?"

I ignore the twinge of jealousy that flares in my stomach, pat his cheek, and make myself smile at his little lie. "It's okay, Heath, she's yours. For four weeks, do whatever you want with Drew and when I come back, we'll go back to just us, no cheating."

Heath's eyes widen and apparently, he's unable to speak.

I start to stand, but he pulls me back.

"Just stay," he says, searching my eyes. "I don't want Drew and you don't need to go to Connecticut. Tell your parents you want to stay."

It would be so easy to agree with him, and a part of me wants to.

"Heath, I love you. But, I need this," I say. "And if you care about me at all, you'll want this for me too."

He glances down and I hold my breath as silence passes between us.

Finally, he speaks so softy that I can barely hear him, "I guess I want whatever you want."

"Thank you."

He looks up and says, "But I still don't want to break up."

"Heath, I don't want to break up with you!" I exclaim, "I want a break, for four weeks."

He narrows his eyes. "While we're on our "break," are you going to be with other guys?"

You know that feeling of wanting to kiss someone and then punch them in the face? Well, that's happening to me right now.

I release Heath's hand and stand. "Are you going to bring me to Gia's or not?"

I head to the door and his footsteps hurry behind me as he says, "V, you didn't answer me!"

I spin around and hiss, "I shouldn't have to! When I say 'I need some time alone,' how does that translate to 'I need to find some guys to be with'?"

He tilts his head questioningly. "So, that's a no?"

"Oh my God, of course it's a no," I shout. "I don't want to be with anyone but you! Would you please just get your keys so we can go?"

He grins and exhales in obvious relief. "Okay," he says, reaching for his keys. "That's all I needed to hear."

I watch him saunter to the front door and open it for me.

It's definitely true that you can't choose who you fall for, because God knows, as much as I love Heath, I wouldn't have chosen him for me.

#

#

# _Tutoring a Mean Girl_

Elizabeth sighs, closes her math book, and sets it beside her on our couch.

She looks like she needs some serious sleep.

"You did well," I say, offering her a smile. "I think you'll do well on the test too."

"Hope so," she replies, tugging at the zipper on her jacket.

I can't help but wonder why she's kept her jacket on for the past hour. Our AC's been a little wonky lately, so I know she must be uncomfortably warm.

Her ice blue eyes are on mine as she says, "Listen, I know you're still pissed about yesterday."

"No, I'm not," I quickly reply.

Elizabeth's eyebrows go up and an amused smile forms on her lips.

I blush and glance at our grandfather clock.

"Why," she asks with a chuckle, "do you always do that?"

"Do what?" I paste on a polite smile.

"That," Elizabeth says. "You smile at me when it's obvious you actually want to kill me."

"No, I don't." I shift in my seat.

"You do. Despite that fake smile, I can tell I'm not exactly your favorite person in the world. And..." Elizabeth pauses to take a deep breath. "I feel like I owe you an explanation about yesterday. I didn't lie to you, I really did have to work, I just couldn't tell my friends. That's why I told them I'd hang out at the mall with them, but when we got there, I pretended my mom called and told me to come home. So, I ditched them and went to work."

Our grandfather clock, ticking loudly, fills the silence in our living room as I stare at Elizabeth.

She's wearing ironically crappy jeans, that silly leather jacket, and her blonde hair is pulled back into a ponytail that's held in place by a rubber band.

It dawns on me that maybe her jeans aren't ironically crappy, maybe they're cheap because cheap jeans are the only kind of jeans she can afford.

"Why didn't you just tell your friends you had to work?" I finally ask.

She lowers her gaze to the couch. "They wouldn't get it."

"And I would?" I hesitantly ask. "You never talk to me at school, so why are you telling me this now?"

"Because you smile when you don't want to," she says, her eyes still on the couch. "We have that in common. Plus that, this is a nice house, but it isn't exactly a mansion. I figured you'd understand my... situation."

I ignore her jab at our house because I'm confused as to what she means by, 'because you smile when you don't want to.'

In any case, however, it's obvious that Elizabeth's sad and she doesn't feel like she can confide in her closest friends. That has to suck.

She reaches for her purse and stands. "I'd better go."

I get to my feet and follow her to our back door. On the way there, I glance at one of the pictures on our wall. It's of Mom, me, Via, and Andy. If Via and I had only focused on the things we didn't have in common, we would've never become friends.

"You know," I say, and Elizabeth pauses in stride, turning to me with a sort of relieved look on her face, "my sister and her boyfriend want me to go with them to the movies this weekend and I don't want to be a third wheel, so you want to come?"

Elizabeth's perfectly sculpted eyebrows go up. "Andy has a boyfriend?"

I try very hard to control my facial expression as I nod. "Yeah, she's going out with Rodney Parker." I have to get used to telling people this without allowing myself to appear jealous ... not that I am jealous. I'm simply unnerved by the whole thing.

Elizabeth grins. "Good for her. Rod's cute."

"Yeah," I hurriedly agree. "So, do you think you might want to come?"

"Sure, I'm down."

"Fantastic." I smile and point to my lips. "By the way, this smile isn't fake."

She rolls her eyes and shakes her head. With this, she continues on to the back door and opens it, stepping outside. "See you at school."

I close the door and, from the window, watch Elizabeth back out of our driveway in a clunky old Toyota that she said belongs to her mother. The poor car sounds like it's on its last leg.

I've always known that we all struggle with something- that even popular people like Elizabeth have frustrations. But knowing this is quite different from seeing it with my own eyes.

I guess I never saw Elizabeth as a real person. If I had, I would've noticed that she and I do have at least a couple of things in common.

"Gia," my baby sister calls from her room, "bedtime story!"

"Coming," I shout, heading her way.

GABBY RESTS HER head against my shoulder and I kiss the top of her soft brown curls.

She yawns, her eyes focused on Lula and the book in her hands.

"Good Heaven! What is to become of us! What are we to do! How can you be smiling so, Lizzy?" Lula reads in a loud imitation of a British accent.

Gabby giggles and thrusts her finger in Lula's direction. "The momma's funny."

"She is funny," Lula agrees, breaking character, "but so annoying, I almost don't blame what's- her-face for running away."

"Actually, Lydia's just as bad as her mom," I explain. "They're basically the same person, just different ages."

"The momma die?"

Lula and I both glance at our youngest sister before turning to each other.

Gabby asks this every time we start a new book that has a mother character.

"No Gabs," Lula says, her tone uncharacteristically patient. "The mom doesn't die, she's going to be fine."

Gabby stares at Lula.

"Um." Lula's gaze shifts to mine. "So, I guess I'll keep reading?"

"Let's stop here for tonight," I say, my eyes darting to the time on Lula's laptop. "It's already seven forty-five."

"Okay." Lula closes the book and grins at Gabby. "Tune in tomorrow at bedtime for more adventures with the Bennet family."

"Okay," Gabby carefully replies.

I smile, thinking that when Gabby gets big enough, she's going to look back at this and realize how odd it was to have Jane Austen novels for bedtime stories. But, hopefully, she'll also be at the top of her class and smart enough to feel grateful.

Lula kisses Gabby's right cheek and says, "Night, Gabs."

"What mommy look like?"

Lula freezes.

"It's okay," I whisper to Lula, who glances down at the book in her hands. Patting Gabby's curls, I say, "Mom had straight blond hair and blue eyes."

"Like you?" Gabby asks.

"Yes." I nod. "But she looked almost exactly like Andy."

"Mommy make movies with camera?" Gabby asks.

"No," I answer, remembering Mom sitting outside at her easel, a skinny paintbrush in her hand. That was forever ago. Even before Lula was born. "She liked to paint sometimes."

"Pictures?" Gabby asks.

I steal a peek at Lula. She's still looking down, her eyes narrowed.

"Yes, just like you like to draw pic-"

"Why?" Gabby cuts me off.

I pause, considering her question and trying to come up with an answer that'll shift the conversation away from Mom, for Lula's sake.

"Well," I start, "everyone likes to-"

"Because Mommy liked to make people happy," Lula says. I glance at my twelve-year-old sister as she meets Gabby's eyes and continues, "And when she drew pictures, it made people happy."

"She nice?" Gabby asks.

"Yeah," Lula replies, tracing her thumb along the edge of the book in her lap, "she was the first person who told me I could sing... that was nice."

My throat tightens and I clear my throat, struggling to maintain my composure.

Gabby thrusts her tiny finger in my direction. "What mommy tell you?"

What did Mom tell me?

I take a deep breath and think of my last moments with Mom...rubbing her pronounced belly, she hugged me and whispered, "Take care of things my girl, Gia. I'll see you soon. Love you." With that, a nurse wheeled her away and Andy unexpectedly slipped her hand through mine.

Andy almost never held my hand. That's how I knew she was scared. I turned away from Mom to look at Andy and say, "Don't worry, everything's going to be alright."

"Gia?"

Lula's voice pulls me from the memory and gulping, I reply, "She told me to take care of you all, and I'm glad she said that."

Hearing a sound near our door, I look up to find Dad standing in the doorway, his eyes glistening with tears.

"Daddy!" Gabby exclaims. Lula, likewise, turns to the door, her eyes lighting up.

At this, she says, "Daddy, I need to talk to you this instant!"

He heads to his two biggest fans, and I ease off of Gabby's bed.

Lula's going to start her drama queen thing and I don't need to be around for that.

"Daddy, I need to take dance lessons because-"

"Hold on, hon," Shushing her, he picks Gabby up and she wraps her hands around his neck, nearly choking him as she plants a noisy kiss on his cheek. Dad turns to me. "Gia?"

Lula tugs at his arm, "Hey, Daddy?"

"Yeah?" I ask.

"Thank you." He smiles and repeats himself, "thank you."

His eyes are watering again and I almost feel like crying at the sight.

But I smile instead. "Sure, Dad."

"Now I've got this. Go." With this, he glances down at Lula. "Dance lessons? Why do you need dance lessons, sweetheart?"

"Because it makes people happy and I want to..."

While Lula explains herself, Gabby tugs at Dad's ear, quietly chanting, "I love daddy, I love daddy, I love daddy..."

I pat his shoulder in sympathy, and leave their room. Closing their door behind me, I take a deep breath.

As much as I love my little sisters, I'm glad Dad's home now.

#

#

# _Andy's Revelation_

"Did you notice him looking at her?" Mia asks as we fly past a stop sign.

I'm beginning to rethink asking her to drive me home.

I hold onto the passenger door of Mia's SUV and use my free hand to keep Tessa's diary in place on my lap. "Mia," I say. "That was another stop sign you missed and yeah, I did notice."

"So, it's not just in my head, he does stare at Lanie all the time!" Mia exclaims, hitting her steering wheel.

"Nope, it's not in your head," I agree, lowering my gaze to Tessa's diary.

Dear Diary,

Today Dr. Mire told me she's beyond satisfied with the progress I've made. But as she spoke, her breathing was irregular and her pupils, dilated. She was lying.

I glance up, mulling this over while Mia turns out of Ms. Karin's neighborhood and onto Highland Hills Road.

Tessa wasn't just powerful, she was incredibly smart; it sounds like she could look at someone and know whether or not they were lying.

"Do you think Ran's gay?" Mia suddenly asks.

I turn to her. "No, Mia. I think Ran likes Lanie."

Rolling her eyes, Mia accelerates and I glance at her speedometer.

Eighty.

We're going eighty on a forty-five mph highway.

Great.

Silently preparing for death, I lower my eyes to the diary.

"He barely kisses me," Mia quietly says. "And we've never had sex."

I stifle a sigh. "Why don't you just break up with him, Mia?"

When she doesn't reply, I assume she's lost in her own thoughts and I return my attention to the diary:

She then returned my ring. I don't know why she'd do that. It's as if she's trying to tempt me with a false sense of security. But it won't work. I know the ring's probably been embedded with a tracking device, just in case I run away. Dr. Mire's paranoid about me escaping. That's why she's hidden cameras all over my cell. She thinks I don't notice them in the vase, in the lamp, and in the air vent above my bed.

Further down on the page is a tiny drawing. I bring the diary closer to my eyes, and now I can see that it's a decently executed drawing of a girl with long bangs and a thick headful of disheveled hair. The girl stares down at a ring on her finger. I bring the diary closer and take a good look at the ring. It's startlingly similar to the one Ms. Karin wears. I return my attention to the drawing of the girl. Her eyes are downcast and only part of her face is visible, but the shape of her nose and cheekbones are familiar. I'd know this face anywhere. It's a younger version of Ms. Karin.

I look up, my stomach flip flopping.

Tessa drew a picture of herself in her diary- and it looks exactly like Ms. Karin. For God's sake, how much clearer could this be? Ms. Karin is Tessa Lyles.

I close my eyes, thinking.

How on earth did Amelia Hearth get a hold of this diary? And why is Ms. Karin so obsessed with Peake, Alabama if I.T.I.S. is here in Swamp Rose?

I look down at the diary, skimming the entry I've just read as if its words will trigger something.

... that's why she's hidden cameras all over my cell. She thinks I don't notice them in the vase, in the lamp, and in the air vent above my bed...

I cringe.

Oh, crap. If Tessa Lyles was smart enough to detect Dr. Mire's hidden cameras back then, she'll definitely notice my camera hidden in the lamp in her bedroom. I shouldn't have left my camera in her house. That was a terrible idea. I've got to go back and get it before she sees it and decides to kill me or something.

"Mia?" Frantic, I turn to Mia and she's pouting as she stares at the road ahead. "We have to go back to Ms. Karin's house. I left something there."

"Can't." Without glancing at me, Mia turns into my neighborhood. "Ms. Karin's not home. Remember? She said she had to go somewhere right after we left."

"Perfect! That's even better," I exclaim. "I know this sounds crazy, but can you help me break into her house? I left my camera there and I really need it back."

Mia sighs, her shoulders moving up and down. She shakes her head and says, "I can't believe you're joking around while I'm going through this. I'm really depressed right now, Andy. So, seriously are you saying I should break up with Ran?"

As I glare at Mia I can feel my left eye twitching. Yeah, she's not going to help me get my camera back. I close the diary and look down at it as I take a deep breath.

I'll just have to figure out another way to get it back.

Beside me, Mia sniffs. I glance at her and she's wiping her eyes.

"Are you crying?"

"Of course I'm crying!" she shouts so loudly that I jump. "I love Ran and I don't want to break up with him! I'd do anything for him, I slept with Mr. Brown for him!"

I stare at Mia in shock. "I don't, um, I don't understand."

Mia wipes her eyes with the back of her hand and sniffs loudly. "Last year, I wanted to make Ran jealous, so I slept with Mr. Brown. But Ran didn't even notice. Because that's the way he is, he never notices anything about me or my life, and Andy," her voice gets louder as she turns to me and says, "I swear to God, if you tell anyone a word about me and Mr. Brown, I will murder you in cold blood! Cold!" In the dim lighting, Mia's narrowed eyes glisten with angry tears and I believe her.

"I won't say a word."

"I can't believe I just told you that." Mia curses under her breath. "I need to shut up before I say too much."

I frown, wondering what could possibly be any worse than what Mia's already told me. She flips on the radio and turns a Taylor Swift song up as far as the volume will allow. I guess she's hoping the noise will drown every trace of our conversation.

I glance at Mia while she blinks away her tears and chants the lyrics along with Taylor in the worst singing voice I've ever heard.

As I watch her, I decide that no matter how much I like Van, I will never be this desperate for him. I will, however, make another desperate attempt to get my hidden camera out of Ms. Karin's house.

"Hey Mia!" I shout over her terrible singing, "I'm serious about going back to Ms. Karin's. Can you bring me? Please?"

"No, Andy."

Great. Now I'm going to have to ask Gia to drive me to Ms. Karin's place. She'll barrage me with endless questions about why I need to go back.

That's going to be fun.

#

#

# _Twins_

I haven't been to Gia's house in forever and as I make my way to the back door, I can't help but feel like I'm finally coming home.

Heath takes my hand and offers me a shy grin.

Since I explained my "four weeks free pass" idea, he's been clingy and nervous. Like, on our way to Gia's house, he hardly said a word but he had this confused look on his face and I kept catching him stealing sideways glances at me. It's a good thing Heath's lovable and hot, otherwise I'd be a little freaked out by all the staring.

His hand in mine, I come to a halt in front of the Moretti's light blue door. It's a truly hideous color, but it's the entrance to the safest place in my world, so I love it and I hope they never repaint it.

"Want me to knock?" Heath asks.

"Nah, I got it." I knock on their door, ring the bell, and glance down at my khaki capris, brushing off any possible dust. There's no dust. I'm just nervous.

"Coming!" a deep voice calls.

Crap, I thought Mr. Moretti would be at work tonight. Flinching, I take a step back and accidently bump into Heath.

