It's the same kind of look he always gives her--intense and longing, like he really believes he loves her. Like he'll be back one day to prove how much.
I walk over to Drea and hug her.
"I'm sorry," she says.
"I'm sorry too."
I close my eyes and press her into me, feel her fingers touch my back, then press against me to return the hug. For just a moment, I imagine Maura in my arms.
"Thank you," I whisper into her ear.
"Thank you," she whispers back.
I shake my head, grateful that Drea is safe, but also grateful that my real nightmare has finally ended.
thirty-fiv-e
Three months later--just before February vacation and just after the trial. Drea has come back to campus to testify She ended up going home immediately after Donovan's arrest and spent the time getting herself back together and trying to make sense of what doesn't seem possible.
Now that she's back and things have somewhat settled, Amber, Chad, PJ, and I have planned a sort of get-together at the Hangman Cafe.
No one seems surprised that it was Donovan stalking Drea. Everyone knew how crazy he was for her--literally. The only surprising part for most is that Veronica really was involved, that a ridiculous plan to get some guy could result in her own death.
It turns out I was right to be suspicious of Veronica's stalker story. Like Donovan said, Veronica wasn't getting stalked at all. But she heard Drea was and wanted to scare her. Basically, she was supposed to be leaving campus to go on a two-week safari with her parents, a trip she conveniently failed to tell Drea or anyone about. Not so coincidentally, she was supposed to be leaving for the trip the morning after she said the stalker was coming for her. In a nutshell, she wanted Drea to go completely freakazoid and either flip out or leave campus when she thought Veronica was taken--a foreshadowing, basically, of what would happen to her.
Totally and completely sad.
But just as sad is that Donovan got completely pissed when the scuttlebutt about Veronica and Drea getting stalked by the same person got to him. He was the one who stuffed the MIND
YOUR OWN BUSINESS note, along with Drea's handkerchief, into Veronica's mailbox. It turns out Donovan included Drea's hanky with the note as a sort of signature token--so Veronica would know it was from Drea's stalker, so she'd take it seriously and drop her whole stalker story. Giving Veronica the hanky also put Drea's possession into Veronica's room. So, as the prosecuting attorney suggested, if something happened to Drea, Donovan would have someone to pin it on.
Twistedly clever, I suppose.
The note and hanky did work in freaking Veronica out, which is why she told us she no longer wanted anything to do with the whole stalking business. But, unfortunately, the scuttlebutt didn't die. Which only pissed Donovan off even more. Using Chad's e-mail account, just like he used it to send Drea -The House that Jack Built- e-mail, he lured Veronica into the school to confront her about her stalking tales, but ended up killing her by accident, he swore.
And the jury believed him.
They also believed him when he said he never intended to physically harm Drea. The stalking, as he and his lawyer asserted, was a way for him to get close to Drea. And, when Drea seemed okay to talk to his mysterious phone-caller persona, Donovan started to confuse their relationship and got all possessive about it, including getting angry and jealous when she made plans with Chad.
He was the one who took Chad's hockey jersey from our window that night, who stuffed it into Chad's mailbox along with the STAY AWAY FROM HER. I'M WATCHING YOU note. He was also the one who stole our laundry from the washroom. When he saw Drea's hanky and bra sitting atop the heap, he just collected it all, in hopes of finding more Drea relics to add to his collection.
On the night that Drea was taken, after the hospital, when Amber and PJ dropped her off in front of the dorm, Donovan was waiting for her. He told her he needed to talk about something and so they went for a walk. Basically, he brought her to the construction site, his idea of a romantic place, and professed his undying love for her. She got weirded out and ended up telling him she wanted to go back to the dorm.
Donovan said no, nabbed her, but then freaked and didn't know what to do when she didn't seem pleased with his plans for happily-ever-after--hence the defense that his actions weren't premeditated.
The lilies, ironically, were chosen simply because Donovan liked them and thought their charm and elegance best represented Drea. And "The House that Jack Built" e-mail was just a little riddle, a foreshadowing basically of the romantic rendezvous he had planned for them.
When he saw me in the woods the next night in search of Drea, he panicked and made up that bogus story about someone following us and not being able to get his cell phone to work. Afraid that I might spot Drea at the construction site, he told me to stay put, made up that excuse about checking things out, and then went and hid Drea in the porta-john.
