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throw the stupid phone against the wall, hoping it’ll break.
    A jolt of pain shocks me as I lean my sore forehead against the window pane.
    It’s dusk. A pink sky hugs silhouettes of treetops and telephone wires. Down below, next door, Cassie’s dad is putting out garbage cans on the curb. Just as he is about to turn around, Cassie’s mom comes up behind him, an empty bottle in her hand. She throws the bottle into the trash, then puts her arms around him. They stand there, hugging on the curb, for a long time.
    My throat gets tight.
    Cassie’s parents really, really love each other. I mean, to the point where Cassie thinks they forget she even exists. My parents used to smile at each other over breakfast. They even used to hold hands. Until I ruined everything.
    Cassie’s parents saunter back into the house arm in arm.
    Why can’t my parents be like that? How can they be, with you here, Sylvie?
    I think of Cassie instead.
    Why can’t I be like her ?
     

October 28 th
     
    The ambulance turns the corner, and its sirens fade as it races further away.
    I collapse on the sidewalk in front of my house. My chest is ready to burst and my head feels like it’s going to explode. “This isn’t happening this isn’t happening” runs on a loop in my brain. Oh, God. I’m going to be sick. I crawl to the curb on all fours and vomit into the street. I start bawling. The noise of it is low and rough.
    Behind my sobs, I hear Cassie come out her front door and run down the porch stairs. She’s screaming something over and over. It’s my name. No, it’s his. No, I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore. Oh, no, oh, hell.
    I sit up on my haunches and Cassie squats down next to me. Her face is pale and her eyes wild. Tears streak her face. Her nose is running. She swipes at it with the sleeve of her sweater. She’s bawling, too. And babbling. “Something happened to Sylvie. I don’t know what happened. I don’t understand. She just ... The emergency people kept asking about drugs. She doesn’t do drugs. We were just trying ...”
    Drugs. Could that be it? Maybe I’m tripping on something and I don’t even know what. Maybe for once I’m really hallucinating.
    Please, let me be hallucinating.
    But I know I’m not. I feel the hard concrete sidewalk under my feet and taste the salt of the tears that are running down my face. This face.
    The tears taste just like my own.
    I’m stiff. Numb. But I need to hold on to something. Someone. So I reach for Cassie and she lets me. We wrap our arms around each other. Cassie puts her head on my shoulder; her tears soak my sweatshirt. Her soft hair is like silk against my cheek. Her shampoo smells like coconut.
    I’m supposed to have silky hair, a tropical smell. Not, not ... this!
    Cassie’s body is solid against my own. She’s here. She’s real.
    Where is he?
    I don’t know. But I’m here. And I’m in him. And it’s real.
    “Help,” I whisper.
     

Seven
    August: TGIF ... or Not
     
    The first week of junior year isn’t any better than the first day.
    I was barely out for a minute in Art class when I fell, but it’s made for a good four days of entertainment. For everyone except me, of course.
    Psych Ward: 687-2222
    Someone’s taped the note to my locker. Hilarious.
    To add insult to injury, every time Kevin passes Cassie in the hall or the lunch line or the parking lot, his eyes lock on her like he’s hypnotized. And she seems to be enjoying the attention. But he’s not the only one to notice the new Cassie. Practically every guy in school walks past her panting.
    Normally, I’m a decent student. All A’s. But I suddenly can’t concentrate. For the first time in my life, my classes are a nightmare. In Trig I do my homework every night only to find out the next morning that I did it all wrong. Mimi Wilder raises her hand in excitement when Mrs. Zimmer asks a question, but Mrs. Zimmer likes calling on everyone. So, in the first week I’ve managed to give the