Mr. Moretti used to be super chill when I was younger, but since ninth grade things have been different. I can tell he doesn't appreciate me being friends with Gia, and I understand why.

"You okay?" Heath asks, his minty breath grazing my ear.

"Yep."

The door flies open and Mr. Moretti, tall and cute in a Mark Ruffallo-on-absolutely-no-sleep kind of way, appears. At the sight of me, his eyebrows go up and his jaw clenches.

Yeah, he hates me.

I take a deep breath, hoping I don't look horribly nervous.

"Via." His gaze goes to Heath. "And, hello...?"

I elbow Heath and he releases my hand, immediately stepping forward. "Hi, Mr. Gia's dad. I'm Heath Remington. I go to school with Via and your daughters."

Mr. Gia's dad?

I glare at Heath as he offers Mr. Moretti a tense grin.

"Nice to meet you, Heath," Mr. Moretti says. "Come on in. I'll get Gia." He opens the door for us.

"Thank you." I smile at Mr. Moretti, hoping for some half-glimmer of acceptance as I step inside.

"Sure," he mumbles, turning away from me.

My stomach sinks and I glance down. What did I expect? Who'd want their straight-A genius-child to be friends with me?

Mr. Moretti closes the door behind us and Heath takes my hand, looping his fingers through mine. Grateful for his support, I turn to him and mouth, "I love you."

"You too," he whispers.

"Sorry, what was that?" Mr. Moretti asks, returning his attention to us.

"I was just telling Via I love her, uh...sir," Heath sheepishly replies.

To my surprise, Mr. Moretti's eyes soften and he smiles. "Oh, okay. That's...nice. I'll get Gia for y'all. Sit tight." He runs a hand through his curly brown hair, glances at us once more and then starts towards the hallway. He pauses in stride and turns back to us. "If you two want something to eat, check out the refrigerator. You know where the kitchen is, Via."

He spoke to me!

"Okay." I grin, relieved. "Thank you." Turning to Heath, I happy-punch him in the shoulder and whisper, "Mr. Moretti doesn't completely hate me."

"Why would he?" Heath frowns.

"A guy I used to--" I stop short. It's probably not a good idea to tell my boyfriend that the twenty-three year old bass player I used to hook up with was a friend of Gia's dad and told him all about me. Thinking quickly, I sputter, "I'm so hungry. Let's see what they have to eat."

I start towards the Moretti's kitchen, dragging Heath behind me. A familiar voice shrieks my name and, delighted, I pause mid-stride. Gia's little sister, Lula, bounds down the hallway in a rowdy stampede of one.

"Who's that?" Heath whispers.

"Gia's little sister, Lula--" The words have barely left my lips when the twelve-year-old appears in the doorway, wearing the pink pajamas I bought her a few months ago. Her long dark hair is a mess, but her eyes are lit with joy and she's got an adorable grin on her face.

I open my arms and shout, "Luullllaaa!"

She laughs and shrieks, "Viaaaaa!" Lula runs into my arms with the force of a tween nuclear missile.

I fall backwards as she hugs me and we crash to the floor in a laughing heap. I can't believe I haven't seen this kid in so long. Am I crazy? Avoiding Gia and her family has been one of the dumbest ideas I've ever had.

Once she lets me go, Heath helps us both to our feet and Lula's eyes widen at the sight of him. I dust off the back of my khakis and ask, "So, what have you been up to?"

Still staring at Heath and not letting go of his hand, Lula says, "I was in a talent show. Is he your boyfriend?"

"Yeah." I chuckle and Heath looks at me, arching an eyebrow. I shrug. "Babe, you might want to introduce yourself."

"Hi." He stoops until he's eyelevel with Lula. "I'm Heath. I guess you're Lula. Your name sounds like hula."

"Yeah, it does." She grins and tucks her hair behind her ears. "How old are you?"

"Sixteen. How old are you?"

"Twelve." She purses her lips, which is insane because how does a twelve-year-old know how to make a Kardashian pouty face? "I won my school's talent show."

"Did you?" He glances down at his hand, which she's still holding. "Uh...that's cool. What did you do?"

"I sang. I have a great voice. What's your favorite song?" she asks. "I'll sing it for you."

I pat the top of Lula's head and break in before Heath can answer her. "It's not all about what he wants; we want to hear your favorite song. What do you want to sing, Lula?"

She glances at me, as if just now remembering that I'm in the room.

"Via?" Gia's voice cuts into our conversation.

I slide my hand out of Heath's and turn to my best friend.

She stands in the kitchen doorway, smiling.

Despite her smile, I can tell she's self-conscious. She repeatedly smooths down her t-shirt like she's trying to unwrinkle it... but she's worried for nothing because she always looks gorgeous. My bestie is like a young Blake Lively; sunny, beautiful, and elegant.

"Hey," I say, heading towards her.

As much as I'm going to miss Heath while I'm gone, I'm going to miss Gia even more.

I wrap my arms around her and her eyes go wide, like she's startled- but not in a bad way because she laughs.

I release her and say, "I have to leave for four weeks and I'm going to miss you."

"Leave?" Gia frowns. "Why?"

I delve into a brief explanation and to my surprise, Gia and Lula grow teary-eyed.

"I don't want you to leave," Lula cries, her nose turning pink.

Heath, who's still holding her hand, says, "I know, me neither."

I glance at Gia. "It's only for four weeks. I'll be back before you know it. And hopefully I'll be a better friend when I come back." My voice cracks and I clear my throat. "Gia, I've been so horrible to you. I'm sorry. I don't want to be that way anymore."

"You weren't horrible," Gia says, but she blushes. We both know she's lying.

"I was." I shake my head. "Those things I said the other day...I was so mean. I shouldn't have said any of that. I've just been, like, in a really bad place. I'm sorry."

Gia smiles, her expression filled with relief. "It's okay." She steps forward and gives me another hug.

"I don't deserve a friend like you," I whisper.

She releases me and shakes her head. "Don't say that."

I take her hands in mine and give them a squeeze. "When we first became friends, I felt like we were different versions of the same person."

She grins. "Me too."

I take a deep breath and hope I can explain myself clearly. "And, for a while now, I've felt like you're the best version of us, while I'm the...well, the opposite of that."

Gia's face falls. "But you know that's not true."

"True or not, it's how I've felt." I shrug. "It's like I've been subconsciously comparing myself to you, and of course I can't hold a candle to you--you're perfect. But I'm thinking that if I go away for a little while, maybe I'll learn who the real me is. I won't get stuck comparing myself to you, or anyone. I'll just be me. And when I come back, I'll be more, like... secure."

Gia's listening to me carefully and her expression is incredibly somber. I hope she understands. I hope she doesn't think I'm pushing her away again.

"So, you're saying you want to find yourself?" she asks.

"Exactly!" I exclaim, pointing to her. "Thank God, you understand what I'm trying to say."

She smiles. "Of course I understand. In fact, I think that's awesome. I--"

Behind us, the Moretti's back door opens and tires screech as someone peels out of their driveway. But even louder than the screeching tires is Andy's voice as she bursts in through the back door. "I need to go to Ms. Karin's house right now! Gia? Heath? Heath! Oh my God, perfect! Heath, can you take me to Ms. Karin's house? Like, now?"

I spin around and Andy's crazy-eyes are fixed on my boyfriend as he carefully backs away from her. "Uh, okay, whatever," Heath says.

"Why?" Gia and I demand in unison.

When Andy doesn't reply, Gia raises her voice, "Andy, why exactly do you need to go to Ms. Greenich's house?"

Andy ignores her sister's question and sets her hand on Heath's arm as she smiles up at him. "Thanks, Heath. You're the best."

I roll my eyes. Everyone thinks of Andy as some little asexual tomboy or whatever, but I know better. The last time my brother was here for the holidays, I caught her staring at his butt. That's bad enough, but flirting with my boyfriend? Not happening, bro.

I move to Heath's side, claiming my territory. He glances at me before sliding his free hand around my waist.

"I'm coming too," Lula pipes up, still clutching Heath's hand.

"No, Lula, you're not going anywhere. Come here," Gia orders. She beckons her little sister, who scowls and reluctantly stomps to her. Gia returns her attention to Andy. "And, Andy, why do you need to go to Ms. Greenich's house again? You were just there."

"How about you mind your own business?" Andy retorts.

Uh oh.

I glance at the door, wondering if me and Heath can slip away before the showdown begins.

"Why can't I go with Heath and Andy?" Lula demands.

Heath leans towards me and whispers in my ear, "Are they always like this?"

"Pretty much," I whisper.

Gia looks Lula in the eye. "It's past your bedtime and you know that. So, you can either take that attitude and go to bed right this minute, or you can stay here and get in a ton of trouble. Your choice."

"You are the worst," Lula screams before stomping off to the hallway.

Heath plants a kiss on my cheek and whispers, "I don't know how you put up with this, V."

"It's called love." I pat him on the cheek. "And it's the same reason I put up with you."

He chuckles halfheartedly and I turn to Gia. She's facing Andy, demanding answers. I look at the two of them, noticing- not for the first time- just how much they look alike. They could totally pass for twins, especially now that Andy's getting older.

"Answer me, Andy," Gia orders. "Why do you need to go to Ms. Greenich's house?"

"I left something there."

"Why can't you just call her and ask her to bring it to school tomorrow?" I suggest.

Andy glares at me. "Because she's not home."

"Wait a minute," Gia frowns, considering this. "If she's not home, how were you expecting to..." Gia's eyes widen as she exclaims, "Lord in heaven! Andy, tell me you're weren't going to break into Ms. Greenich's house!"

Andy rolls her eyes and turns to Heath. "Can we please leave now?"

Heath nods. "Sure."

I jam my elbow into his side. "Wrong answer."

He looks from me to Andy. "Actually, never mind. Sorry, Andy."

"Heath!" Andy cries. Aghast, she turns to me. "Via, this is important; you have to let him take me."

"No one's going to help you break into our teacher's house, Andy," Gia snaps. "Have you lost your mind?"

I glance at Andy and her left eye is twitching- a sure sign of an impending explosion.

"I think maybe we should go--" I start, when Andy interrupts me.

"Via," she says between clenched teeth, "when I talked to your brother yesterday, he had no idea you were suspended. And I didn't tell him, but I can. And if I do, I'll also tell him why you were suspended. But, if you let Heath bring me to Ms. Karin's house, I won't say a word."

"Andrea Theresa Moretti!" Gia shouts. "That is blackmail!"

"Yeah, that's dirty, Andy," Heath agrees, glancing at me.

"I'm sorry," Andy says, her eyes not leaving mine. "But I need to get into Ms. Karin's house. Are you and Heath going to take me there or is your brother going to know all about--"

"Go ahead and tell my brother," I say, cutting Andy off. As much as I hate to hurt my brother, there's no way I can let Gia's little sister do something that could get her in trouble. "It's not like Van and the rest of my family don't already know what people say about me."

Andy's face falls, but the look of despondence is fleeting. Recovering quickly, she narrows her eyes. "Fine. Your choice."

"No, wait, Andy" Heath pipes up. "Don't tell Via's brother. I'll take you. I'll even break into Ms. Karin's house for you if that's what you want."

"Heath!" I turn to him and he meets my eyes.

"Sorry, V," he hesitates and then touches my shoulder like he's trying to comfort me. "But your brother needs to get used to having me around. If Andy tells him what happened, that'll never happen."

I know I should be annoyed with Heath, but relief washes over me and I fight back a huge grin. A grin would be beyond inappropriate seeing as my boyfriend just agreed to help Gia's little sister do something majorly stupid, not to mention completely illegal.

"Are you mad?" Heath asks, his eyes searching mine as he tries to read my expression.

"At Andy? Yeah," I confess. But, a surge of happiness courses through me and I stand on my tiptoes to plant a kiss on Heath's cheek. "But," I whisper, "I couldn't love you more right now."

#

#

# _Trespassing_

"Andy!" Furious, I turn to my sister. "You are not doing this."

She ignores me and gives Heath a nod. "Let's get going, and thanks."

He flashes her one of his stupid-perfect smiles. "It's not like I had a choice." Heath pulls his keys out of his pocket and starts for our door. All I can do is stand there, utterly helpless while Andy follows him.

Via cringes. "I'm so sorry, Gia."

I start to tell her it's not her fault when Andy beckons me. "Gia, you should come," she says, speaking in a low and rather grave voice. "If you come with me, you'll understand why I'm doing this."

I take a long look at my sister- her mouth, set in a determined straight line, is tight and her head is held high; whatever it is she thinks she's doing, she definitely has confidence about it. But those intense eyes of hers are where the real heart is and at the moment, they're softened by earnestness. She really wants me to come with her.

I shift on my feet, considering the offer. When was the last time Andy invited me to join her on one of her harebrained adventures? And she's a smart girl, so surely there's a reasonable explanation for what she's doing.

"Fine," I murmur. "I'll go."

Andy squeals and wraps me in a hug. Pleased as I am, I roll my eyes.

This is probably the worst decision I've ever made in my entire life.

MS. GREENICH'S NEIGHBORHOOD isn't as nice as Via's, but it's newer than ours. I watch the passing blur of cute little starter homes as Heath turns onto her street.

Meanwhile, the moon shines like a beacon in the night sky, illuminating not only the dark, but the crime we're poised to commit.

I cannot believe I agreed to this.

"That's her house up ahead--on the right," Andy says, excitement in her voice. "Stop here and turn your lights off... no Heath, don't stop in the middle of the street!"

"You said stop here," he argues.

"Babe, she means in that driveway where there's a for sale sign," Via says. "See the empty house?"

"Oh," Heath murmurs. "Sorry."

I glance at him, surprised. An apology from Heath is a rare occurrence.

My gaze goes to his and Via's entwined fingers.

I've always understood Heath's reasons for being with my best friend. Via's fun, cute, easy to get along with, and she has a great depth that few people bother tapping into. But I've never really understood what she sees in him, other than his looks and popularity. As I consider this, Via gives his hand a squeeze.

Then again, just because I can't see it, doesn't mean it isn't there.

Andy once told me that she thinks we can find our twin in anyone if we look hard enough.

Maybe I don't want to see the things me and Heath have in common, just like I didn't bother noticing what Elizabeth and I had in common. I've chosen to be blind, which is a great way to lose out on potential friendships. But Heath really cares about Via, and that in itself is reason enough for me to open my eyes.

Andy claps her hand on my shoulder as Heath puts the truck in park. "Okay," she says, "so I need you to trust me."

I turn to her. "Trust you?"

"Yeah." Andy nods. "Come with me. I want to show you what I've been researching. But you have to trust me."

"Andy." I hesitate, glancing at Ms. Greenich's house before turning back to my sister. "For the record, this is wrong and I don't condone it. But I'll go to protect you."

"Noted. Thanks, Gia." Grinning, she unbuckles her seatbelt and leans towards the front seat, inching her way between Via and Heath. They look surprised as they turn to the intruder of their personal space. "Don't sit in here making out or whatever while me and Gia are inside. You'll need to focus on looking for Ms. Karin's car. The second you see her, text me."

"Sure," Via agrees.

"You got it, boss." Heath gives my sister a half smile.

"Glad you know your place, subordinate," Andy says before turning to me, her blue eyes shining. "Ready?"

I want to yell, "Never!" and run away, but against my better judgment, I shrug and say, "Let's get this over with."

THE CRICKETS SCREAM their night song and my stomach flip flops with nerves while Andy slinks past the shrubbery along the side of Ms. Greenich's house, whispering, "Come on, there's a sliding glass door around back."

"What if it's not unlocked?" I hiss, hurrying to catch up with her.

"I'll get us inside," she replies, moving past the air conditioning unit and turning around to wave me forward. "Hurry up."

"How?" Finally beside her, I cross my arms against the breeze and wish I'd thought to throw a jacket on over my thin t-shirt. "How are you going to get us inside? You're not going to break her door, are you?"

We take a left and Andy doesn't reply as we hurry through Ms. Greenich's empty carport and make our way to the patio. I slow down to assess our surroundings and double check that there's no one around to see us. It would be horrible if a random neighbor happened to be walking their dog or something and saw us.

"Come on, Gia!" Andy whispers, interrupting my thoughts. She's a few feet ahead of me and come to think of it, she still hasn't answered my question about whether or not she's planning to shatter Ms. Greenich's sliding glass door.

Quickening my pace, I grab her arm and turn her around to face me.

"What, Gia?" Andy demands in exasperation.

"You need to promise me you're not going to break any part of Ms. Greenich's house--not a door, not a window, nothing!" I look her in the eye, refusing to back down. "If you want me here, you have to promise me."

Andy shakes me off and wiggles out of my grasp. "Of course I'm not going to break anything." Her glasses are crooked on her nose and, straightening them, she says, "Remember how I said 'trust me'? Now would be a great time to start."

