enough for you, boy.” He throws his head back and laughs. But I’m dead serious. When he sees that, he stops laughing and rolls his eyes. Again—like Daria. It’s only now when I look for stuff to remind me of her that I’m beginning to see how alike she is to her parents. How can she possibly think she is an awful person when she is made of two people who took in totally vindictive, awful teenage strays when no one else would?
“You don’t want me to see her? Talk to her? Know where she is? Fine. But I want you to give her this.” I grab my backpack and take out a leather journal, identical to the one Daria had. It wasn’t by coincidence that we have the same journal. Melody gave it to Via the day she gave Daria hers, four and a half years ago. I think—though I’ll never ask to confirm—she wanted both girls to reach the same realization and try to bridge shit together. Much good it did Melody. Via bailed, and Daria went off the freaking rails. I don’t know why I kept the untouched journal. It just seemed like a waste to throw away something that seemed expensive, being leather bound and all. I started writing in it only four years later, the night my mother died, and I saw Daria for the first time in years.
Writing so I could remember.
Writing so I could let go and forget.
“What is this?” Jaime frowns at the journal. I think he thinks it’s the original one Daria had. But that shit burned to the ground with the snake pit.
“Some stuff I wrote for her. Don’t read it.”
“You know I will.” He laughs.
“Whatever, asshole,” I groan. “So, will you?”
“Will I what?”
“Send it to her!” I roar. He is playing with me, and I fucking hate it.
Jaime looks up at the ceiling and pretends to think about it. “If you start acting like a human being and not like a zombie, maybe.”
We shake on it, and for the first time since I’ve met him, my shake is harder than his.
How sweet must it be
To look into your eyes again and see
If I’m killing you like you’re ruining me
My apartment is beautiful.
Off-campus, it is new, large, and spacious. When I first came here with Dad, it looked pretty bland, but then Melody sent out an interior designer, Tiffanie, and things kind of picked up. I grew to like the place, even if it’s completely new to me.
It’s been three months since I came here. Two since Dad came for a visit personally to give me Penn’s journal. I am not one for self-control. I immediately read the whole thing, then did it again, and again, and again.
A million times, I wanted to pick up the phone, call him, and tell him to come to me.
A trillion times, I simply wanted to purchase a ticket and go back to Todos Santos to his still-open arms.
But every single time, I slammed that idea, knowing that now was not the time for us to be together, and that we needed to stay focused. I’m attending high school here, and Melody or Dad fly out here once every two weeks to spend the weekend with me. I’m slowly learning to get used to calling Mel Mom again, but baby steps.
I don’t feel particularly alone here. It’s a college town, and all my neighbors are twenty-one or below. There are Rich and Welcott, and Beth and Fiona, who I seem to be getting along with really well. Beth and Fiona have Mel on speed dial and vice versa. They get their grocery shopping for free, and in exchange for that, they promised to snitch me out if I throw a party or bring a boy to the apartment. As if. Like I ever would.
Melody says things are getting better at home, and I’m not surprised. Someone needed to step back and let us all heal, and that someone had to be me. I’m not bitter to be making this sacrifice. I want Penn to have a strong relationship with his sister. Knight, Vaughn, and Luna text my new cell phone almost every day. So far Knight’s reported that Vaughn dumped Esme after her confession, Blythe somehow managed to kick her off the cheer team and became captain, and Colin made sure his father went to visit Camilo at the hospital, and they are going to pay for his first year of college. Vaughn said