Dirk comes back on and says, “That’s ‘Treasure.’ The Cure’s intense, right? I usually listen to them when I’m bummed out. Something about the whole misery loves company thing.” Then he starts reading IMs from listeners. While he’s reading, I hear this dull clank that’s totally familiar. He goes, “Sorry, friends. Just knocked over something I bet you’d never guess was on my desk.”
Suddenly, it all clicks.
I know who Dirk is.
I go downstairs and sneak out the back door.
If this were a TV show, his room would be downstairs and I’d be able to just crawl through his window with no problem and land in his room. But since this is real life, I have to unlock the front door to get in. So when I get to his house, I look for the ceramic turtle where he hides his key. He used it one day when I came over after school and he didn’t have his keys.
I’m all nervous and shaky. It being my first time breaking into a house and all. I get the door open and manage to walk quietly to his room without getting caught.
His door is closed. I put my ear against it and listen. And that’s how I know I’m right.
Because he’s reading IMs from listeners.
I turn the doorknob. His door doesn’t lock, same as mine. I push the door open.
Nash is sitting at his desk with headphones on. His cowbell is knocked over.
He stops talking.
“Let’s kick it old-school, shall we?” he says. “Here’s some Dre, tellin’ it like it is.”
He takes his headphones off. “What are you doing here?” he says.
“I knew it was you.”
“How?”
“Remember that time in lunch when you were listening to your iPod?”
“Uh . . .”
“When we were too depressed to eat?”
“Sort of . . .”
“You were listening to ‘Treasure.’ And you said how it makes you feel better and that misery loves company.”
“You remember all that?”
“Apparently.”
“So.” Nash gets up. “What happens now?”
“I won’t tell anyone. I promise.”
“I know.”
“You can just . . . keep doing the show. Everyone loves it.”
“Hm.” He thinks about that. “It’s gotta end sometime, right?”
“Why?”
“They’re trying to find out who I am. It’s only a matter of time until I get busted. I never thought I’d be on for this long anyway. It’s all good.”
The way he brings everyone together, just by talking about real things that matter to us, is amazing. I still can’t believe Dirk is actually Nash. I don’t want to be the reason he quits. “Trust me, I won’t tell—”
“I know you won’t. That’s not it.”
I’m like, “How did you—”
“Find out all that stuff about school?”
“Yeah.”
“I work in the office, remember?”
I totally forgot that Nash does service credit in the main office second period. He’s even told me how easy it is to get information in there. He has access to all these confidential files. And the teachers and secretaries totally talk about private things right in front of him, as if he can’t hear them or something.
“How did you think of this?” I ask.
“You know what?” Nash goes over to his desk and puts his headphones back on. “Let me just finish up here and then we’ll talk about it. Cool?”
All I can do is nod. Dirk is Nash. Nash is Dirk.
Far out.
“Okay kids,” Nash says into his computer mic. “It’s time to say good-bye. And not just for the night. This is it. I won’t be back. No worries: It’s not you, it’s me. You’ve all been great and I wish it could go on forever. But everything comes to an end, right?”
There’s no explanation for what I’m about to do. It’s like he has me under a spell or something. The pull is stronger than ever. I may be risking our friendship, but he’s worth the risk.
I go over to Nash and kiss him, just the way I’ve been imagining.
You could totally hear that I just kissed him if you were listening. So Nash goes, “Dude. I’ve just been kissed by the most gorgeous girl alive. That’s it for All Talk, No Action. Looks like it’s all action for me!”
IMs and e-mails start flashing on his computer screen, wanting to know who the girl is. Of course, he can’t tell them. Then everyone will know he’s Dirk. Because I can already tell that this is the beginning of something real.
I sit on his bed and watch Nash be Dirk one last time. I still can’t believe what I’m seeing.
“Last words of wisdom. If your parents are screwed up, don’t turn into them. Use them as an example of who not to be—be yourself instead. You can overcome your fears, you can change, you can make life into what you’ve always wanted it to be. Maybe not tomorrow, but soon. So hang in.”
A warm breeze drifts through the window, puffing the curtains out. I can hear the river rushing by. Some bells hanging near the window make delicate chiming sounds.
“Failure is not an option,” Nash tells everyone. “If your life sucks now, it can only improve later. We all feel alone. We all feel desperate. Know that we’re all in this together. You’re not alone, no matter what. Remember that.”
He puts on his last song.
“Your window’s open,” I say.
“I know. I keep it open all the time now.”
“You do?”
“It feels so much better in here with fresh air. Don’t you know that?”
The whole time the last song plays, Nash looks right at me from across the room. He never looks away.