Before I can reply, Andy turns away from me and continues on. Sighing, I hurry behind her.

Ms. Greenich's back patio is nice. To my right sits a large barbeque grill and to my left is her kitchen window. The white curtains are parted and the house is pitch black inside. I can make out the silhouettes of a refrigerator and microwave.

"Andy--" I start.

"Oh, my God, Gia! Would you please just shut up?" Andy whisper-screams. She then points to a sliding glass door to the right of the kitchen window. "We're here now."

"I was just going to say that we could've at least tried the back door," I say.

Andy ignores my observation and hurries to the sliding door. She tries to open it and it's locked.

I'm so relieved that I nearly say, "Thank God, now we can go." But, catching myself, I feign disappointment and say, "Well, we tried."

As I start to turn around, Andy puts both of her palms flat against the glass and grimaces as she pushes her weight into it, sliding the glass door up and to the right.

"Andy," I hiss. "What are you doing?"

"This," she mutters, while the door unlocks and slides open. Exhaling, Andy takes a step back and blows a stray curl out of her face. "Let's go."

Oh no. This is happening. This is such a bad idea...

Grimacing, I take a deep breath and follow Andy into Ms. Greenich's house where I'm immediately hit with a pleasant floral aroma.

I've only been here once and, curious, I peek into our drama teacher's kitchen. A stack of paper plates and dirty napkins sit on the counter along with bottles of mayo and mustard. It's kind of a mess.

Strange. I would've expected someone as together as Ms. Greenich to keep an immaculate kitchen. I hurry out of the dirty kitchen and fall in line behind Andy.

We pass a large bookcase and then Andy turns left. "We're going to her room; it's at the end of this hall."

"Why would you have left something in her bedroom? What were you even doing in there?" I ask, glancing at Ms. Greenich's bare hallway walls.

Andy doesn't reply and I continue my assessment of our teacher's blank hallway walls. It's odd that she doesn't have even one picture on these walls. At our house, the walls are filled with pictures, awards, and crayon drawings that Lula and Gabby will probably one day beg us to, for-the-love-of-God, take off the wall and burn. It's not exactly elegant, but it's part of what makes our house feel like a home. Even Via's mom, a posh interior decorator, has family photos on their wall. Of course they're all professional and airbrushed, but they're on the walls.

Andy stops in front of a closed door and turns to me.

"Is this her room?" I ask.

"Yeah." Andy's eyes are so wide that she almost looks scared. I take a closer look at my sister and realize that she is scared.

"Do you want me to open the door?" I offer.

Andy bites down on her bottom lip and hesitates before saying, "Gia, lately I've been noticing that something's off about Ms. Karin and I needed proof of... well, of what's going on with her. That's why I did all this. And I should probably warn you that this might get weird. So, whatever we find in here, I need you to not freak out. Okay?"

Why did I agree to come here? I could kick myself.

"No freaking out. Agreed." I point to the door. "Shall we?"

Andy opens the door.

Holding my breath, I follow her into the darkened bedroom. I look to my right and left, taking in the large bed, curtained windows, and nightstand. So far, nothing seems amiss. It's just a room. A plain and boring room...no pictures in here either.

I release the breath I've been holding and follow Andy to the nightstand beside Ms. Greenich's bed.

"Wow, this is scary," I say in a dry tone. "Thanks for the warning."

"I wasn't talking about the room," Andy whispers as she approaches a small red lamp that sits on the nightstand. She slides her hand under the lamp's shade.

Sighing, I wonder what time it is and glance at the digital clock beside the lamp Andy's fumbling with. 8:13. I should be at home right now finishing my math homework. This is just ridiculous.

Irritated, I glare at my sister while she struggles with whatever it is she's doing to the lamp.

"The air freshener is really strong in here." I fake a cough. "My allergies are going to go crazy any second now. We should go."

The smell isn't really bad. In fact it's a lovely floral aroma that isn't bothering my sinuses a bit. Sneaking around and engaging in criminal activity, on the other hand, that bothers me.

"Finally. I got it," Andy mumbles. She removes a small red camera from the lamp and turns to me, her eyes beaming. "This is what I was talking about. It might be nothing...I don't know. Come look."

She returns her attention to the camera and I hear sound coming from it, so I guess she's playing back a video.

It dawns on me that Andy must have been secretly recording Ms. Greenich.

I groan and shake my head. "Andy! Do you know how illegal it is to--"

"Look!" Andy grabs my arm and yanks me towards her.

Frustrated, I glare at her while she rewinds the footage.

"Don't judge me, just look at this and you'll understand why I had to do this."

Sighing, I focus on the LCD screen on the back of Andy's camera. All it shows is blurry footage of Ms. Greenich's empty room. I wait...hoping for something that will support Andy's claim as to why she had to resort to the illegal invasion of our teacher's privacy.

As the blurry footage of Ms. Greenich's room remains on screen, I can't help but sigh again. And then I abruptly stop sighing.

In fact, my thoughts evaporate and chills run up and down my arms. Now that I see what Andy's talking about, I inadvertently take a step away from the camera.

I look at my sister. "This is a joke, right?" My voice sounds oddly high-pitched.

Andy rewinds the footage and points to the screen, her brow furrowed. "Does it look like a joke?"

I watch it again.

Ms. Greenich's bedroom is empty.

Then, out of nowhere, our teacher's head appears just before her neck and body, likewise, materialize out of thin air. The camera shakes and I glance at Andy's hands, realizing that it's not the camera that's trembling, she is.

"Pause it and give me the camera," I gently instruct.

She hands me the camera. "This is so...God, Gia. I don't even know what to do with this."

Neither do I. My heart is slamming in my chest and I feel like I might throw up. But, I feign calm and offer Andy my best reassuring smile. "It's not a big deal." I shrug. "We just need to figure out what's going on and you're good at solving mysteries. So, that's no problem at all. Right?"

Andy's eyes are wide with fright, but she nods. "Right."

"And," I say, giving her shoulder a squeeze, "personally, I think this is fake. Ms. Greenich isn't invisible; it's just a camera trick."

Andy's face falls. "You don't understand. The diary--" Her phone vibrates and, startled, she shoves a trembling hand into her pocket, retrieving it. As she opens the received text message, I read it over her shoulder.

Get out, Ms. Karin's coming!

Without a word, I grab Andy's hand and dart for the bedroom door.

#

#

# _What do we do about Karin Greenich?_

My apologies to the environment, but right now I am insanely happy to see Heath Remington's ginormous ozone-killing truck. With my little red camera in hand and Gia at my heels, I run full speed towards it and I'm breathing so hard it feels like my lungs are going to explode.

I slam into one of the truck's back doors and try to open it, but it's locked. I bang on the window. "Open the door, Heath!"

Gia, meanwhile, runs around to the other side of his truck. Two houses down, I can see Ms. Karin's car backing into her driveway.

A loud clicking noise sounds as genius-boy finally unlocks his doors. I thrust the door open and climb inside. Heath starts the engine immediately.

"Don't turn your lights on yet!" I shout.

"Duh," he says, peeling out, his tires screeching.

"OMGod, Heath!" I shout, clinging to the door. "Could you have been any louder?"

"Seatbelt, Andy!" Gia barks.

I give her a look. How can she possibly care about whether or not I have on my seatbelt when we just found proof that our teacher has superhuman abilities?!

Via turns around from her spot in the front passenger seat and gives us a huge grin. "That was exciting! Did you get what you needed?"

Gia and I exchange glances.

"Yes." Gia nods.

"And then some," I add.

THE SHOWER RUNS in the bathroom and I pace our room, unable to comprehend how Gia can do something like take a shower after hearing what I've just told her. It was a relief to finally tell her about the contents of Tessa Lyles' diary, and I've got to admit I was pleasantly surprised by how well Gia took the news.

She gave me a hug, said, "We'll find a way to fix this" and then announced that she needed a shower.

Now I'm the one pacing our room and freaking out about the sight of Ms. Karin appearing out of thin air. This is further proof that Ms. Karin is Tessa Lyles. In the diary, Tessa said I.T.I.S. gave her superhuman abilities. She said they'd given her the ability to fly and shoot fire from her fingertips, but she didn't say anything about invisibility, which is what we saw on camera. Maybe they gave her that ability later, so it's logged in an entry towards the end. After all, I haven't finished reading the entire diary yet.

Taking a deep breath, I quit pacing and close my eyes.

Okay. So, while it's comforting to know that I wasn't completely insane to be suspicious of Ms. Karin, this isn't good. According to what I've read in the diary so far, Tessa was angry and murderous... I need to finish reading the diary to find out how far she went in carrying out her plan to kill Dr. Mire and destroy I.T.I.S.

Hurrying to my workstation, I grab my backpack from under my desk and retrieve the diary just as our bathroom shower shuts off. I plop down in my desk chair and read where I left off:

Cary Grant's known for saying, "Let them see you and not the suit. That should be secondary." That's good advice and I intend to use it. But, not as it pertains to something as trite as clothing.

Our bedroom door opens and Gia walks in. "Hey." She smiles.

That smile. Ugh. I force myself not to roll my eyes at my sister's fake "reassuring" smile. While I appreciate the way Gia's trying to be upbeat for my sake, I wish she'd just let herself be scared.

"Hey," I say and return my attention to the diary.

#

#

# _Being a Big Sister_

I pull my wet hair back into a ponytail and sit down on my bed. I flop backwards and stare at our ceiling, replaying the mental image of Ms. Greenich appearing out of thin air.

I'm guessing that's what Andy's thinking about too, so I turn to her and say, "Tonight was crazy."

"Yep." Her voice is so quiet I can barely hear her. She's been like this ever since she told me the whole Tessa Lyles story.

I still can't believe that (a) she paid for Uncle Tim to go to Alabama and (b) he was irresponsible enough to actually go. What kind of adult does that? Then again, what kind of adult doesn't realize that this is all just a misunderstanding? I mean, kidnapping children to give them superpowers? Andy and Uncle Tim have been watching too many sci-fi flicks.

"When did life turn into an X-Men movie?" I ask, hoping to illicit a response from Andy.

"I don't know," she replies, her voice low.

I sit up and take a look at my sister. She sits in front of her computer with her head down, as if she's reading something. I start to ask her what she's reading when my phone vibrates. I grab it from my nightstand.

Rodney's texted me.

My heart skips a beat and I glance at Andy. She's still engrossed in whatever she's reading.

Earlier today, after Rodney and I finished our lunch, he asked for my number so he could text me about the movies. I know it was perfectly innocent, but it felt weird because he's Andy's boyfriend. In fact, while I was giving him my number, I promised myself I'd tell Andy about my conversation with him - including the awkward moment when Rodney flat out admitted that he used to have a crush on me.

Telling her is the right thing to do... but with the occurrence of this Tessa Lyles issue, I haven't had the opportunity to talk to her about it yet. Besides, I must admit that a part of me dreads saying even one word to Andy about Rodney.

Lightly biting down on my lip, I open his text.

Hey Gia, I was thinking since you're busy this weekend, how about we go on Friday night instead?

Smiling, I reread his text.

Going to the movies with Rodney might actually be fun. He was so sweet today, the way he listened when I talked...actually "rambled" might be a better description of what came out of my mouth during our conversation. But, no matter how half-coherent I sounded, Rodney listened and made me feel better. I bet he's a great boyfriend.

I lose my smile and take a deep breath. Why didn't he mention Andy in this message? And why is he even texting me? She's his girlfriend. Anxiety-induced pain floods my temples and I rub them with my index fingers.

What if I'm not imaging things and Rodney does still have feelings for me? Shuddering, I let my hands fall to my lap.

What if the three of us go to the movies, and while Andy's in the bathroom Rodney turns to me and confesses that he's love with me? What if he looks right into my eyes and says, "I care about your sister. But, I can't stop thinking about you, Gia. I--"

No. Stop.

I dismiss the fantasy and glance at the back of my sister's curly blonde head.

I saw her note to Rodney; I know how she feels about him. How selfish of me to sit here daydreaming about her boyfriend! I will not allow myself to think of Rodney as anything more than her boyfriend, no ifs ands or buts about it.

Grabbing my phone, I reply: Something came up, sorry. Rain check?

In less than a minute, my phone vibrates and I read: Sure thing Moretti : )

A smiley face? Lord help me.

I set my phone aside, slide off of my bed, and head to Andy. "What are you doing?"

She turns to me, her face pale and her eyes watery.

"Andy, what's wrong?" I stoop in front of her chair. "What happened?"

Without a word, she lifts the leather bound diary from her lap and hands it to me. I take it and look down at the worn page she's got it opened to.

"Read it," Andy says, her voice breaking as she closes her eyes and takes her glasses off. "Just read what Ms. Karin wrote."

I give her shoulder a squeeze before moving to her bed. Setting the book down, I glance at my sister. Her hands tremble as she wipes her eyes.

Andy's always so strong and sure of herself, it's disturbing to see her like this.

I return my attention to the diary's weathered page and take in the sight of a handwritten paragraph that's followed by some kind of a list. The handwriting is tiny.

Cary Grant's known for saying, "Let them see you and not the suit. That should be secondary." That's good advice and I intend to use it. But, not as it pertains to something as trite as clothing.

I've been kidnapped, tortured, lied to, and my body's become like an expensive suit that I can't take off. They look at me and see "the suit" they've made. But soon, I'll make them see ME. The suit is merely an extra feature that will come in handy when I find and kill the people who've done this to me...

Kill?

Below this paragraph is a list of names. I'm guessing it's a hit list.

Jayne Mire, William F. Dortez, Robert Parkings, Timothy Goldbrook...

Geez, there must be at least thirty names here.

I take a deep breath and remind myself that this isn't real; that it's all just a misunderstanding or some kind of elaborate prank.

"Andy." I look up and meet my sister's eyes. "Ms. Greenich isn't a murderer."

Andy wipes her nose with the back of her hand and puts her glasses back on. "I know she looks like a boring drama teacher, but think about it. Most serial killers are experts at pretending to be boring, normal people. It's what they do best, second to killing."

I shake my head and keep my voice gentle as I say, "But we have to use common sense, Andy. This story is farfetched and Ms. Greenich--"

"Everything in that diary is in her handwriting. Did you notice that?" Andy interrupts.

I look down at the diary. The entries are written in incredibly small cursive, just like Ms. Greenich's. But, that doesn't mean she wrote it.

"Andy." I look up, watching my sister take a deep breath and emit a loud sniff. "We don't know for sure that this is Ms. Greenich's. And, to be honest, I don't think it is. But, if you do and this really bothers you, then our next step is to bring this to the police."

Andy shakes her head. "They won't believe us."

"Honestly, I don't believe it," I confess and Andy looks at me, her eyes widening in shock.

"You think I'm crazy?" she whispers.

Uh oh.

I attempt a quick recovery by vigorously shaking my head and saying, "Of course I don't. And while I've formed my own opinion about the diary, I don't expect you to agree with it. So, I think you should go with your gut feeling and call the police. Let them find out who this diary belongs to. It's that simple."

"What if I talk to Ms. Karin and just ask her if she's Tessa?" Andy asks.

I consider this. The thing is, I don't want Ms. Greenich to think my sister's mentally unstable.

I shake my head. "If you think she did something wrong, you shouldn't confront her about it and make her angry. You should go straight to the police."

Andy frowns and slams her fist against the arm of her chair, making me jump. "I don't want to turn her in!" Her eyes water and I don't know what to say, so I set the diary aside and go to Andy, wrapping her in a hug.

She exhales loudly and then cries against my shoulder.

"It'll be okay," I promise. "We'll find a way to fix this."

Logically, I know that none of Andy's crazy story can be real. Nonetheless, my sister's fear is so real that it's contagious and I find myself silently praying that Ms. Karin isn't Tessa Lyles.

A knock on our door startles me. I turn around just as Dad opens our door. "It's late, girls. Lights--" He pauses, his eyes going from Andy to me and then back to Andy. "What's wrong?"

Immediately leaving the doorway, Dad heads our way and kneels in front of Andy. "Hey," he says, wiping her tears and looking at her expectantly. "Talk to me, Spielberg."

Without a word, Andy leans her head against his shoulder and continues to cry. Dad frowns and hugs her, pausing only to shoot me a look of confusion.

I wonder if I should I tell him what's happened. Of course I'd have to skip the part about us breaking into Ms. Greenich's house.

"I'm fine," Andy says. She leans out of the hug and attempts a smile. "It's just girl problems."

He looks at her carefully and says, "You can talk to me about anything. I hope you know that."

Guilt overtaking me, I cross my arms and glance down at my feet. Dad's right. We should talk to him about all of this. But, Andy will literally never speak to me again if I do that.

