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me and had found some other stories of girls in situations similar to mine. One had even killed herself, the bullying had gotten so bad, and I found myself swallowing and swallowing while I read that story, hoping and praying that it didn’t get that bad for me. Hoping and praying that I wouldn’t one horrible day find myself wanting to end it all because someone had sought revenge for something I didn’t even do. All because somebody’s boyfriend or brother or husband had seen me naked. All because people were calling me names that didn’t describe me and saying things about me that weren’t true. All becausepeople were hating on me on message boards and websites and in the comments fields of news stories.
    My vision got blurry as I read through the articles. My throat felt dry and I wanted to go home. I didn’t even notice that Mack had gotten up from the semicircle and slid into his usual chair right next to me, gobbling a mini-doughnut, his fingers repetitively clicking the mouse like always.
    There was something about him that was mysterious, and kind of frightening, and clearly I wasn’t the only one who felt it. Everyone had gone silent when he’d simply spoken three words earlier. Kenzie and Amber had laid right off me. They’d walked away. They were tough, and clearly they were afraid of Mack. I took him in, from his mess of greasy curls to his ripped denim jacket to his filthy fingernails and huge thighs spread out over the chair. He looked like he could kill a person—the kind of guy you’d cross the street to get away from if he was walking toward you on the sidewalk.
    But there was something else about him, too. His eyes, maybe. How they’d looked at me the day of the conversation about regrets. They were bright and glossy, and his face was open and innocent. Under the bulk and the grease and the frowning, growling aura, he seemed… like he cared.
    I reached over and touched his sleeve very lightly. “Thanks,” I said. “For what you did earlier.”
    He didn’t answer, but for a moment his finger stopped clicking the mouse. It was a pulse, a beat, of acknowledgment, and after the pulse, he continued chewing his mouthful of doughnut and went back to whatever he was clicking on.

AUGUST
    Message 29
    WTF?! Why would someone do that?! Ur stupid.
    Kaleb and I met at the Halloween Ghoul Run 5K in the fall of my sophomore year. Per our team’s tradition, all the guys had dressed in drag. Kaleb was in a blue party dress, the short skirt shifting up with each step, showing a pair of black running shorts underneath. He was wearing a long blond wig and lipstick, but the wig had fallen off somewhere around mile two. I’d been running behind him, a zombie marathon runner, and I bent to pick up his wig and then carried it to the end of the run.
    I didn’t know him very well. He was a senior and I was a sophomore, and even though Vonnie hung out with tonsof seniors, I didn’t have that same fearlessness. He seemed so much older. And incredibly athletic. His Adam’s apple was prominent and his legs pure muscle, his hips small and square. I’d never seen him without a shirt on, but I guessed his abs were a six-pack.
    So my legs quaked and I felt like such a little kid as I held the wig out to him at the water station a few feet past the finish line. Despite my stopping to pick up the wig, I’d finished only three strides behind him.
    “Here,” I said, gulping in air, my other hand on my hip.
    He poured a cup of water over the top of his head, tossed the empty cup into the trash bin, and gazed at the wig as if he’d never seen it before. “Oh,” he said after a minute, his hand reaching up to rub his wig-free head. “Thanks.” He took the wig out of my hand and tossed it into the bin on top of the used water cup. A drop of water hung heavily on his eyelashes, and only then did I notice how clear and green his eyes were. I’d never been this close to him before. A sweaty, sunny smell radiated off of