In the end, he was charged with involuntary manslaughter, labeled temporarily insane, and sent to a juvenile detention center for mentally disturbed boys. Still, freedom only five years away, on his twenty-first birthday, just doesn't seem fitting. Veronica will be dead forever.
A-*1 After the arrest, Officer Tate gave me this big, long lecture about getting involved where I have no business, how dangerous it was that I went into the forest by myself, and how I could have jeopardized everything, including the case. But then she also thanked me, told me how brave I am, and promised she'd never underestimate natural human instinct again.
Neither will I.
So now, after the trial, the school has agreed to accommodate us by allowing the Hangman to be closed for our private farewell, and supplying us with unlimited cafe fare.
280
We've decorated the room as cheerfully as possible. Chad and PJ have hung pink and yellow streamers around the perimeter while Amber and I have layered, bunched, and twisted pieces of crepe paper together to make roses as centerpiece decorations. The school is even letting us borrow the helium machine to fill balloons that we've tied to everyone's chair.
It isn't a surprise party; it's just an opportunity for all of us to get together before Drea goes back.
She's going to spend the rest of the school year at home, with private tutors and in family counseling, then come back for senior year.
I know I'm going to miss her more than anything, but at least I won't have to room by myself.
Madame Discharge has agreed to let Amber move in. That is, Amber says, if I stop my nasty bedwetting. But I haven't had an accident, or a nightmare, since the day before Veronica's death.
"Did we get her a parting gift?" PJ asks, his voice all high on helium.
"Good thing we didn't count on you for that," Amber says, stuffing her sweater with two balloons, admiring her busty profile in the window reflection. "What do you think?" She points the balloons in his direction and arches her back for show.
"Ain't nothing like the real thing, baby" he sings, then blows her a kiss.
Amber smiles and removes the balloons. The two of them have been spending a lot of time together these past few weeks, like the tension of the trial has bonded them in some way, made them realize what's really important. I think it's done that for all of us.
For Drea's going-away gift, we pooled our money to huy her a brand-new diary, like a new start on life, and a pound box box of Godiva chocolates, just in case of etnergerIcy. I also wrapped up the protection bottle, still intact.
-She's here!" Chad shouts.
Chad's really been great during this whole ordeal. went to the trial every day, called Drea every night at her hotel, even took extra notes and kept track of class assign_ ments while she was at home--classes he doesn't even take. What's surprising, even to myself, is that it didn't make rne jealous. It just made me realize more significantly what an amazing person he is.
-Oh my god!" Drea yelps on her way in. "You guys didn't have to do all this."
"Stacey ma
de us," PJ says, running his fingers over his cherry-red hair spikes.
We spend the next couple hours laughing and joking about all our fun times, before the stuff with Donovan ever started. Chad brings up the time when me, Drea, and Amber snuck out of the dorm after hours and went to the movies, dressed in our pajamas. And then PJ does an impersonation of each of us--Amber, Princess Wedge-Picker; Chad, Master Slacker; Drama Queen Drea; and me, PsYchic Friend, mostly likely to open up my own twenty -our
-four-h
hotline. Of course we reciprocate the attention, making fun of his hair and his disgusting lunch concoctions.
After Drea has opened her gifts and the lastig ngerbread cookie is eaten, PJ and Amber kiss Drea goodbye and shuf_ fle off alone together, holding hands.
Chad turns to Drea. "I can walk you out."
"Can you just give Stacey and me a second?" Drea asks. He nods, collecting a stack of dirty plates off the table and bringing them out back.
Drea focuses on the protection bottle in her hands. "So you'll always be safe," I say.
We hug--a long, full squeeze--and try our best not to cry "I'll come visit this summer," I say.
Drea nods and looks toward the kitchen, where Chad is stacking dishes. "He's a great guy, you know"
"I know."
"He thinks you're pretty great too," she says. "He told me. He's always telling me. We've spent a lot of time together these past few weeks, him and me. It's been good just being friends. Easier.
Better. And as both of your friends, I think you guys owe it to yourselves to give it a try"
"Drea?!" A nervous, gurglelike laugh bubbles up from my throat.