"I know. Thanks, Dad," Andy says. "But, I'm okay. It's not a big deal."

I grit my teeth. Yeah, it's no big deal that she honestly believes her favorite teacher might be a homicidal maniac with superhuman abilities--not a big deal at all.

"All right," Dad says. He kisses her forehead and gets to his feet. "If you need me, come talk to me."

Andy nods.

On his way out, Dad elbows me. "Night, you."

"Goodnight." I gulp, sure that he can see, We're Big Fat LIARS! written all over my face like it's been tattooed there. Once he's shut our door, Andy and I look at each other, listening as his footsteps move down the hallway.

I hate lying to Dad. I uncross my arms and start to say this, "I hate--"

"I know; me too." Closing her eyes, Andy brings her thumb and index finger to the bridge of her nose, pinching it like she has a headache. "And I'm sorry, but I don't know what to do and...I just don't know, Gia."

"Hey, listen, I'm going to say this again," I say, moving to reclaim my spot on her bed. "If this bothers you, which it obviously does, then we'll bring it to the police. We can go tomorrow afternoon, right after we take Via to the airport."

Andy's face falls, but she nods and whispers, "Okay."

#

#  

#

#

# _Aunt Cara_

Hugging is an art. And while my mother may be all artsy fartsy when it comes to interior decorating, master of the hug, she is not.

If she hugs you (which only happens once every leap year), she puts about a thousand miles between the two of you and then sort of goes limp, like she's too scared to move. Eventually, she comes to and robotically pats you on the back like you're a baby and she's trying to burp you. Then, she lets you go. This all happens in two-point-five nanoseconds.

But today, in the middle of Louis Armstrong International Airport at the TSA security check-in point, while sunlight filters in through the nearby window, half-blinding me, I am nearly squeezed to death by my mother- and I love it. I love it so much that I can't stop crying.

"I'll miss you," she whispers. "And I love you."

Mom and I are the exact same height--the one thing we have in common.

Her alabaster skin is pale beside my perpetual tan, and in contrast to my ponytail, pink t-shirt, and denim shorts, Mom wears a dark blue pantsuit and her jet black hair is, for once, freed from its French twist prison. Loose, her hair falls just past her shoulders.

I bury my face in the collar of her jacket, my voice muffled. "I love you too."

She releases me and gives my hand a squeeze while I drink in the sight of her like this is the last time I'll see her. Four weeks isn't exactly a lifetime, but who knows? My plane could crash or, whatever, you never know...geez, I sound like Gia.

Mom smiles, revealing the dimple in her left cheek. Van has one just like it. Her eyes water and she blinks quickly, trying not to let her tears spill over.

"Just cry, Mom, it'll make me feel special." I lean forward and plant a kiss on her cheek.

"Flight 1420 to Fairtowne, Connecticut has arrived early--all passengers please report to Gate B2," a voice over the PA announces.

"That's you," Dad says as he claps a hand on my shoulder. "Better get in line, Via."

"Okay, yeah." I give him and Crystal one more hug and, trying not to choke on Crystal's perfume, quickly lean out of her embrace. It smells good, but she's wearing too much of it.

I clear my throat and take a deep breath while Crystal giggles and says, "Aw, honey, your mascara."

"Oops." I rub the skin under my eyes and look down at my hands. They're full of black smudges.

"Wait," Crystal says, reaching into her large, turquoise purse. She grabs a pack of make-up remover towelettes and hands them to me. "Use these."

"Thanks." Accepting them, I take a step back and bump into Heath. I turn to him, and we lock eyes; he grins, his gaze drifting to my lips.

I already told him we shouldn't kiss in front of my parents, but just in case, I back away from him and point to my carry-on suitcase. "You planning on keeping that?"

"I wish," he replies, rolling it towards me. As I take the suitcase from him, our hands touch and he moves his to cover mine. "Call me."

I already told him that wouldn't be a good idea, but when I open my mouth to repeat this, I look into his eyes and hear myself say, "I will."

"Love you, V," he whispers.

"You too." I grin.

"V," Gia pipes up. "You really need to get in line before it gets longer."

"Okay, okay." Turning to my "almost twin," I blow her a kiss and my gaze darts to Andy, who offers me a surprisingly cheerful grin. I guess I shouldn't be surprised. As soon as I hop on this plane, she'll have her sister all to herself.

I try not to take Andy's jabs personally. After all, if I had a sister like Gia, I'm sure I'd want her all to myself too.

Grabbing my suitcase, I wave one last goodbye to my friends and family. This is it. I'm leaving everyone I love and, for the very first time, I'm going to hang out with...just me.

Hopeful yet nervous, I head to the airport security check-in point.

ON THE PLANE, I open the brand new pink and red journal Gia gave me this morning and look down at the blank page, wondering what to write. I bring my pencil to my lips and turn to the window at my right.

The clouds look even more gorgeous up here than they do on the ground.

If I ever get rich enough, I'll never drive anywhere. I'll buy a plane and fly me, Heath, and Gia every-freakin-where. Screw the ground with its cars; I love flying.

"Beautiful isn't it?" the lady sitting next to me says.

I turn to her. "Oh my God, yeah. Every time I fly, I'm like, 'why do we drive at all?' We should just fly everywhere; it's gorgeous."

She returns my smile. "Agreed. It's funny, when I was your age, I thought we'd at least have flying cars by now."

"That'd be awesome, except car accidents would be a lot worse."

She cringes. "Good point."

Thinking of Heath, I add, "Not to mention DWIs would be even more tragic."

"I suppose so," the woman agrees. She takes a sip of her bottled water and I glance at her more carefully; her auburn hair is pulled back into a purposely messy updo, the kind I wish my mom would divorce her French twist for. She wears a short A-line black and white striped skirt with a cute matching moto jacket and her silver-accented make-up is pretty against her chocolate brown skin. She looks important. But don't important people travel in first class?

"So, what brings you to Connecticut?" I ask.

She purses her lips and turns to me. "My best friend's wedding. I'm the maid of honor."

"Oh." I watch her make a face like she's got a bad taste in her mouth before taking another sip of her water. "You don't seem too happy about it."

She sighs. "We're just so busy at my job right now; it's hard to leave..."

While her voice trails off, I can't help but frown at her. That's straight up crazy. Who's more excited about their job than their best friend's wedding?

Catching sight of the expression on my face, she laughs. "I must sound insane, not wanting to miss work to hang out with my best friend."

I grin and shrug. "Well, I wouldn't say 'insane.'"

She smiles good-naturedly. "I do love my job to a dangerous degree. I work for a news station, Channel Seven, in this little town called--"

"Swamp Rose!" I excitedly finish for her. "Oh, my God! I'm from Swamp Rose! And my mom loves Channel Seven's news. She likes y'all's news way better than the Baton Rouge stations."

"That's good to know. Thank you." She offers me her hand to shake. "I'm Kami Davis, workaholic reporter."

"Nice to meet you," I reply, shaking her hand. "I'm Via Nguyen, um...high school student."

"Great to meet you too, Via." She smiles.

"What do you like so much about your job?" I ask, closing my journal and turning to face her.

She straightens in her seat and says, "I've always loved puzzles. As a kid, I'd get this sense of accomplishment when I'd solve one, and I think I've been chasing that feeling my whole life. That's what led me to reporting. I get paid to solve puzzles; it's my dream job."

She takes a sip of her water and I look at her, curious.

I wonder if I'll ever have a job like that. I don't mean being a reporter--I don't want to spend all day solving mysteries or whatever--but I wonder if I'll ever have a career that gives me a sense of accomplishment.

I can see Gia getting a job like that, but me? I foresee myself working as a medical assistant or a nurse at Dad's office and hating it, but doing it because you're supposed to have a job...and honestly, that kind of blows.

"For example," Kami says, her eyes brightening with excitement, "you know the myth about the South Louisiana Superman, Unseen?"

I nod. "Yeah, the invisible guy who goes around saving people."

"Right," she says. "Well, at the moment, we're trying to find out how much truth there is to the myth. I just found out that sixteen years ago in this tiny town in north Alabama, there was a similar myth about a supposedly invisible man called Unseen who would swoop in to save lives during bank robberies, break ins, and things like that."

"That's weird." I frown. Actually, this sounds like one of the stories Andy talks about on her vlog. Making a mental note to text Andy, I ask, "Do you think it's the same guy?"

"This weekend, I'd wanted to go to Alabama and find out," Kami says with a sigh. "But, thanks to my best friend's wedding, here I am on a plane to Connecticut while another reporter gets my story."

"Oh."

She bites down on her bottom lip and shrugs. "So, there goes my chance."

"Whoever's going to Alabama might get the story," I say, glancing at Kami. "But you'll get priceless memories with your best friend. Nothing beats that. And who knows, maybe after this weekend, you could even write an opinion piece about best friends or something."

"Good point." Kami's eyes go to the window and she smiles before quietly saying, "You're an insightful kid, Via Nguyen."

I'm insightful? I smile.

Maybe I am.

AT THE CONNECTICUT airport, I wave to Kami over my shoulder and shout, "Bye, Kami!" She shoots me a grin before making her way to her friends.

I return my attention to my Aunt and give her the most comforting smile I can muster.

She's cute in an adorable pink and black maxi dress and God help me, I love her shoes so much I'm tempted to steal them right off of her tiny feet, but she looks so nervous.

Most people probably wouldn't peg it as nerves, but as soon as I stepped off the plane and saw Aunt Cara waving at me, I recognized her hair-twirling as a nervous gesture.

"So, so, um, do you mind if we grab a coffee? There's a coffee shop in the airport and I just thought, um...we could stop there."

Awww. Poor thing, she's going to die of nerves if I don't somehow make her feel more comfortable. "Coffee's great, I was hoping you'd say that." I smile as widely as I can.

She nods and points to her right. "There's the coffee shop just there."

"Perfect!" I fall in stride beside her and glance at her out of the corner of my eye.

Her short black hair is cut into cute layers and streaked with red. It's pretty and kind of wild. I like it. She's also got a tattoo on her left shoulder blade, just barely peeking out behind the strap of her dress.

"So," I say. "How different are you from my mom?"

Aunt Cara turns to me with something like fear in her eyes.

Oh my God, what did I say wrong?

But the look of fear dissipates and Aunt Cara clears her throat before saying, "We're fifteen years apart, so we never spent much time together. I was born here and she was born back in Vietnam so... you know."

"And you have different dads," I add, glancing at her as we make our way around an older lady in a motorized wheelchair.

My real grandfather died after he, my grandmother, and Mom got to America. Eventually, my grandmother remarried a Puerto Rican guy named Pablo Santana, which means Aunt Cara is half Puerto Rican.

"Yes." Nodding, she looks at me and asks, "Does Lien ever talk about Mom--I mean, your grandmother?"

I shake my head. "Not much. Mom's super private and she's pretty busy with work."

"Interior decorator, right?" Cara asks.

"Yeah, but it's so weird she never talks about our family," I say, turning to her. "When I was little, I'd ask her questions and she'd always change the subject. Promise me you'll tell me more than she did." I give Cara a huge grin and her nostrils flare as she gulps.

Again with the nerves. God.

I ditch my grin and shrug. "But if you don't want to, it's no big deal--"

"No, it's fine, Via." Cara shakes her head. "I want to. I will. We can talk."

Alrighty then. I smile and nod, hoping we can eventually break the ice and act like family.

Cara points to the coffee shop at our right. "Here we are."

I follow her inside and as the comforting scent of coffee fills my nose, I take a deep breath, enjoying the rich aroma.

"Hi, what can I get for you today?" a perky barista asks, reminding me of Kayleigh back home. I swear, that girl is on a perpetual caffeine high. Smiling to myself, I scan the muffins and cake slices while Cara orders. "I'll have a small nonfat decaf mocha with drizzled vanilla, extra cinnamon and whip. Via?"

She turns to me, but I'm too shocked to close my mouth and stop staring at her.

"Via?" Cara repeats, her eyes widening.

Coming out of my shock, I laugh. "Actually, I'll have the exact same thing."

She frowns, watching me carefully. "Are you okay? What happened?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. But I can already tell we're a lot alike." Chuckling, I push my hair out of my face. "You just ordered the exact same drink I always get from our coffee shop back home."

Cara blinks quickly and shifts on her feet. "Really?"

"So." The barista clears his throat. "Two tall nonfat decaf vanilla drizzled mochas with extra cinnamon and whip?"

"Yeah," Cara and I say in unison.

I glance at her and laugh. "My best friend's going to be so jealous when I tell her I have a new twin."

Smiling weakly, Cara turns away from me, and reaches into her purse, retrieving her wallet.

I lose my grin. Well, maybe Aunt Cara doesn't want a twin.

#

#

# _Weird Cops_

I've never been in a police station, but Dad's liked Law & Order for as long as I can remember and when I was little I'd watch it with him. So I'm guessing that's why I don't feel out of place right now. In fact, the constantly ringing phones, the desks in front of and behind us--each of them filled with cops--are all somehow familiar.

I wonder how Gia's doing.

I glance at my sister and she's smoothing down her shirt even though it isn't wrinkled. Yep, she's totally freaked out.

In retrospect, I'm sure that's why she was so fussy when we first walked in, whispering that I should have worn something "more appropriate." I think my Inside the Actors Studio with James Lipton t-shirt is decent enough.

Oh well, at least we got directed to a cop who we kind of know.

I return my attention to Lanie's dad, Lt. Russell, as he clears his throat. I pick up where I left off in my story. "So, then I read the next entry in Tessa's diary and it was a list of people who she planned to kill and that's when we realized we should probably bring the diary to the Cops."

Lt. Russell is scowling and making a face like he's just eaten rotten yogurt. But, he's not looking at us like he thinks we're insane. So I'm not sure whether he's on my side or not. He's a tough one to read. During Lanie's last play--when everyone else in the audience was moved to tears--he just sat there, scowling, with his arms crossed. It's no different now.

"So, why, do you suspect the diary belongs to one of your teachers if you found it in an Alyssum Studios dumpster?" he asks.

In my peripheral, I see Gia turn to glare at me.

So what if I took a few liberties with my story and then also left a bunch of holes in it? Would she rather get in trouble for breaking and entering and a bunch of other laws we (well, mostly I) broke?

I ignore my sister's judgmental stare. "Because it looked like my teacher's handwriting and I also found out that the name this teacher goes by is fake- it's just an alias."

He tilts his head. "Who is this teacher?"

My heart flutters. "Um..."

Do I really want to do this to Ms. Karin? Even if she really was planning to kill those I.T.I.S. people, how can I blame her? Who's to say I wouldn't be nuts if I'd been kidnapped and experimented on by a bunch of scientists who murdered my family?

I turn to Gia and as she meets my eyes, an unspoken understanding passes between us; she's going to have to say it, because I can't.

"Ladies, I need a name," Lt. Russell says. Just behind him, a dark-skinned uniformed cop with shockingly hazel eyes heads our way.

"Right." Gia nods, straightening in her seat. "It's Ms. --" She stops speaking as the hazel-eyed cop claps a hand on Lt. Russell's right shoulder.

"Hey, Grant," the Cop says. "I've got this one."

Lanie's dad frowns and turns to him. "What do you mean 'you've got this one?'"

The cop shrugs helplessly. "Captain wants me to handle it."

Lt. Russell's eyes glaze with anger.

Whoa.

He bolts from his chair and the other cop moves out of his way. "We'll see about that," Lt. Russell mutters as he stalks off.

"I'm Officer Larson," the new cop says. He perches on the edge of Lt. Russell's desk and picks up the notepad Lt. Russell had been jotting in. Leafing through it, Larson says, "So you found a diary at Alyssum Studios and you think the person who wrote it, Tessa Lyles, is planning to kill someone?"

"May already have killed someone," Gia corrects.

"Right," Larson replies, his tone bored as he keeps his eyes on the notes. "So where's this diary?"

I narrow my eyes at him. We should've stuck with Lt. Russell--at least he pretended to take us seriously. "Do you even care about any of this?" I ask.

Gia elbows me and I wince. She turns to Larson, speaking quickly, "I'm so sorry, officer. My sister--"

"Threw the diary away," I lie. "I was so upset when I read it that I threw it away. So unless you want to dig through the school trash, we don't have any evidence. And you know what?"

I turn to Gia and her eyes are wide as she says, "Andy, why are you--"

"This is dumb," I cut in before my sister can accuse me of lying. Standing, I grab Gia's arm. "You obviously don't care about anything we're saying, so why don't we just leave?"

"Andy, wait! What are you doing?" Gia protests as I try to drag her away.

But she's pretty strong, so I release her and head to the parking lot on my own. If I know Gia, she'll follow me.

I SLIDE INTO the passenger's seat, and my sister slams her door so hard the entire Jeep shakes.