54
They always say how eating fresh food makes you feel better, but now I know it really does make a difference. I have more energy and I feel happier. I’m not sure if that’s a direct result of Sandra’s nutrition regimen or just finding my way into the light after living in all of that darkness, but I’m loving it. Even my skin looks better. Plus, I gained about ten pounds when I was depressed, which I’m losing now. I’m not running with Sandra anymore, though. The one time was more than enough, thanks. I just had to accept that I cannot run. So I’m doing yogalates at Mom’s gym.
The thing about having an anxiety disorder is that it will always be part of my life. But I’m not afraid to ask for help when I need it because my friends and family really care about me. They help me be strong enough to fight this.
I was supposed to be at Sterling’s five minutes ago, but I’m running late. Hair emergency.
There’s a knock on my door.
“I can’t help you right now,” I yell. I promised Sandra I’d help her with her final physical science project. It’s the same exact final project I had to do when I was in physical science because Mr. Zinn assigns the same things every year. Which is why I threw out my physical science notebook at the end of eighth grade. There’s no way I’m doing all the work and then letting Sandra mooch off me for a free ride.
“Maybe when I get back from Sterling’s—” I yank open my door and there’s Mom. “Oh. I thought you were Sandra.”
“Hi there.”
“Hi.”
If there’s one thing I learned about my time with Derek, it’s that relationships are never as simple as they appear. And they’re hard to maintain for a long time. Or at least, everything’s constantly changing and you have to adjust to unexpected twists and turns. But one thing we all have in common is that we want to be happy. That will never change.
“Jack invited you and Sandra out to dinner tonight,” Mom says. “I’d like for you to go.”
I’ve been treating Mom better and I’m trying to get back to how it used to be between us. I never officially announced that I forgive her because I still don’t know if I completely do yet. But I feel good about how things are improving with us. The thing is, doing stuff with Jack is just too much. It’s weird enough that Mom has a boyfriend (who she cheated on Dad
with) without having to actually spend time with him.
So I’m like, “Um, I’m going to the boardwalk with Sterling.”
“Until when?”
“I don’t know. Later.”
“Please give him a chance, Marisa,” she says. “He really wants to know you. And Sandra.”
“Sandra can do what she wants.”
Mom’s eyes tear up. “Please.”
And then she’s crying. I realize that I have to accept that Jack’s part of her life now, so he has to be part of mine. Whether I’m ready to deal with him or not.
I hug her. “I’m sorry,” I say. “I’ll go.”
When I get to the boardwalk and find Sterling, I tell her everything that just happened with Mom. She goes, “It’s about freaking time.”
“Um, you remember what he did, right?”
“Oh, the thing where he had an affair with your mom and your parents got divorced? Yeah, I do. Do you remember that at least you have two parents who actually care about you, instead of an MIA dad and a mom who’s never home?”
Now I feel like an ass. Sterling’s the last person I should be complaining about my parents to. Actually, most kids have much worse things going on at home. I should be relatively thankful.
Sterling called me that night after she met “Chris” and told me everything. I wasn’t sure she’d be okay with admitting what happened, but she told me the truth and I totally respected her for that. I also wasn’t sure if she’d be mad at me for watching the whole thing. When I told her I was there, she was cool about it. I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to keep a straight face in full orchestra from now on. Triangle boy is too much. I mean, did he really think lying would work? Anyway, Sterling promised me that her days of online relationships are over. I made her swear to only focus on boys in real life.
“Now I have news,” Sterling says.
“Hit it.”
“There’s a boy.”
“Please tell me he’s not online.”
“No freaking way. He’s in my new cooking class. Well, he’s not technically in it. He helps set up and stuff.”
“How old is he?”
“Seventeen.”
“I’m impressed!”
“I’ve decided to give boys my own age a try. They can’t all be rejects. I mean, look at Nash.”
The breeze feels awesome. I love this time of year. I’ve decided to stay home this summer. Camp was great, but now there’s too much going on to leave.
We walk way down on the boardwalk and I win a penguin at the ringtoss.
“For you,” I say. I push the penguin at her.
“But you love these guys.”
“So do you.”
Eventually, they come out to meet up with us. Mom and Sandra.
And Jack.
“Hi, Sterling,” Mom says.
“I like your penguin,” Sandra says.
Sterling goes, “Thanks. Marisa won it for me.”
Mom’s like, “You remember Jack, right, Marisa?”
Here’s someone I never thought I’d ever have to know, much less like. But he looks nervous, too. And if Mom likes him—no, loves him—then he can’t be such a bad guy.
I go, “Hey, Jack.”