"I love you both." She leans forward and kisses my cheek.
Chad helps carry Drea's last few bags into her parents' car, parked and waiting just outside. We stand outside, saying our last good-byes, promising to call, e-mail, and visit. And then her parents drive her away.
And there's just Chad and me.
"So," he says, "I guess it's just the two of us."
"I guess so."
He holds out his hand and I take it, and it feels like Christmas inside my palm all warm and tingly.
We walk past the Hangman, ignoring the mess inside, like cleaning up now would really put an end to the day, the last thing either of us wants. We find ourselves taking a turn by the tree where we kissed that first time, and sit down beneath it.
I lean back against the trunk and inhale the breath of winter--cool, fresh, and awakening. It makes me feel beautiful. The way the wind blows my hair back. The smell of bark, mixed with the chill in the air. It makes me happy to be going home for February vacation. Happy to take a break. To see Mom again. To start fresh.
"What are you thinking?" Chad asks.
"How happy I am," I say. 'And about déjà vu."
"Déjà vu?"
"You know. Already been seen. You and me, here again." "So, I guess for this to be true déjà vu, I'd have to kiss you again."
I nod, but this time it's me who kisses him. A five-alarm, hot wasabe, sexilicious kiss.
We kiss some more, and talk and laugh, until well after dark, when the full moon has made its appearance and the brightest star has gone to bed behind the clouds.
I feel stronger now than ever before. Not because of Chad and finding ourselves under this tree again. Not because of saving Drea, or seeing Donovan put away. But because I know that no matter how many nightmares I'll have in the future, I can finally trust myself.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I want to first thank members of my writing group--Lara Zeises, Steven Goldman, and Tea Benduhn--who have supported and encouraged me throughout numerous drafts of this novel.
Your friendship, advice, and thorough critiques have truly been invaluable to me. They've helped make Blue a better novel and me a better writer.
Ed, I think you must have read at least ninety-seven drafts of this novel. I can't thank you enough for your friendship, love, patience, and support.
I've been fortunate to have some truly inspiring teachers. Thanks to Lisa Jahn-Clough for her advice and encouragement and for helping to nurture my love of young adult literature and writing. Also thanks to Jessica Treadway for her support and enthusiasm for Blue. Finally, thanks to Dr. MaryKay Mahoney, who encouraged and believed in my writing in its early stages.
I truly believe that if it wasn't for that encouragement, I may never have seriously pursued my passion for writing.
Thanks to Llewellyn editors Megan Atwood and Becky Zins, who have offered such helpful editorial advice, thorough comments, and enthusiasm for Blue, and who believe enough in Stacey and her gang to see them through a sequel.
Thanks to the many other friends and family members who have read pieces and/or drafts of this novel in all its many stages: Mom, Lee Ann, Delia, Sara, Haig, and everyone in Lisa's YA classes.
Thanks to Lieutenant Fran Hart of the Burlington, Massachusetts, Police Department for answering all my police-related questions for Blue. Also thanks to Dr. Kathryn Rexrode, M.D.
for answering the medical-related questions.
Finally, thanks to my mother for her endless love and support, who taught me how to read the cards and passed down some of the tales and home remedies of her mother and the generations of women before her.
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"I Know Your Secret * * *27
Stacey's junior year at boarding school isn't easy. She's not the most popular girl at school, or the smartest, or the prettiest. She's got a crush on her best friend's boyfriend, and an even darker secret that threatens to ruin her friendships for good.
And now she's having nightmares again. Not just any nightmares--these dreams are too real to ignore, like she did three years ago. The last time she ignored them, a little girl died. This time they're about Drea, her best friend who's become the target of one seriously psycho stalker.
It started with weird e-mails and freaky phone calls. Now someone's leaving Drea white lilies--
the same death lilies that have been showing up in Stacey's dreams. Everybody thinks it's just a twisted game... until another girl at school is brutally murdered.
There are no witnesses. Worst of all, no one has a perfect alibi. With everyone as a potential suspect, Stacey turns to the one secret weapon she can trust the folk magic taught to her by her grandmother. Will Stacey's magic be strong enough to expose the true killer, or will the killer make her darkest nightmares come true?
Laurie Faria Stolarz, Blue Is for Nightmares
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