"What was that?" she shouts.

"That Larson guy didn't care about Tessa," I say, keeping my voice calm. "He thought we made the whole thing up."

"You can't do that, Andy," Gia says as she starts the engine and pulls out of the police station's parking lot. "You can't talk to a policeman like he's a naughty five-year-old and then storm out. I wish you'd, for once, think before you act."

I glance at my sister and her face is red as she shakes her head. "Would you calm down?" I say. "I need you to be rational and, more importantly, I need you on my side."

"I am on your side," she exclaims. "That's why I don't want you to get in trouble for lying to the police!"

She's beginning to give me a headache. I slip off my glasses, and closing my eyes, I pinch the bridge of my nose. Actually, it's not Gia that's giving me a headache; it's this entire Tessa Lyles catastrophe.

"Please put your seatbelt on," Gia says, in a much calmer tone.

My phone vibrates. I simultaneously grab my phone and drag my seatbelt across my lap. I slide my glasses back on and see that it's Uncle Tim who's calling.

"Hey," I hurriedly answer. "What's going on?"

"You haven't told anyone else about the diary, have you?" he whispers.

I can barely hear him, and wherever he is, it sounds like someone is screaming in the background.

"Where are you?" I ask as Gia slows the Jeep for a red light.

"Answer my question, Andy," Uncle Tim urges. "Did you tell anyone else about the diary?"

"We just told the police."

He curses under his breath. "What exactly did you tell them?"

"Not a lot," I slowly reply. "I told them we found the diary and it looked like the person who wrote it planned on killing someone. Why are you asking me this?"

"Did you give them the diary?"

"No." I glance at Gia as she pulls through the now-green light. "Why?"

"Listen to me, Andy," he says and, in the background, the sound of screaming grows louder. "You can't tell anyone else about the diary, except maybe your dad. No one else. Do you understand me?"

"Why not?"

"Because I don't think I.T.I.S. works alone. From what I'm seeing here, they have their hand in everything; the government, the police--they're everywhere," Uncle Tim says. "So, if the police come back to you with more questions, act like you don't know anything. Say you found the diary, it scared you, and that's all you know. Do you understand me?"

My stomach turns and closing my eyes, I take a deep breath. A low, wailing erupts from his end of the line. "Uncle Tim." I open my eyes. "Where are you?"

"Serenity Bayous Mental Hospital. I'm pretty sure this is where they were keeping Tessa; it's as bad as her diary said."

"Really?" My heart skips a beat. I sit up straighter in my seat and ask the million dollar question, "Do you know if Tessa Lyles escaped and changed her name to Karin--"

"I don't know anything for sure yet," he says, cutting me off. "I've got to go; let's talk later." Without another word, he ends the call.

"What's wrong?" Gia immediately asks.

"We should've done what I said," I snap. "We should've stayed away from the police."

The words have barely left my lips when a siren sounds behind us.

Gia smacks the steering wheel. "Aw, come on, I'm not even speeding! What's he pulling me over for?"

I turn around, my heart pounding as I take in the sight of the police car behind us.

I have a feeling I know exactly why we're being pulled over.

#

#

# _The Incident_

"This is so bad," Andy mutters, pulling off her seatbelt and turning around to get a better look at the police car behind us.

"Hey, put that back on!" I point to her seatbelt, my gaze darting to the rearview mirror. The policeman is still in his car.

"We're parked," Andy says. "You don't need your seatbelt on when you're parked."

"We're not parked. We got pulled over, meaning, we're probably already in trouble. So, put the seatbelt on," I hiss. "Do you want us to get arrested?"

"You can't get arrested for not having a seatbelt on while you're parked, Gia."

"How would you know? When did you get your license?" I stop talking as the policeman steps out of his car. I instantly recognize him as Larson, the officer who questioned us at the station.

"Actually, Gia, we shouldn't even be parked right now. We need to keep driving because this could be dangerous. Uncle Tim said..." Andy keeps talking, but I tune her out, my gaze fixed on Officer Larson. Why would he follow us and pull us over?

My hand trembles as I touch my sister's shoulder. "Andy?"

"... I totally respect the fact that you struggle with dikephobic tendencies," she yammers on without stopping for a breath. "But right now, I really need for you to not trust the guy in the uniform, because--"

"Andy, that's Officer Larson from the police station," I whisper, my heart pounding. "I think he followed us."

"Of course it's Officer Larson!" Andy exclaims, throwing her hands up in a wild gesture. "That's my point! Larson's probably one of them and he probably followed us because he knows that we know!"

"What do you mean one of them?" I ask, glancing in my rearview mirror.

Larson, reaching up to peel dark sunglasses away from his eyes, saunters towards our Jeep. All I can do is pray there's no law against yelling at an Officer of the Law and then storming out of a police station. Then again, maybe he followed us because he knew Andy lied about throwing the diary away- but how would he know that? And why would he even care?

I wish I'd watched Law & Order with Dad and Andy more often--maybe then I'd have more of a clue as to what this is all about.

"I mean he's working with I.T.I.S.," Andy says, panic in her voice. "I know you don't think any of this is real, but Uncle Tim does and he just called to tell me he thinks the police are working with I.T.I.S. and we can't trust them."

I roll my eyes. "Andy, you need to calm down. Here he comes." I roll my window down and try to pull myself together as Officer Larson approaches. He strolls up to my door and leaning forward, rests his elbows on my window.

I offer him a bright smile and Elizabeth O'Neal's observation about my tendency to smile when what I actually want to do is kill someone fleetingly runs through my thoughts. I lower the beam of my smile and greet the policeman with a nod. "Hi, Officer Larson. Is there a problem?"

His hazel eyes bore into mine. "We need you and your sister to come back to the station and answer a few questions."

Nerves course through me and I start to ask him why when Andy leans over me and shouts, "You have our phone number. Why didn't you just call us and ask us to come back instead of chasing us down like fugitives?"

Horrified, I shove Andy back over to her side and turn to the policeman. "I'm so sorry, Officer Larson. My sister doesn't mean that. We just want to know why we're needed for questioning, that's all."

"Because," Andy pipes up and I wince, silently willing her to shut her big fat mouth, "back at the station you acted like you didn't believe a word we said. What's changed in ten minutes?"

Officer Larson's gaze shifts to Andy and I sputter, "Sir, please ignore my sister, she's, um... she's on medication."

Great. Now, I lied to the policeman too.

"You misread my reaction," Officer Larson says to Andy before returning his gaze to me. "In any case, I need you both to step out of the vehicle and return to the station with me."

With him? A silent alarm sounds in my head. Why is he demanding that we ditch our vehicle on the side of the road and get in his car?

"Go with you?" Andy says. "Dude, you must be out of--"

I hold up my hand to shush her and force calm into my tone. "Seeing as we're minors, we'd feel more comfortable if our father were present for questioning."

There. That sounds judicious; he can't say no to that.

Officer Larson doesn't even blink. "We'll pick your father up later. Now, I'll ask you only once more: step out of the car."

I shift in my seat, uncomfortable. I don't exactly trust Officer Larson, but what am I supposed to do? I can't just say no.

"No!" Andy shouts, hitting my arm. "Drive, Gia, drive!"

Beads of sweat form on my forehead as I hesitantly start for the gearshift.

"Bad choice, honey," Larson says, and then tugs at my door.

"Stop!" Andy yells.

All I can do is watch, frozen in panic, while the policeman rips the door right off of my Jeep. He tears it off of the vehicle with the ease of ripping a safety seal off a carton of yogurt. Stupefied, I watch him throw the broken door to the ground, where it scraps against the cement.

How did he do that?

Andy yells and the sound jolts me out of my shock. "Gia, drive!" she's yelling.

My hands trembling, I reach for the gearshift, but I'm too slow. Larson grabs my arm and pulls me out of the Jeep. My right knee bangs against the side of the door and I gasp as pain tears through it, traveling all the way up to my thigh.

"No!" Andy screams while he pulls me along. Behind me, I hear Andy's door slam. "Get away from my sister!"

This psychotic policeman is probably going to kill me, but what's worse is knowing he might hurt Andy.

"Andy, get back in the Jeep," I shout, wincing at the throbbing in my knee. "Get out of here! Go!" Before I can see whether or not Andy's doing as I've said, Larson sets me on my feet and reaches for his cuffs. "Turn arou--"

He stops speaking midsentence and his eyes roll back in his head. He collapses, his handcuffs falling to the gravel beside him.

My breath collecting in my chest, I stare down at Larson's limp body. He just lays there, his eyes open and unseeing...he looks dead.

My stomach turns.

I think he is dead.

A small red puncture wound in his neck catches my attention. I didn't notice it at first, but now the tiny entry point grows increasingly profuse as Larson's blood flows towards it and then leaks out, dribble by dribble, onto the cement.

My heart pounding, I back away from his body. We've got to get out of here. Right now.

I hobble back to the Jeep and shout, "Andy?" Cars whiz by on the highway, drowning out my voice. "Andy, are you okay?"

Why isn't she answering me?

My right knee throbs and I feel like I'm going to throw up as I approach the Jeep's driver side. At the sight of my sister, the world comes to a screeching halt.

Andy's still in her seat, slumped forward, her eyes closed.

No. Oh God, no...

Bile rises in my throat.

Please let her be okay, please...

I hurry to Andy, forgetting the pain in my knee. Before I can reach her, some kind of wet moisture -like water droplets- splatter my eyes, nose, and mouth. They appear out of nowhere, blinding me and making me sneeze. It feels like water, but it can't be. Water wouldn't have this effect. Still sneezing, I stumble backwards and I'm suddenly falling, unable to control my arms and legs. As I hit the ground, my eyes shut and the world goes black.

I OPEN MY eyes and blink slowly, trying to clear my vision.

"Gia?"

At the sound of Andy's voice, relief washes over me and I sit up. I exhale as I take in the sight of my sister and realize that we're home, in our den.

I take a good look at Andy- her hair is still a mess, but she appears to be free of any cuts or bruises.

Thank God. I don't know what I would've done had anything happened to her.

I look down at myself and nothing other than the ache in my knee seems amiss. "How did we get home?" I ask.

Instead of answering me, Andy slides off of our couch and starts sniffing the air.

"Andy, are you okay?"

"Do you smell that?" she asks, her nostrils flaring.

I frown, wondering if she has a head injury. "Hey." I push myself off of the couch and cringe as my knee smarts. "Does your head hurt?"

"Gia." Andy turns to me, her eyes bright. "Tell me what you smell right now."

"What I smell?" I repeat, then notice a strong, but pleasantly floral scent that isn't typically present in our home. It actually reminds me of the air freshener we smelled in Ms. Greenich's house. But why Andy's focused on air freshener at a time like this is beyond me.

"Yeah." Her blue eyes widen as she grabs my shoulder. "What is that?"

"Air freshener, I guess." I squint, staring into her eyes to see if they look unusual. I consider grabbing our flashlight from the pantry. I once read that to see if someone has a concussion, you should shine a light in their eyes; if their pupils don't respond to the light, then they most likely have a head injury. "Andy," I slowly ask. "Do you have any memory of what happened to us?"

Her eyes get a distant look and she backs away from me, shaking her head.

I cringe. Oh no. If she can't remember what happened, that's a very bad sign. I need to call 9-1-1.

"Sit tight," I say. "I'm going to call--"

Andy waves her hand at me, shushing me. "Do you realize what just happened?"

I nod sadly. "We were pulled over by Officer Larson and he somehow di--"

"Unseen happened!" Andy shrieks. "Unseen killed the cop who was trying to hurt us and then Unseen got us home! And you know what...?" Her voice trails off as I try to make sense of what she's just said.

Pushing aside thoughts of Unseen, I focus on what's most important. "So, you do remember what just happened to us? And your head doesn't hurt, right?"

"We never should've gone to the cops! We should've gone straight to Ms. Karin like I said," Andy says, completely ignoring my questions. She grabs my keys from the coffee table and starts for the back door. "And that's what we're going to do right now. Come on, you're driving!"

MY HANDS ARE still trembling with nerves as I slide into the Jeep and shut my car door. I look at it in wonder.

I saw Larson tear this door off, so how is it okay now? Did...Unseen fix my car door? I shake my head in disbelief.

"Let's go!" Andy shouts, bringing her fist down on the dashboard.

"Yeah, we're going, Andy. I'm just...slightly overwhelmed at the moment." I pull out of our driveway, still unable to believe that Andy's insane story about I.T.I.S. and the diary is somehow true.

I drive on auto-pilot, nearly blinded by my speeding thoughts. Everything Andy's been telling me is true. That diary she's been reading--it's real. An organization called I.T.I.S. actually held a bunch of kids captive and "re-engineered" them with superhuman abilities. My thoughts revert to Officer Larson and the way he tore the driver's side door off of my car.

I shiver at the memory. How was he able to do that? That's not normal. Was he "re-engineered" by I.T.I.S.?

Chills run up and down my arms. "So, you really think Ms. Greenich is Tessa Lyles?"

"No, I've been saying that for the past two days for no reason."

Her sarcasm catches me off guard and I glance at her. "Excuse me?"

Andy's turned to her window and I can't see her face. "Now that we were nearly killed, you finally believe me. Now, I'm not such a big joke. Am I?"

"I never thought you were a joke."

"Liar."

Returning my attention to the road, I brake for a red light. "I don't lie."

"Oh, that's right. I forgot," Andy retorts. "You're the all-knowing and perfect robot, Gia Moretti; you can't lie, fart, or ever admit to a mistake."

Andy's words sting, but between Office Larson's death and Unseen rescuing us, I'm more confused than anything. And I most certainly don't have the energy to argue. "Whatever."

My thoughts return to Officer Larson and the vacant look in his eyes when he stopped talking and suddenly fell to the ground... he's dead. I can't believe I saw a man die today.

Suddenly overwhelmed by the urge to cry, I take a deep breath and try to calm myself. But my thoughts refuse to slow. What about Larson's body? What's going to happen when the police find it on the side of the road? Will they come looking for us?

Someone behind me honks and Andy says, "Light's green."

"I know," I lie, embarrassed. I floor the accelerator and blink away my tears.

"See? That's exactly what I mean," Andy mumbles. "You never admit when you're wrong."

"Andy!" I snap. "Considering what we just went through, would you cut me a break?"

I can feel her eyes on me as I hit my signal and turn right onto Woodland Road.

"Sorry."

"It's fine. I just...I was wondering about...th--the body," I stammer. "Like, if the police find it, won't they find our hair or some traces of our DNA on...it?"

"Since when does Unseen leave loose ends?" Andy says, her voice gentle.

I consider this. "So, you're saying you think Unseen will take care of everything?"

"Yeah. I've been studying Unseen's movements and patterns for the past two years and trust me, he's incredibly thorough. He won't leave any loose ends. We have nothing to worry about."

"Okay." I nod and let out a breath that I didn't even realize I was holding.

Andy releases a long sigh and says, "You know, Gia, maybe this is totally the wrong time to say this, but...it'd be great if you would, like, stop trying to control me."

"What?" I frown.

"You asked me to cut you a break," Andy says, shifting in her seat. "Okay, fine. But now it's your turn."

Tensing, I grip my steering wheel. "Well, first of all this is definitely the wrong time to say something like that to me. I just witnessed a man's death! And secondly, what are you even talking about? When do I ever try to control you?"

"You call it 'helping,'" Andy says, her tone unusually calm, like she's trying her best to keep it that way. "And I believe you seriously think you're helping me, but what you're really doing is telling me that because my opinions aren't yours, they're invalid."

"I don't-"

"Maybe that's not your intention, but that's how you make me feel. And I have to say this: I'm not you, Gia. I don't see the world with your eyes, I see it with mine, from my own perspective. And there's nothing wrong with that, just like there's nothing wrong with the way you see it."

My chest tightens as I slow to a stop and put on my blinker, indicating that I'm going to turn into South Louisiana High's parking lot. "Okay. Well, it's not like I want you to emulate me or be my carbon copy," I carefully reply. "To be honest, I'm profoundly confused about where any of this is coming from."

"It's something I've been thinking about for a while; but I wasn't sure how to say it."

"Oh." I glance at my sister.

She turns to me and says, "And I'm glad you don't want me to be someone I'm not, because I won't change who I am, not even for you."

Despite Andy's firm voice and the determined set of her jaw, there's softness in her eyes. Behind me, a car honks and I realize I've been sitting in the middle of the road. I quickly turn into South Louisiana High's nearly deserted parking lot.

"And I don't want you to change either," Andy quietly adds.

Since it's after school hours, I pull into a visitor's space. Trying to keep my tone light, I say, "Even though I'm an all-knowing and perfect robot?"

Andy shakes her head. "I shouldn't have said that."

"No, it's okay." I sigh. "And, for the record, I'll stop trying to control you...and Via and our family and the whole world."

