“Stalking the girls' softball team again?”

“Piper reminds Adam once again about their study session later, and then, within sixty seconds, all of them are gone.“Well, that was about as pleasant as having my ass waxed,” Wes says.”

“You know what's really freaky? Wes segues. "The fact that the psycho in question was the same guy who was after Debbie Marcus."The whole fiasco with Debbie Marcus had happened at around the same time that I was getting stalked. But instead of taking her seriously, people chalked her stories up to pranks and practical jokes, concluding that Debbie had gotten paranoid as a result.But there was obviously a lot more to it."Actually, its not nearly as freaky as the fact that Camelia decided to go to the psycho's house without even calling us first," Kimmie says."I already told you guys, I didn't have my phone.""And you've obviously never heard of a collect call," Wes says."Nor have you heard of nine-one-one." Kimmie's barbell-pierced eyebrow rises high. "Because I hear that's free as well.”

“Wait,” Wes says. “Are you to imply that our dear Chameleon is once again having premonitions by way of pottery?”“I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t call me reptilian names,” I say.“Would you prefer it if I called you a freak?”

“What about Melissa?” I ask. “She’s angry at you for ending things with her. Maybe this is her way of teaching you a lesson.”“A total possibility. I’m definitely sweet and studly enough to drive a girl literally insane, wouldn’t you say?” He flexes his biceps to be funny.“Can we please try to be serious here?”

“You could call him,' Wes suggests. 'Why be a spectator in the game of love? Take charge. Don't wait around and let the boy call all the shots.' 'As cheesy as all of that sounds,' Kimmie adds. 'Cheese or not,I know what I'm talking about.' He sulks. 'I've lived it. I've learned it.'Kimmie lets out a laugh. 'With who,Romeo? That Wendy girl you paid to date you?''Oh, and because I don't have a dating history as big as your mouth, it doesn't quite measure up?''I hate to break this to you, but that isn't the only thing of yours that doesn't measure up.' 'Wouldn't you like to know?' He grins.”

“Dear Jack:I have no idea who he was. But he saved me. From you.I watched from the doorway as he smacked, punched, and threw you against the wall. You fought back hard- I'll give you that- but you were no match for him.And when it was over- when you'd finally passed out- the boy made direct eye contact with me. He removed the rag from my mouth and asked me if I was okay.'Yes. I mean, I think so,' I told him.But it was her that he was really interested in: the girl who was lying unconscious on the floor. Her eyes were swollen, and there looked to be a trail of blood running from her nose.The boy wiped her face with a rag. And then he kissed her, and held her, and ran his hand over her cheek, finally grabbing his cell to dial 911.He was wearing gloves, which I thought was weird. Maybe he was concerned about his fingerprints, from breaking in. But once he hung up, he removed the gloves, took the girl's hand, and placed it on the front of his leg- as if it were some magical hot spot that would make her better somehow. Tears welled up in his eyes as he apologized for not getting there sooner.'I'm so sorry,' he just kept saying.And suddenly I felt sorry too.Apparently it was the anniversary of something tragic that'd happened. I couldn't really hear him clearly, but I was pretty sure he'd mentioned visiting an old girlfriend's grave.'You deserve someone better,' he told her. 'Someone who'll be open and honest; who won't be afraid to share everything with you.' He draped his sweatshirt over her, kissed her behind the ear, and then promised to love her forever.A couple minutes later, another boy came in, all out of breath. 'Is she alright?' he asked.The boy who saved me stood up, wiped his tearful eyes, and told the other guy to sit with her until she woke up. And then he went to find scissors for me. He cut me free and brought me out to the sofa. 'My name's Ben,' he said. 'And help is on the way.'When the girl finally did wake up, Ben allowed the other guy to take credit for saving her life. I wanted to ask him why, but I haven't been able to speak.That's what this letter is for. My therapist says that I need to tell my side of things in order to regain my voice. She suggested that addressing my thoughts directly to you might help provide some closure.So far, it hasn't done the trick.Never your Jill,Rachael”