“Hi, Marisa. And Sterling. Thanks for coming out to dinner with us.”
“Can Sterling come, too?” I blurt out. I hope she doesn’t kill me. I just suddenly need her there.
“Of course she can,” Mom says. “Should we call your mom?”
“She’s out of town,” Sterling says. “And my grandma won’t be over until nine.”
“Then we’re ready,” Jack says.
So the five of us walk down the boardwalk together. It’s kind of like a new extended family for Sterling, too. It’s sort of awkward, but we’re all trying to make things better. I can’t wait to see what happens next.
55
I find him out on the dock. Somehow, I knew he’d be here. I could already tell that the sunset was going to be incredible, so I brought my camera. I walk out to where he’s sitting. He’s leaning forward against the rail with his feet dangling above the water.
“Hey,” I go.
Nash looks up and smiles. “Hey, you.”
I sit next to him and watch the sunset begin. This summer is going to be the best. Being with Nash, swimming in the river, sharing the dock with him in this whole new way. It’s kind of scary to think about how things might change. But you can’t get to the place you most want to be without taking a chance. I finally found who I’ve been waiting for and I’m not losing him again.
We sit for a while with no one saying anything. It reminds me of that time I sat with him out here and he wasn’t even talking to me. I just wanted him to know I was there.
Nash smiles at me. “This is for you.” He holds out a small jewelry box.
When I take the lid off, there’s a note inside. It says:
“You mean the junior prom?”
“Yeah.”
“Why are you asking me so early?”
“So no one else does.”
“I’d love to,” I say.
“Yeah?”
“Totally.”
“Sweet. I know you’ve been looking forward to it for, like, ever, so . . .”
“How do you know that?”
“Because I heard you tell Sterling.”
“When?”
“Um . . . in eighth grade? I sat behind you in physical science, remember?”
Way back then, while I was talking about how my dress would look and what kind of flowers would be in my corsage, Nash was listening. I can’t believe he remembers all that.
“I remember,” I go, “but I can’t believe you do.”
“I remember everything,” Nash says.
The sunset is all pink and red, burning the sky. I want to take pictures of it, and timing is everything. The colors will change in a minute and then all of this will only be a memory. But I don’t pick up my camera. I want to keep this in my heart and remember it forever that way. Just like John Mayer does in “3x5.” Some things just can’t be experienced through a lens.
I’ve been thinking a lot about what happened with Derek. I think I’ve figured out what the problem was. We were never really friends. Not the way Nash and I are. Derek was the idea of what I wanted my boyfriend to be instead of actually being the right person for me. It’s like Derek was the perfect picture, but Nash is the real experience.
“Wait,” I say. “You never told me how you know when I’m hiding something.”
“What?”
“Remember?”
“Oh, yeah. I was going to tell you.”
“So tell me.”
Nash lightly brushes his fingers under my eye. “You get a twitch here,” he says.
“Attractive.”
“Not a big twitch. Just a little twitch.”
He doesn’t take his fingers away from my face.
I know he wants me to finally give him a chance, to stop waiting for something I already have. Right here, under the orange sky, on the dock where we’ve been a million times before, everything is different.
No relationship is guaranteed to last forever. But I’m okay with being here in the Now and letting later work itself out.
So just like that, I walk out of this life. And into the one I’ve been waiting for.
Acknowledgments
Regina Hayes and Kendra Levin are an amazing editorial team. Your insight and brilliance have turned this book into something of which I am very proud. Working with you has been an author’s dream come true. Enormous thanks to both of you for making the revision process an exciting adventure.
Claire Evans provided insightful feedback and Sam Kim designed another gorgeous cover. Special thanks to the sales and marketing teams at Viking Children’s Books for supporting my books with such enthusiasm. Karen Chaplin has done an incredible job as my Puffin editor for paperback editions. And thanks to Gillian MacKenzie for making sure it’s all good.
Thanks to Dr. Laila Dadvand for sharing your awareness and vast knowledge of anxiety and depression. The NYU Child Study Center also provided information used to make this story an accurate one.
Warm fuzzies go out to everyone who works with teens and encourages kids to become lifelong readers. Teachers and librarians are made of awesome.
Ben Ruby of Barnes & Noble believed in me from the start, and for this I am immensely grateful.
Much gratitude to John Mayer for providing the answers to my burning questions. And thanks to Renee Combs for creating a super cute way for Nash to ask that question.
Pierre refuses to let me underestimate myself, and for that I thank you every day. Sparkle gluons for you. Thanks also to my friends, who are the best family a girl could hope for.
Final thanks to the energy of New York City for inspiring me every single day. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be, then, now, and always.
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