Andy laughs. I glance at her and smile, unsure of how she can laugh after everything we've been through this afternoon.

"I guess a crazy mutant cop trying to kill us is what it takes for us to apologize to each other. That's the Morettis, right?" Andy says, still chuckling.

I lose my smile as fear washes over me. Oh my God, what if more I.T.I.S. people come after us? Who knows who else Larson might have told about the diary!

"Andy, should we tell someone about Larson?" I ask, turning to her. "What if more of them come for us?"

Andy shakes her head. "Definitely not. Besides, who would we tell? We can't trust the police. The only person we can trust is Unseen, and he's already on our side. Think about it. Why, out of all the places in the world, would Unseen come to Swamp Rose?"

Trying to follow my sister's train of thought, I look down at my gearshift and think the situation through. Maybe Unseen suspects that Tessa's here and he wants to keep an eye on her.

"Unseen must know about the I.T.I.S. 'research' that goes on at Serenity Bayous," Andy explains. "And he's probably here to stop their agents and sympathizers, like Larson, from hurting innocent people the way Larson tried to hurt us."

Oh.

I meet Andy's eyes and nod. "I guess that makes sense."

"See? That's one less thing for you to worry about." Andy smiles. "Unseen can take care of I.T.I.S. and the genetically engineered criminals. So, all you have to worry about is whether or not you want to kiss Rodney on your first date."

I falter, my eyes widening as I stare at Andy in shock. "K-kiss Rodney?"

Andy blushes and groans as she hits herself with a facepalm.

My heart sinks. She noticed! Of course she noticed that I like him; Andy notices everything! But, why would she want me to go out with the boy she's dating? That's ridiculous.

"Andy, I--"

She waves me off. "You're going to kill me, so I'm going to go ahead and apologize before I'm murdered."

Confused, I watch her brush several wild curls out of her face as she sighs. "So sorry, but I could tell you liked Rod and you didn't want to admit it to yourself because he's...you know, kinda geeky."

My cheeks warm and I glance down.

"So, I wrote him a note," she slowly continues, "telling him I liked him, but I signed it from you."

My head shoots up and I narrow my eyes at Andy. She glances down, avoiding eye contact with me. "And I taped that rose to your locker; I wanted you to think it was from him."

I close my eyes and shake my head. The rose. I, somehow, completely forgot about the rose. I should've known. I should've have put two and two together- from the mysterious rose appearing on my locker, to Andy begging me to meet up with her for lunch and then suddenly ditching me so I'd be alone with Rodney- how did I not realize she was behind the whole thing?

"Andy!" I exclaim, opening my eyes. "I can't believe you did all of that. Do you know how sneaky that is? And also, a little...sick?"

She blinks back at me. "Sick? I thought it was kind of sweet of me."

"So, all this time," I say, "Rodney's been thinking that he and I are... you know, are, um, together?" Even just saying the words "he and I are together" is making me blush. How am I going to manage going on an actual date with him?

Andy shrugs, a half-smile on her lips. "Yeah. I knew you'd be good for each other. Was I wrong?"

As I look at my sister with her know-it-all smirk and huge, crazy hair, I can't help but return her smile. Andy might be the most meddlesome and neurotic little sister in the world, but she loves me in a way no one else ever will- and I have to admit that the feeling is mutual.

#

#

# _The Showdown_

I can't believe Gia isn't murdering me after what I've just told her. In fact, she's smiling at me.

"I thought you'd be madder," I say.

"How can I be mad at you?" Still smiling, she shrugs. "You were just trying to help."

I nod slowly, processing this. My sister is a much better woman than I am; I've been a thousand percent passed pissed with her for butting into my life when I skip school and what not. But when I stick my nose into her life, how does Gia react? She's thankful. She says "you were just trying to help."

I sigh.

At moments like this, I wish I were more like Gia.

"Well." I clear my throat and open the Jeep's passenger door. "I'd better get in there and face the real Tessa Lyles."

Gia nods and starts to open her door as well.

"Wait." I touch her arm. "You've been through a lot today and I was actually thinking that I can do this part on my own."

"And I'm actually thinking no way. I'm not about to let you face Ms. Greenich alone," Gia says, finality in her tone.

"Yeah, I thought not," I roll my eyes. But I also smile, because that's what I was hoping she'd say.

WE PASS THE school janitor, Mr. Wiggins, his car keys in hand as he saunters down SLH's otherwise empty corridor, headed for the exit doors. He offers me a nod and smile. "Staying late today, Andy?"

I glance ahead, at Ms. Karin's classroom door. It's ajar. A wave of fear washes over me and my nerves creep into my voice. All I'm able to say is, "Uh, yeah. Qapla', Mr. Wiggins," in a quiet and strained voice.

He chuckles. "Qapla' to you too, kiddo. Be good."

I nod, my gaze returning to Ms. Karin's door.

Be good? I might be too dead to be anything but ready for a body bag after this conversation with Tessa Lyles. I mean, how insane am I to do this? I'm about to face a crazy woman with super powers!

"I swear, you know everyone," Gia whispers. "I've never even noticed that guy before."

"He's the head janitor, he's worked here for ten years," I whisper. "Super nice guy. He speaks fluent Klingon."

"Fluent what?"

"Nothing." I shake my head and as Gia and I come to a halt in front of Ms. Karin's classroom, I take a deep breath.

"You sure you're ready for this?" Gia asks, nerves edging her tone.

Nope. But whether I'm ready or not, I need answers.

I nod, square my shoulders, and step into Ms. Karin's classroom.

She sits at her desk, her gaze on the door, like she's been expecting us.

She's wearing dark colors as usual; a dark denim skirt and a black blouse. Her brown hair is pulled into a neat bun and she looks like she wouldn't hurt a fly. I guess that's the look she's going for: innocence.

"Andy-" She starts to speak but I cut her off.

"Why'd you take my SD Card out of my camera?" I ask.

Ms. Karin blinks back at me and, for the first time, I realize just how good of an actress she is. Her expression is a perfectly executed imitation of feigned confusion. "What are you talking about?" she asks.

I ignore my nerves and walk towards her. "No more lies. We know that Karin Greenich isn't your real name."

She frowns. "I don't--"

"Don't lie!" I shout as I come to a halt.

Gia's footsteps sound behind me and before I can say another word, I feel her hand on my shoulder. A cautionary gesture. Ms. Karin's gaze shifts to Gia before returning to me.

The look of confusion leaves her expression and she exhales, both of her tiny nostrils flaring. "What proof of that do you have?" she quietly asks.

Good. It's about time she dropped the innocent act. But I'm still scared. After all, this is Tessa Lyles- the murderous mutant girl who wrote that diary...

My heart pounding, I say, "Who are you? And, trust me I already know, but I want to hear you admit it."

Ms. Karin's eyes narrow. "You don't have any proof."

"Yes, we do." I hold her gaze. "But I want to hear you say it."

Ms. Karin watches me carefully. I hold her gaze and try to hide the fact that my hands are shaking.

"What you think you have," she finally says, "has nothing to do with me. I don't know where you got your information from or why you assume it's connected to me. But I do know that you need to drop your little project. If you don't, bad things will happen."

A jolt of fear shoots through me. Is she threatening me? I take a step away from Ms. Karin and glance at my sister.

"Andy, that wasn't a threat," Ms. Karin says.

I clasp my trembling hands together. "Right," I want to say more, something dry and sarcastic. But I can't seem to get the words out.

Ms. Karin looks from me to Gia, her tone calm as she continues, "I would never threaten any of my students. But I will protect them, which is why I'm cautioning you to drop this."

"We understand, Ms. Greenich," Gia says. To my surprise, her tone is just as calm as Ms. Karin's. I look at my sister, impressed. There isn't a trace of fear in her expression as she faces Ms. Karin and says, "And we promise that we will drop it. But right now, all we want to know is if your real name is Tessa. That's all."

"Alright, fine. No," Ms. Karin shakes her head and lifts both of her hands in a gesture that says, 'this is ridiculous.' She looks from me to Gia, holding both of our gazes as she continues, "My name is not Tessa." With this, she stands. "And from now on, I don't want to hear another word about any of this."

"But, we know--" I start.

"You know nothing," Ms. Karin cuts me off, her voice firm. "And for your own good, you need to keep it that way. So, keep your promise and drop it."

"Never!" I shout.

Ms. Karin acts as if I haven't said a word. She walks past me, leisurely headed to the door.

I watch her stroll towards the exit, my nerves increasing and morphing into something beyond anxiety, something angrier. After everything we've been through -my Uncle going to Alabama, me reading and crying about the horrible things I.T.I.S. did to Tessa, and Gia witnessing a man's death today- after all of that, Ms. Karin can't just walk away from this conversation. We deserve answers.

"We know about I.T.I.S.," I call after her. "And if you think we're going to just let you--"

Gia touches my shoulder. "Stop, Andy. Let her go."

Ms. Karin leaves the classroom and I start to follow her, but Gia pulls me back. "Seriously, Andy, let her go."

This isn't just infuriating, it's confusing! I thought I knew what was going on, but now... now I don't know what to think. Is Ms. Karin telling the truth about not being Tessa?

I turn to my sister. "Do you think she's lying about her name?"

"No." Gia says, her expression grim. "She looked like she was telling the truth. And I think we should butt out, just like she said."

Interesting...

Without another word, I cross my arms and head for the door, Gia hurrying to follow me.

"What's that look?" she asks from behind me.

"What look?" I slow down to let her catch up with me.

"The look on your face like you've figured something out. And I'm hoping it doesn't mean you're planning on doing the exact opposite of what Ms. Karin said about dropping the whole thing..."

Gia keeps talking, and I don't bother cutting in to tell her she's right--I did just figure something out.

You know how they say, "If you can't decide, flip a coin. Because while the coin's in the air, the thing you hope reveals your decision?" Sometimes that's why I ask my sister for her opinion. Once she's said what she thinks, I suddenly know what I think...and right now, I think Ms. Karin is lying.

#

#  

#

#

# _The Truth_

"So," I pause to taste my toffee-caramel flavored ice cream as I follow Cara to the ice cream parlor's exit, "you didn't like the movie?"

Cara opens the door and I stop in my tracks to take another bite of my ice cream. As the sweetness of vanilla and almond toffee melts on my tongue, I nearly die of happiness. This is literally the best ice cream I've ever tasted.

"The movie was good. I guess I just have a lot on my mind," Cara says from in front of me.

Realizing that I'm just standing here inhaling ice cream while Cara's patiently holding the door open for me, I get my rear into gear and walk through the door. "Sorry, I zoned out there. This ice cream is so amazing it's making me lose track of time and space."

"Isn't it? I usually get the toffee too, but I thought I'd try something different today," Cara says before nodding to one of the nearby two-seater tables outside of the small parlor. "Want to sit for a moment?"

In the distance, a car honk is followed by the beeping sound of a vehicle backing up. Other than this, there's nothing but the rustle of wind whistling through the sidewalk's strategically planted trees and the songs of the birds in their branches.

I really like it here.

"Sure, outside's perfect." I take another greedy lick of my ice cream and slip into the nearest seat. More content than I've been in a while, I take a look at our surroundings.

Fairtowne is the kind of place that makes a person content. Even a person as complicated as me. It's a great place for lots of reasons; for one, it's not disgustingly full of people like New York City, which is the only other place I've been when I've come up north with my parents in the past. And secondly, Fairtowne is about a million times quieter and cleaner than New Orleans. Small and picturesque, it reminds me of one of those little towns the heroine of every Hallmark movie is from.

Right now, we're in the heart of the downtown area and we're surrounded by lots of cute little shops, all within walking distance of one another. I could totally live in a place like this! If Mom and Dad had ever bothered to bring us to Fairtowne to meet Aunt Cara, I would've fallen in love with both the place and my Aunt, and begged to come back at least every summer.

I still don't get why my parents never told me and Van that we have an Aunt. See how whack my mom and dad are? And they wonder why I am the way I am...

I lick my ice cream and glance at Cara. She's watching me. But as soon as our eyes meet, she looks away. I should be used to that by now; it's happened at least a hundred times within the past two days. Had the staring been done by anyone but Aunt Cara, I'd be creeped out. But, to be honest, I've been catching myself side-staring at her too; there's something fascinating about her.

"So, why couldn't you pay attention to the movie? How can you not pay attention to Robert Downy Jr.?" I ask.

She smiles. "I know, right? What's wrong with me? I guess I was thinking that...I wish..." Her voice trails off and she looks down at her little cup of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream.

"You wish what?"

Cara's eyes water, like she's on the verge of tears. Uh oh.

The wind whips up and I push my hair back so it won't fly into my ice cream. "Aunt Cara, what's wrong?"

She takes a deep breath and shakes her head. Picking up her spoon, she digs into her ice cream and offers me a shaky smile. "I guess I wish I'd known you before now. You're already sixteen. That's a lot I've missed."

"I feel the same way." I smile. "I wish I'd known you existed before, like, last week. I can't believe Mom never told me she had a sister. What's up with that? Did you guys have a falling out or something?"

Cara scoops up another spoonful of ice cream, but instead of eating it she plops it back into her cup and looks at me. "We had an agreement that I wouldn't contact her for eighteen years."

I shake my head in disbelief and lick more of my ice cream. "No way."

"Way," Cara says so quietly that I can barely hear her.

"Why would my Mom make you agree to that? That seems kind of crazy."

Instead of answering me, Cara looks to her right, like she's staring at something across the street. I turn to look across the street and all I see is a hardware store on the corner.

Um...okay.

"I can show you why," she finally says, returning her attention to me. "But you might not like me after you see it, and that's not what I wanted to happen during your visit."

"I doubt anything's going to make me dislike you; we're family." I snort to highlight this and then devour the remaining stub of ice cream on my cone.

While I'm pigging out, I keep my eyes trained on Cara. I watch her face fall. Clearly, everything's alright. And I mean "alright" in the Whovian sense of the word.

I stop licking my ice cream and internally freak out. What did I say to make her look so sad?!

I start to apologize, but before I can get a word out, Cara nods and says, "Okay, we can walk there."

"Oh, it's a place?" I ask, watching Cara's face carefully. Her eyes are downcast, like she's afraid to look at me.

"Yeah." she says, and she looks so depressed that's it's actually beginning to make me depressed. Funny how emotions are contagious.

"Is it a gravesite?" I slowly ask as I decide to toss the rest of my cone. As much as I want to finish it, I can't. How can I go to town on the world's best ice cream while the person sitting across from me is becoming more and more miserable by the second?

"No." She glances down at her ice cream. "I might as well throw this away."

"Let me." I reach across the table and grab it.

Once I throw away her nearly full cup of ice cream and the remnants of my cone, we start down the sidewalk.

Cara slips her hands into the pockets of her denim capris and I glance at the tattoo on her shoulder blade. She's wearing a white tank top and I can see it more clearly now. It looks like a Chinese character.

"What's your tattoo say?" I ask.

Cara's eyes light up. "That's actually a perfect place to start."

"Good, glad I could help." I grin.

She points ahead. "We're going to cross left at the walkway."

I nod and watch her expectantly.

She repositions both of her hands in her pockets and moistens her lips before speaking. "I got it when I was a little younger than you, fifteen. It all started because my dad wanted me to see where he was from. So the three of us--him, Mom, and me-- we went to Puerto Rico for vacation."

I watch Cara carefully. Her olive skin is a bit red at her cheeks and I think this is because she's blushing. She glances at me and I smile encouragingly. "So, how was Puerto Rico?"

She takes a deep breath. "Um...amazing. We were there for three weeks and I...I met Isaiah Cruz, the son of one of my father's friends. Isaiah and I, we got along well, to put it mildly. We went surfing together literally every day and I don't think I've ever had so much fun. He was--it was--incredible..."

Aw, she must have fallen in love.

I grin. That's the way I get when I'm talking about Heath--I can't even finish my sentences.

"What was Isaiah like?"

Her eyes soften. "Funny, sweet, impulsive, and he liked to talk about everything. If he thought it, he said it; if he felt it, he shared it. He was very... free." Her eyes glisten with wetness and my heart sinks. It looks like her story is about to take a sad turn.

"Where is he now?" I slowly ask.

Cara hesitates, chewing on her bottom lip. Finally, she says, "Still there, but married."

"Oh." I sigh in sympathy. "That sucks."

"Well, anyway." She clears her throat. "That summer we got tattoos. Isaiah's on his right shoulder, mine on my left. His says 'summer' and mine says 'love.'"

I grin. "Cara, that's so sweet. I bet he still thinks about you."

"Maybe," she replies, her voice low.

Neither of us says a word. In the distance, a loud car honk cuts into our silence. I'm not sure what to say.

