Saving Zoë

Four

Even though it probably seems like Abby would’ve been the one to secure the good lunch table, it was Jenay who succeeded. Because in the world of cafeteria real estate, long blond hair, big blue eyes, a great smile, and a nicely filled out snug white T-shirt trumps the best laid plans of a future life coach every single time.

“It must be the jeans. They’re magic, that’s why they cost so damn much,” Abby says, sliding in next to Jenay and gawking at Chess Williams and the almost equally cute Parker Hendricks, who are sitting just mere inches away.

But Jenay just shakes her head and laughs. “Don’t forget that they’ve just been demoted to lowly freshmen in a sea of hot seniors. So technically, they’re lucky to be sitting by us” she whispers, smiling triumphantly.

I slide onto the end of the bench and unzip my lunch pack, curious to see what’s inside, and hoping it’s not the dreaded leftover meatloaf sandwich that only my mom could view as a logical choice. I mean, for someone with an I.Q. ranked firmly among genius, who makes her living as an academic (aka professional smart person), she just can’t seem to grasp the fact that some leftovers were never meant for cafeteria consumption or any other lunchtime scenario that doesn’t entail complete privacy, a bib, and the luxury of eating over a sink. But as I unzip the top and peek inside, I’m relieved to see the unmistakable tubelike shape of my favorite deli wrap sandwich and not a white bread monstrosity dripping with meat juice on my very first day.

I tear open my chips and fish one out, pretending not to notice how just about every single Bella Vista student sitting within a two-mile radius is totally staring at me. I mean, if I thought things were a little rough this morning in Honors English, American History, Geometry, and French, well, most of my fellow classmates went to school with me last year too, which means they’ve pretty much gotten an eyeful ever since it all began. But now, being surrounded by all of these people who used to know Zoë, who were friends with Zoë, or who, now that she’s gone,

like to pretend they were friends with Zoë, makes me feel completely naked and exposed. Like a regretful “life art” model being stared at and scrutinized as everyone takes it all in, draws it all down, and interprets everything they see in their own biased way.

And even though I kind of expected this, that doesn’t mean I can actually handle it. And there’s just no way I can finish my lunch with everyone whispering, pointing, and gawking.

So just as Jenay starts talking to Chess, so casually and easily you’d think she’d been at it for years, and Abby scoots even closer to Parker — who she’s secretly crushed on forever — I rise from the table and move for the door, hoping I can make it safely inside the bathroom before I start hurling.

It’s weird how you can hire a bodyguard to protect you from physical harm, yet there’s no one who can keep you from emotional harm. And as great as my friends have been, doing their best to shield me from everything they can, there’s just no way they can defend me from all of the prying eyes, pointed fingers, and loudly whispered, “Omigod! That’s her! You know, the little sister!” that follows me wherever I go.

I push into the empty bathroom, dump the contents of my lunch pack into the big green trash can against the far wall, then run cold water over my hands until the nausea passes. Then I smooth my hair, straighten my shirt, and head right back outside, and straight into Marc.

“Echo,” he says, his dark brown eyes peering into mine, as his pale slim hands clasp nervously at his sides. Up close, he seems thinner, and his hair looks darker, hanging long and loose around his angular face. But he’s still amazing, only different. Less contrived, more authentic, yet also kind of lost.

I just stand there, smelling the nicotine wafting off of him, remembering how it was Zoë who got him started.

And just as he opens his mouth to speak, Abby runs up and grabs hold of my shirt. “Echo! Hey! Let’s go,” she says, tugging on my sleeve and pulling me away.