The kid is a nutcase.
Please tell everyone that if I don’t email right away that I’m not ignoring them. I’m only allowed thirty minutes for emails and I’ll admit to reading yours first.
Just curious...why were you sleeping with my bunny? :-p
Abby
To: Abby
From: Logan
I’m sorry
Date: September 30
Abby,
I’m so sorry. Mac called Isaiah and Isaiah just told me. I know how much you loved your Grams. I know she loved you, too. He said she passed in her sleep and that Nate was with her.
I hate that you’re in there and I’m out here. I hate that I can’t be with you. I’m holding you, Abby. I know that it’s not the same thing, but I’m holding you.
I love you. Please know I love you,
Logan
To: Logan
From: Abby
Re: I’m sorry
Date: September 30
I’m pretending we’re back on the hill watching the stars. I wish I was there and not here.
I miss her.
I miss you.
Maybe I made a mistake.
To: Abby
From: Logan
Re: Clothes
Date: October 1
Abby,
I’m going to say it again, you didn’t make a mistake. Your Grams would have wanted you to have a decent life. This is your best shot at it. Trust me, Abby—it’s not a mistake.
Rachel bought a black dress and shoes for you. Me, Mac, and Isaiah will meet you at the detention center and they said you can change there before we head to the funeral. They’re only giving us five hours before you have to be back, but we’ll make it work.
I’ll see you soon,
Logan
To: Logan
From: Abby
I’m still alive
Date: October 15
Logan,
Sorry, I sort of lost my email privileges for a while. I did something stupid. I was just mad and sad and I broke some things. I just miss Grams. I just miss you. I just miss everyone and seeing everyone at the funeral made it a million times worse to return.
The days are going by so slowly. Six months never seemed so long.
Don’t worry, I won’t do anything stupid again.
Tell Noah thanks for the shrink. No, really, thank him for me. He’ll think I’m being sarcastic, but I like her. She listens to my stories. All of them. The ones I make up. The ones I don’t. She even laughs at all the right places and it’s not a fake laugh, but a real one.
She even likes to talk about what I think aliens would look like. People who play along are cool. She’s sort of cool, but she’s starting to ask about my mom and I’m not sure I want to talk to her about that yet. Maybe I will. Maybe I won’t, but I like that she’s okay when I don’t.
Sleeping is tough and it’s tougher to get through this without good sleep. Sort of hard for me to close my eyes and trust that everything is okay. I lie awake for hours and stare at the ceiling. Thinking about Grams, Dad, you, my past and future choices. I miss sleeping. First thing I want to do when I get out of here is sleep.
I still love you,
Abby
To: Abby
From: Logan
Re: I’m still alive
Date: October 15
Abby,
God, it’s good to hear from you. I never lost faith in you, though. I knew I would hear from you. Knew you’d figure yourself out. It all goes back to having faith in you like you have faith in me. I don’t have to see you to know you care. You don’t I have to see me to know that I love you.
Noah sent in Mrs. Collins when we all stopped receiving emails. She’s a social worker he knows and he just wanted to see if she could find something out. He didn’t know she would actually talk to you. He says good things about her. So do a lot of other people. They trust her so I think you can, too.
Let’s go for fifty brand-new things. Losing pisses me off.
I still love you, too.
Logan
Abby
“What do you think?” I hold up the plastic ornament I painted and Mrs. Collins purses her lips together. Today’s December 23 and Logan told me he plans on visiting tomorrow. “It’s my Christmas present to Logan. Considering my gift-giving options are limited, this is all I’ve got.”
“It looks good,” she says, taking in the glob of red and brown that’s supposed to be a reindeer-bunny hybrid. Mrs. Collins is blonde, is one of those naturally perky people, and she has killer taste in bands according to her T-shirt collection.
“I think you’re full of shit. I’m definitely not a painter or ornament maker.”
“I have a client