Cara points to the crosswalk and says, "Let's turn here."

We cross the street and she doesn't say much of anything else, about Isaiah, or her tattoo or...anything. I steal a peek at her as we pass the hardware store, and she's got her gaze set on a three-story brick building just past the store.

"So, wherever you're bringing me has something to do with Isaiah Cruz?" I ask.

She nods and purses her lips as she comes to an abrupt halt. I, likewise, pause mid-stride and watch Cara take a deep breath.

"Here we are." Her voice is barely above a whisper.

I follow her gaze to the large brick building, my eyes roving to its sign: Fairtowne Orphanage.

My stomach turns, dread filling my thoughts.

Why is she bringing me to an orphanage?

I swallow my anxiety and follow Cara up the stairs that lead to the front door.

"This place has been here for a long time," she speaks quietly. "It's one of the best orphanages in the country."

A part of me wants to scream, "Why are you bringing me here?" and another part of me wants to pretend like there's nothing weird about this. I grip the railing and continue my ascent to the front door.

Cara tucks her hair behind her ears and reaches out to open the heavy door. As I follow her into the building, cool air rushes in on me and the hairs on my arms stand on end.

"It's cold in here," I mutter, glancing around at the old fashioned foyer. Beneath my feet, the floors creak and I look down. They're wooden, just like the paneling on the walls.

Cara glances at me, but turns away before I can meet her eyes.

I follow her past a door labeled "Main Office." On our right, a small wooden table, littered with pamphlets on adoption, is situated against the wall.

Oh, God.

My stomach sinks and I feel like I need to pee... or maybe even throw up.

"Why are we here?" I finally manage to ask, my gaze going to a multitude of framed portraits arranged on the nearby wall. Every image--a portrait of a smiling man or woman--has a name underneath it. A small sign just above the center of the row of pictures says, "Fairtowne Success Stories." I look at each of the smiling faces, realizing they must be adults who spent the majority of their childhood at Fairtowne Orphanage.

"We're here, because..." Cara pauses.

Here it comes.

Cringing, I start to turn to her when one of the portraits catches my eye, and I gasp, shocked.

"Via?" Cara asks. "Are you okay?"

All I can do is gawk at the picture of Karin Greenich that's on Fairtowne Orphanage's wall. I take a step closer, examining it to make sure I'm not mistaken.

The familiar dark hair, dark eyes, long nose, and high cheekbones belong to none other than Karin Greenich. This is confirmed by the name underneath the picture "Karin Greenich."

I turn to my aunt. "Why's my drama teacher's picture here?"

Cara blinks, confusion in her eyes. "I don't know. Maybe she was a Fairtowne orphan."

"Wow." I shake my head. "This is crazy; I have to tell Gia."

"Via," Cara says, urgency in her tone. "I'd like to explain why I brought you here."

I turn away from Ms. Greenich's picture and face my aunt.

She shifts on her feet and clasps her hands together as she exhales. "Sixteen years ago," Cara's speech falters. She seems to be having difficulty breathing. Her chest rises and falls in quick succession. She clears her throat and finally continues, "Sixteen years ago, exactly nine months after I left Isaiah in San Juan, I came here with our little girl because I thought I was too young and...and scattered to take care of her. I had a problem with drinking and I...I was afraid I'd ruin her. But then when I..." Cara stops short and tears spill from her eyes. They fall to her cheeks, one big tear after another.

I feel like I'm falling too. My heart pounds as I say, "But then what?"

"I realized I didn't want to leave my baby with strangers. And I realized that just because I didn't get along with my older sister, that didn't mean she wouldn't make a good mother. Lien was mature, wealthy, and she and her husband wanted another child." Cara's voice shakes as much as her hands. I, meanwhile, process her every word, listening to it echo in my head. "So, I let Lien and her husband raise my little girl."

"Me?" I hear myself ask.

Cara nods and starts to reach for me, but stops herself, drawing back. "Via, I'm so sorry. I've always loved you. Always."

I take a step back and lean against the wall for support. My thoughts go to our pictures at home, the pictures on Mom's computer. There are photos of me and Van as toddlers, infants even, pictures of Mom, her belly fat when she was pregnant with him...but no pictures of her pregnant with me.

This makes sense.

I stare at the door across from me.

This makes so much sense. The way I've always been different from Van, the way I can never be like Mom no matter how hard I try. Van. He's not my brother, he's my cousin. Jesus.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath.

This is...I don't even know. It's a lot. Too much.

I open my eyes and turn to Cara--wait a second, am I supposed to call Cara Mom? I can't do that. But she probably doesn't expect me to--that'd be crazy.

Cara's eyes are wide and she looks scared as I ask, "What do you mean you loved me? You didn't even know me."

"You were mine for nine months," she says, her voice wavering. "And I loved sharing my life with you, but I was scared. I hid it from Isaiah, from my parents even--they didn't know. I wanted you, but I knew I couldn't give you what you deserved. Not with my problems. Mom -your grandmother- had even kicked me out of her house. My drinking had become too much for her to deal with. But Lien and her husband were secure. They were rich and Lien loved you the moment she saw you. They both did."

Loved me the moment they saw me?

I imagine Cara handing my parents a tiny newborn, and for the life of me, I can't picture the look on my mother's face as she holds me. Did she really love me the moment she saw me?

Cara's hand trembles as she wipes her eyes. "For the past sixteen years, I've thought about you every day."

She's standing here crying and all I can do is watch because I don't know what I'm supposed to say or even feel.

On the one hand, I think I should hug her to lessen some of her guilt. On the other hand, it seems appropriate to get out of here and leave Cara alone with her guilt because it's deserved--she left me.

But to be honest, I don't think I'm angry. It's more like I just don't understand...any of this. Stuck in the uncertainty of a feeling I can't put my finger on, I stare at Cara's tear streaked face and notice that we have the exact same nose.

Does she speak Spanish? Should I learn Spanish?

I'm part Puerto Rican. Wait a second, what am I? Am I Asian or Hispanic?

I close my eyes and laugh.

When I open them, Cara's staring at me, her eyes wide and her mouth, open.

"Don't worry," I say. "I'm not mad, just confused. Like, I've never been this confused in my entire life. I think...I think we need to talk about this, uh, in more detail."

She nods and wipes her eyes. "I agree."

I take a deep breath and glance at Ms. Greenich's picture as we head to the door.

"Via," Cara says.

"Yeah?" I pause and wait for her to catch up.

Once she's beside me, Cara pushes her hair out of her face and says, "You asked me how I could love you without knowing you and I guess the answer is I don't know. All I know is that's the way it works when you have a daughter. I wasn't exaggerating; I loved you. I still do."

I study Cara's eyes and it looks like she's telling the truth. "Okay," I quietly reply.

She offers me a nervous smile. I return it, but it feels funny. Honestly, I don't know what to make of my jumbled feelings. I wasn't exaggerating when I told Cara I've never been this confused in my entire life--but my gut tells me to at least listen to her side of the story. I nod to the door. "Do you want to go somewhere and talk?"

"Yeah, that's a great idea," she agrees, appearing to relax a bit more.

We open the door together, and step out of the cold.

#

#  

#

#

# February, 2015

# Swamp Rose, Louisiana

When the lunch bells ring, every hallway in South Louisiana High goes berserk.

There's shoving, yelling, making out, crying, throwing footballs, becoming a human football, and yes--this is all happening in the hallway.

That's why I generally do my best to avoid in depth conversations with friends and acquaintances until after I've exited the hallway. But today, Rodney and I struggle to hear each other over our classmate's chaos as they make the mad (literally "mad") dash to lunch.

"What did you say?" he shouts while we approach the stairs.

I walk around the unavoidable sight of a kissing couple. Heat rushes to my face and my armpits make like a thousand fire ants are biting them. I try to ignore the itching of my pits as we start down the stairs.

Last night was our fifth date and still no kiss. I'm beginning to wonder if Rodney doesn't like me as much as he used to. This morning I mentioned as much to Elizabeth and she laughed. She says I'm crazy for even thinking that; she claims that Rodney's feelings for me are written all over his face.

That relieved me for an iota of a second. But then I started thinking about how on TV, when a guy likes a girl he does everything he can to kiss her and he definitely doesn't wait until their sixth date. So, I'm not entirely convinced that Rodney's feelings for me haven't waned.

I clear my throat and raise my voice to be heard above the hallway's noise, "I said there was something about Robert Downy in that movie that reminded me of Heath."

"Really?" Rodney glances at me as we make our way down the stairs. "His addiction issues maybe?"

I chuckle. "Possibly. Of course Robert Downy beat his; Heath's still working on that."

"Speaking of Heath, how's Via?"

I suppress a grin and steal a peek at Rodney. In spite of his seemingly lessening interest in me, my feelings for him have only increased. Especially after last night's date. Before the movies, we went to dinner and I spent a whooping seventy-five percent of our dinner talking about Via's adoption news and even crying a little...okay, a lot. But Rodney didn't seem to mind and after my millionth time apologizing for hogging the conversation and crying like a blubbering fool, he told me there was no need to apologize. He was incredibly patient and kind- and now he's asking me about Via again. It's as if Via's importance to me makes her important to him.

"She's dealing with it. She's just trying to get to know her mom," I say.

"I can't imagine how she must feel. And--" Rodney looks at me and sees that I'm grinning. He smiles. "What's so funny?"

Embarrassed, I shake my head. "Nothing."

He gives me a long look and with those deep brown eyes on me, I blush like a fiend.

"Um," I clear my throat, fumbling for something to say that will stop him from having to look at my crawfish red face. Fortunately, as we approach the last stair I spot my friend Latonya. I point to her and exclaim, "Look, there's Latonya!" As soon as my foot touches the first floor, I make a beeline for her and shriek, "Hey!"

"Uh, hey?" She looks at me like I have two heads. "Why are you so happy?"

"Hey, Tonya," Rodney says, walking up behind me.

At the sight of Rodney, her frown disappears and she shoots me a grin while we move towards the exit doors. "Now I know why you're so happy."

Eager to avoid more inadvertent crawfish imitating, I notice Latonya's empty hands and change the subject. "Looks like you forgot your lunch again."

"Yeah, I knew you'd have my back."

"Actually," I say, "I didn't bring a sandwich to share today."

Her eyes widen. "Since when do you forget your lunch?"

"She didn't; I brought it for her," Rodney says with an endearingly timid smile.

That shyness of his still hasn't gone away... well, at least I know I still make him nervous. Elizabeth says this is a good thing, and I suppose she's correct. I've had to trust her judgment on these kinds of things seeing as Via is temporarily out of pocket.

"Aw, that's so sweet, Rod." Latonya smiles at him approvingly. She nudges me and says, "I need one of him."

"I'm not that great." Rodney chuckles.

"Actually, he is that great," I say.

"I'm going to go grab lunch from Blake's sister; she always brings enough for the whole school," Latonya announces before pushing through the exit doors that lead to the front steps. "Meet y'all on the front lawn."

"Okay," I call over my shoulder.

I turn back to Rodney and he's still looking at me. I think he has been for a while because when I catch him he grins a bit stupidly and turns away from me to look straight ahead, as if I've embarrassed him.

Hmm.

Maybe he did want to kiss me last night, but he was too shy to make a move.

"So," I say, elbowing him, "what were we talking about? I forgot."

As we take the few stairs that lead to SLH's front lawn, a breeze picks up and I smooth down the front of my sundress, keeping it from blowing up.

His eyes dart to my dress, before returning to mine and a goofy grin twists his mouth while he stammers, "I think we were talking about, um...uh...the adoption. Via's."

Rodney's ears have turned red.

Good Lord, I don't think I've ever had this kind of effect on anyone.

"Oh yeah," I say, lacing my hands together as we take the last step down. Rodney shifts his lunch bag to his other hand and our arms brush.

He responds by moving away from me.

Elizabeth's right: he does like me. But it's like his shyness makes him nearly afraid of me. Why is he so shy? I study Rodney, as if his face will provide the answer.

His skin is perfectly smooth and even more unblemished than mine. Sometimes, when he's talking I find myself imagining what it would feel like to run my hand along the curve of his cheek and then kiss him. And I don't think I'm the only girl at school who engages in such fantasies.

Ever since my sister worked her miracle and got Rodney to ditch those horrible glasses and trade in his old wardrobe for nicer clothes, I've seen other girls checking him out. If I notice them ogling him, he has to notice and realize how cute he is. So, why is he still so unsure of himself?

"Gia?" Rodney touches my shoulder and pauses in stride. "You okay?"

Oh, I've been staring at him. "Yeah. Why?"

"You spaced out for a second." He smiles with sympathy. "You must be really worried about her."

"Worried about who?" I point to our usual bench. "Can we sit?"

"Sure." He nods but arches an eyebrow in, what seems to be, confusion. We start towards the bench and he says, "I meant Via's adoption news."

"Hmm," I eloquently reply as I watch him take a seat on our bench.

I really want him to feel comfortable around me, because this is silly! Our attraction is mutual and we're close enough--physically and emotionally--to act on it.

Rodney opens his lunch bag. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yes." Clasping my hands together in my lap, I take a deep breath and say, "Rodney, I was thinking, I have some free time before I have to meet Via at the airport tonight, so, what if you and I hang out? We could watch Dr. Who at my house or we could go to dinner."

He grins like he's won the lottery and my heart lifts.

He retrieves two sandwiches from his bag and hands one to me. "Yeah, how about dinner? At Lorraine's, unless... do you want to try another place?"

I shake my head. "You decide."

Looking down at the sandwich he's given me, I smile.

Actually, I guess it's okay that Rodney's shy. He doesn't need to change for me or anyone else. But that doesn't change the fact that if I have to wait much longer for a kiss, I might lose my mind.

I touch Rodney's arm. "Hey."

He looks at me, expectant. "Yeah?"

My heart racing, I say, "If I kissed you right now, would that bother you?"

Rodney grins and shakes his head. "No, Gia. That would not bother me."

We lean towards each other and butterflies fill my stomach.

I've learned a lot these past few weeks. I've learned that just as a seemingly sleepy town can hide deep secrets, a supposedly awkward boy can turn out to be Prince Charming.

Rodney closes his eyes and I close mine.

But most importantly, I've learned that life is a million times more enjoyable when you stop trying to control it and learn to live it.

Our lips meet and I drop my sandwich.

When I open my eyes, I see that Rodney's caught it.

Nice.

#

#

# February, 2015

# Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta International Airport

I cradle my chosen book in my arm and glance at my phone to check the time. 3:18

Good. I still have about thirty minutes before my flight leaves.

I start to slip my phone back into my purse when it buzzes.

It's Heath. Again. I tense and come to a standstill.

This is the fourth time he's called since this morning's "Dear John" conversation.

I stare at my phone, guilt and desire fluttering through me. Would it be so bad if I answered? I move my thumb to the "Answer" option.

If I take his call, sure, I'll probably end up regretting everything I said this morning...I'll probably end up telling him I was wrong about my decision to extend our "break." And that would be self-sabotage.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath.

He drinks too much. He's self-centered and horribly spoiled. And do I love him so much that I would probably take a bullet for him? Yep. But would being with him do any good for either of us right now? Nope.

I open my eyes, slide my phone into my purse and stroll up to the airport bookstore's register. My phone is still buzzing. Determined to ignore it, I set my book on the counter with a thud.

The cute bookstore clerk looks a bit startled as he glances at the book and then at me.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to attack your counter," I smile

"No worries." He grins. "Is this all for you today?"

"Yep. This is all."

"Okay," the clerk gives me another devastating grin.

I am, in turn, devastated.

I sigh in annoyance.

First, Heath and now this?

Honestly, I noticed this clerk as soon as I walked in. How could I not? It's impossible to overlook a ruggedly handsome guy with smoldering eyes and a deliciously inked physique.

But noticing a flower isn't the same thing as stopping to sniff it or, like, picking it and bringing it home with you. So, I'm okay. I'm still in control. There has been no sniffing or picking... yet.

To keep it that way, I summon my self-control and avert my gaze to my purse. Instead of locking eyes with the hot clerk, I focus on grabbing my wallet. Once I have my wallet ready, I bite down on my bottom lip to stop myself from asking about his tattoos.

He points to my new book, one of his long fingers half covering part of its title as he reads it aloud, ""What Motivates Me."" He grins. There it is again. Devastating. "This is such a great book. It changed my life."

"Yeah?" Surprised, I give him a second look. The thought of this guy, with his neck tattoo and "bad-boys-don't-sleep" bags shading the rims of his eyes, I wouldn't think he'd be caught dead reading a self-help book.

"What?" He laughs at my expression. "You think I'm not the type to read this sort of thing?"

I smile. "I didn't say that."

He points to the ink on his neck and arms. "Don't let these fool you. I lived in this book for, like, six months."

"Really?" My curiosity piqued. I watch him scan the book's barcode. "What made you decide to read it?"

"My Life Coach recommended it."

"Your Life Coach?" I slowly repeat.

"Yep. She knew what she was talking about too. It was amazing."

I stare at him while he bags the book. "I didn't know real people hired Life Coaches," I blurt.

He smiles and arches an eyebrow at me. "Real people?"

"People who aren't, like...Gwyneth Paltrow. You know, non-celebrities."

"Sure, yeah. Lots of regular people hire Life Coaches."

"Oh." I drum my fingers on the check-out counter, considering this. A Life Coach...? I've been tossing around the idea of asking Mom if she and dad would see a therapist with me, the three of us. But every time I've mentally played that conversation through, I see Mom being offended when Dad says no because of how left out it would make Crystal feel -and then they start to argue. So, maybe it would be a better idea to just ask my parents to hire a Life Coach for me.

"In my case," the clerk's voice pulls me from my thoughts and I return my attention to him. My new book already bagged, he sighs and fold his arms across his chest. I allow myself a brief glance at the tats on his biceps. Very nice. I gulp and force my focus to his words.

"I got to this point in life where all I did was make bad decisions," he says. Sadness creeps into his eyes and he shakes his head. "Drugs, stealing, getting myself arrested too many times to count. You name it, I was into it. And I knew things were spinning out of control, but I didn't know how to get back to who I really was. And I was too ashamed to ask for help."

I nod. I've never done drugs or anything to get myself arrested, but I can relate to feeling like you're so out of control that you don't even know who you are.

"So, what changed?" I ask.

"My best friend died from an overdose," he speaks quietly and glances down at the counter.

My heart sinks. "Oh, my God. I'm so sorry."

"Yeah, it sucked," he says, his voice low. "At that point, when my step-mom gave me a Life Coach's phone number, I was desperate enough to ditch my pride and contact her. I gave it a shot and I'm glad I did."

"So, the Coach really helped you?" I ask.

"She saved my life." He nods. There's a moment of awkward silence as he unfolds his arms and gives my bagged book a pat, as if it's a puppy. "Well, now that you've heard my life story, that's eighteen dollars even."

I smile and hand him my card. We say nothing while he swipes it and hands me my receipt. But as soon as the receipt is in my palm we're both speaking at the same time.

"Do you-"

"Do you maybe want to-"

I laugh and he does too. He gestures to me. "Ladies first."

"Thanks." I grin and take a deep breath. I'm actually kind of nervous to ask him this. I shift on my feet and force the question from my lips, "Do you think she'd mind if you gave me her number? The Life Coach?"

He smiles. "Course not."

He writes her contact information on a piece of paper, and without looking up says, "I was going to ask if, maybe, I could get your number. Like, I could call you some time to find out what you think about the book..." his voice trails off as he hands me the paper.

I figured this was coming.

I smile and stash the paper in my purse. "That's so sweet and I'm super flattered. But I just... I can't right now." I point to my new book. "See this? I'm buying it because I'm a mess and I don't want to be. And, just so you know, you're really cute. And if I wasn't such a mess I would have asked you for your number the second I walked in here."

He blushes. "Woah. Okay, noted and thanks. But, I understand..." he smiles and shrugs. "I had to at least try."

Ugh. Would it really be so bad to give him my number?

No, Via. No.

I grab my new book and back away from the counter. "Thanks again for the Life Coach's number." With this, I leave the store as quickly as I can.

Hormonal-based crisis averted and my brand new book safely tucked away with my carry-on luggage, I rush towards my gate.

I glance at a clock on a nearby wall and inadvertently catch the eye of an elderly suitcase-wielding woman who looks me up and down, her gaze settling at my skirt. She scowls in distaste. I ignore her and focus on the clock. 3:32.

Gia's just getting out of school for the day. And my plane is, like, a few minutes away from taking off. I quicken my pace, but a smile makes its way to my mouth as I imagine my best friend walking SLH's halls, hand in hand with her new boyfriend. I can't believe Gia has a boyfriend. And Rodney Parker, out of all people. Apparently, today she finally kissed him. She texted me, like literally, ten seconds after it happened. I was actually face-timing with Cara when she texted me.

I frown, wondering what Cara's doing right now. Probably crying. She cries a lot. On the other hand, she also laughs a lot. She's kind of a volcano of emotions. She sits on them for a while- but you can see them simmering below the surface of her almost-serene exterior, mini-eruptions spouting here and there in the form of anxiety. But then, all of a sudden, when you least expect it, Cara's core erupts. That's when she'll start with the crying\- and it's so intense that it makes you cry too - or with the infectious laughter that's so powerful it lights up an entire room.

Now, I know where I get all of that from. I am emotional because my birth-mother is emotional.

Birth-mother.

Even just thinking that word is weird.

My frown gone, I reaffirm my grip on my new book.

My God, I'm going to have so much to discuss with this Life Coach...

As I finally reach my Gate, I check the screen above the nearby Flight Attendant's desk and according to it, my plane is late. I relax and claim a spot next to a nearby pillar. As I lean against the pillar, my phone buzzes.

I look at the caller ID.

Heath.

Of course it's Heath. Did I even need to check my phone to know that?

I stare at my phone as his name and picture light up my screen.

As much as I want to talk to him, I can't. Not yet. I have some growing to do. And so does he.

I slip my phone in my purse, ignore its buzzing, and take out my new book.

I open it to the first page and start to read.

#

#

# February, 2015

# Swamp Rose, Louisiana

While Kyle grabs her bookbag, I lean against a nearby locker, watching our herd of peers flee to the exit doors. I swear, SLH is a madhouse when the last bell of the day rings.

"What time do we meet you at the mall to film AniMalls?" Kyle asks as she closes her locker.

Squinting, I calculate how long it'll take me to Skype with Van and then start outlining my next idea for an episode. "I need about three hours to work on some stuff. So, let's say six o'clock."

"Sounds good," Kyle agrees. She looks around, leans towards me, and lowers her voice to a whisper. "Are we going to include the scene of me singing in this episode? Because I know what song I want to perform."

I grin. "Definitely. It's about time people heard that great voice you've been hiding."

Kyle smiles, but a flash of nerves appear in her eyes.

"Don't worry," I say. "You'll be amazing."

"You're right." She nods. And with this, the flicker of self-doubt has disappeared. That's what I love about Kyle. If she loses confidence, you can be sure it's only a momentary lapse. I wish more people were like that...

She slips her book bag on over her shoulders and rolls her eyes as she says, "I don't know why I get so nervous."

I shrug. "Even cheerleaders are human."

Kyle chuckles and just over the sound of her laughter I hear my sister's loud voice.

"Andy!" Gia shouts from a few feet in the distance, Rod walking beside her. I grin at the sight of them. I can't help myself. Seeing them together is a huge reminder of the fact that I can, on occasion, be a decent person. I need those kind of reminders! Especially after I've, say, passed Ms. Karin in the hallway and hissed, "Liar" loud enough for her to hear or after I've screamed at one of my actors for screwing up a line. A day full of doing things like that can sort of make you feel like a monster. But then I see Gia and Rod -two people who I set up- make googly eyes at each other as they stroll down the hallway and I remember that I'm not a complete monster, I'm just a work in progress...

"Why aren't you on the bus?" Gia shouts while Rod looks at her like she's some kind of goddess despite the fact that she's screaming at me. "Remember, I can't bring you home today. Go get on the bus!"

"Yeah, I know!" I return my attention to Kyle. "See y'all at six."

"Later, bubby." Kyle leans forward, giving me air kisses on both cheeks (which is so very strange and something that I still haven't gotten used to) before hurrying away.

I slip into the herd and make my way towards the bus. I push past a bunch of Via's exes (the football team) and head to the exit doors. My phone, stashed in my jacket pocket, begins to vibrate.

I grab it just as I hear the buses start their engines in the school's parking lot.

Crap! I might actually miss my bus!

Shoving my phone back into my pocket, I catch sight of my bus at the front of the line and run full speed towards it. I duck past a kissing couple, scoot around some idiot kid doing a handstand on the sidewalk, and run for the bus as fast as I can. Out of breath, I bang on the door just as it starts to take off.

The driver, an older lady named Ms. Crank, turns to me in surprise. She rolls her eyes, hits the brakes, and opens the doors.

"Thanks, Ms. Crank," I say, out of breath, as I climb into the bus and plop in the first available seat.

"Next time, I won't stop!" she shouts.

Ignoring her, I turn to my window and spot Ms. Karin making her way to her little black Corolla. Her hands are full as she struggles to balance a huge stack of scripts, a large purse, and car keys. I bet those scripts are for the upcoming play her Junior Class Talented Drama students are going to begin rehearsing next week. I'd wanted to help her with that play... but now there's no way I'm going to work with her again. Ms. Karin trips on a crack in the sidewalk and drops one of the scripts, along with her car keys.

I roll my eyes and shake my head. Her clumsiness, her whole 'mousey Theater teacher' look- it's all an act. And now that I realize this, it's opened my eyes to just how talented of an actress Karin Greenich is.

I watch Ms. Karin retrieve her fallen items and hop into her car. Our bus comes to an abrupt halt while Ms. Crank yells at the kids in the back rows to stop throwing things at each other. Throughout the yelling and commotion, I keep my eyes on Ms. Karin. I watch her start the Corolla's engine, pull out of her parking spot, and then brake as she puts on her left turning signal. She looks at Ms. Crank questioningly, her expression one of innocence. Ugh. Such. An. Actress.

Ms. Crank waves her on, and Ms. Karin replies with a gestured "thanks" before pulling out in front of our bus.

I roll my eyes.

What a fraud.

I mean, for obvious reasons, Ms. Karin and I don't talk like we used to, which means I haven't had the chance to observe her as much as I'd like. But now that I've had time to reconsider what I found in her closet and what I caught on camera, I've reassessed the facts:

The obvious facts are:

a. Ms. Karin has superhuman abilities--one of them invisibility.

b. Tessa Lyles was kidnapped by I.T.I.S. - a Swamp Rose based organization that experimented on her and endowed her with superhuman abilities

And last but not least,

c. Nearly half of the people in our town believe that we're protected by an invisible superhero named Unseen.

I'm kind of an idiot for not putting three and three together.

Ms. Karin is Tessa Lyles and she's Unseen.

I'm seventy-five percent sure of this. The only reason I can't say a hundred percent is because I don't have solid proof yet. But I am so on it! In fact, I'm in the process of devising a plan to follow Ms. Karin. I'm going to track her comings and goings, her conversations, her hobbies, her everything until I find undeniable proof that she's Unseen.

Ms. Crank turns onto the highway alongside our school and I glance out of my window to find that Ms. Karin is now beside us, driving in the next lane. I watch her, hunched and sitting super-close to the steering wheel. She's taken on the posture of a little old lady.

Good Lord... she even puts on the "mousey teacher" act when she's by herself in her car. That's commitment to a role.

My phone vibrates and I retrieve it from my jacket pocket. I've got two missed texts. As soon as I see that one is from Uncle Tim, I open it.

Do you still have that diary? I need it.

"OMG," I mumble. "He cannot be serious."

For the past month, Uncle Tim hasn't breathed a word about what he's found in Serenity Bayous and now when he finally texts me, it's not with answers, it's to demand that I hand over the diary?

Like I'm going to do that.

My fingers fly across the keys as I reply: Sorry, no can do. I'm not done reading the diary.

With this, I sigh and glance out of my window. Ms. Karin is still beside us, driving like a 90-year old woman instead of a psycho mutant with superpowers.

I shake my head and look down to read my other missed text. It's from my reporter friend, Kami Davis:

My team just got back from Peake. Peake's Unseen and our Unseen have a lot in common. Either copy cat or same person. Watch the news tonight for more info. Thx for the tip, I owe you.

My heart skips a beat while I reread Kami's text. I'm so enthralled that I barely notice our bus clip the curb as it turns onto Bienvenue Hwy.

Yep, I'm definitely right, Tessa Lyles is Unseen and Ms. Karin is--

Ms. Crank hits the brakes and my thoughts come to a halt. I'm slammed into the back of the seat in front of me.

"Hold on!" Ms. Crank shouts.

A kid behind me screams.

Confused, I pull myself up. I need to see what's going on.

My nerves spiking, I peer into the road ahead.

A green Honda heads straight for us. My blood runs cold as I brace for impact. The car, inches from our bus, is suddenly pushed away like it's been thrust backwards by a giant, invisible hand. At this, the Honda spins out and starts on a collision course with a tree.

"Oh, my God," I shout, staring at the car's seemingly empty driver's seat. "No one's driving that car," I shout. Squinting, I look again, to make sure I'm seeing clearly.

"Andy's right," the girl in the seat to my left exclaims. "No one's in the driver's seat!"

The Honda slams into a tree with an earsplitting crash. Glass and car parts fly everywhere. Ms. Crank orders everyone to calm down. But her shrill command does little to dissolve the shrieks coming from the students behind me. While Ms. Crank pulls over to the side of the road, my eyes remain on the crushed car.

I reposition myself to get a better look at what's happening.

Ms. Crank grabs her purse, her hands shaking. "Y'all be quiet while I call the Cops!" While she's speaking, a loud knock sounds on the bus doors and Ms. Crank opens them.

Ms. Karin steps onto the bus.

"I was just beside you on the highway," she says, wide-eyed and full of concern. "I saw everything. Are you alright?!" Her gaze goes from Ms. Crank to all of us. It stops at me.

I blink back at her, too dazed to even know what to think.

"I can't find my phone to call the Cops," Ms. Crank says.

Ms. Karin immediately returns her attention to the bus driver. "Here's mine," she says, handing Ms. Crank her phone.

"I'm going to go outside to make the call," Ms. Crank says, her voice shaky. She turns to us and yells, "Everyone remain seated," before virtually shoving past Ms. Karin to exit the bus. A few kids follow her, blatantly ignoring her instructions to stay seated. Ms. Karin doesn't bother to stop the disobedient kids who push past her.

For once, I'm not seizing the opportunity to break a rule. Instead, I stay glued to my seat.

It isn't that I'm Little Miss Obedient. And it isn't that Ms. Karin suddenly doesn't care about rules, it's that something strange has caught our attention. In the sky, just above the totaled Honda, a brilliant pink and red light appears.

I squint and shield my eyes as the light intensifies.

And then it disappears.

I blink into the clear blue sky.

Our bus is eerily silent. I can actually hear my every breath as it escapes my lips.

"Um," the boy behind me says, finally breaking the silence. "Did anyone else see that?"

"Yes," I quietly say.

"What was that?" he asks.

"That was Unseen," I say. As soon as the words leave my lips, I look at Ms. Karin.

She watches the sky, a look of wonder on her face.

I watch her, confused.

If Ms. Karin is here and Unseen is up there, then how can Ms. Karin be Unseen?

I take a steadying deep breath.

I need answers...

I watch Ms. Karin slowly step off of the bus and make her way to our bus driver.

Realizing that I'm holding my phone in a death grip, I release it and close my eyes.

Yeah. I definitely need some answers...And at this point, I don't care how dangerous I.T.I.S. is or how badly Ms. Karin wants to keep her secrets hidden. If it's the last thing I do, I will find answers...

I open my eyes and return my attention to Ms. Karin, watching her talk to my bus driver.

Whatever her connection is to Unseen, I'm going to figure it out.
Andy and Gia know that Ms. Karin Greenich has a mysterious past and an alternate identity. To find out more about Karin Greenich's secrets and her connection to I.T.I.S., read about South Louisiana High School from the perspective of a student named Drew Everett.

Against her will, Drew has abandoned her beloved home of Los Angeles, California and relocated to Swamp Rose, Louisiana. In Swamp Rose, Drew comes face to face with a masked vigilante called "Unseen" and with a culture unlike any she's ever known.

Drew's story, "Almost Famous" is book #3 within The South Louisiana High Series!

The South Louisiana High Series

**Identity - The Origin** **Story**

Karen, Nathaniel, & Tessa's Story

**Almost Friends - Book One**

Mia, Kyle, & Elizabeth's Story

**Almost Twins - Book Two**

Andy, Gia, & Via's Story

**Almost Famous - Book Three**

The Other LA- Drew's Story

**Almost Brave - Book Four**

Gina's Story

**Almost Human - Book Five**

Lanie & Silv's Story

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Thank you so much to SLH readers- these books are for you! And thank you to Melissa of Good Girl Editing- you are a lifesaver! Another huge thank you goes out to Rebecca Berto for the awesome cover and to E.M. Tippetts Book Designs for their formatting work! The SLH Series and I would be quite lost without any of the wonderful aforementioned individuals.

Questions or comments about The South Louisiana High Series?

Contact E. J. Mara using the form here !
