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  “Paige tried to kill herself because of something I did.” Anna started to cry again.

  “Honey, I don’t think—” her father began.

  “Dad, listen to me.” Anna couldn’t keep the story a secret any longer. She hated to burst her parents’ bubble about their daughter, but it had to be done. She retrieved the slam book and held it out to them. “It started with this,” she said tearfully. “It’s called a slam book. Peggy had one,” she went on as her parents turned the pages. “She said how popular it had made her, and how cool it was to start one. And it was so hard being a freshman at CHS—I mean, really awful—and I guess I wanted to feel important again. So I started this slam book.

  “It was great at first. Jessie and Randy and Paige and I were the center of attention. Everyone got to know us right away. We always had a big crowd of kids to sit with at lunch.”

  “So far,” said Mrs. Wallace, “this doesn’t seem too bad. Some of the comments aren’t very nice, but … what happened?”

  “People started using it the wrong way,” Anna replied. “They started writing things in it just to hurt other people’s feelings. You know, kids they were mad at or something.” She turned to Casey Reade’s page and pointed to an entry near the top. “Paige Beaulac wrote that, but it’s completely untrue. She made it up because she wanted Casey to break up with Gooz Drumfield.”

  “Your Gooz,” Mr. Wallace said thoughtfully.

  “Yes. And it worked. Only Paige had wanted Gooz for herself.”

  “And that didn’t work,” said Mrs. Wallace.

  Anna shook her head. “Gooz doesn’t like Paige. He started going out with me.”

  “Did you know then what Paige had done?” asked Anna’s father.

  “Yes,” replied Anna. “I was there when she wrote it. Jessie and Randy were, too. I didn’t know what to do, though. Anyway, Paige was furious with me for ending up with Gooz. And she was mad at Randy and Jessie. Just for being my friends, I guess. I don’t really know. Actually, she was mad at everybody. She started writing terrible things in the slam book.” Anna pointed several of them out to her parents.

  “Why, that’s horrible!” Mrs. Wallace exclaimed when she read the Oreo comment. “Poor Randy.”

  Mr. Wallace turned to Anna, puzzled. “I don’t see that you’ve done much of anything wrong,” he said. “Paige seems to be the one who’s caused all the trouble.”

  “Well, the thing is,” said Anna, “it got to the point where I wanted to get back at Paige. I wanted to do something to embarrass her, to make her look bad or silly, the way she was making the rest of us look.”

  Anna’s parents glanced at each other.

  “So … you know Cheryl Sutphin?” Anna went on.

  The Wallaces nodded grimly.

  “Well, she has a page in the book. Everyone was writing really rotten things about her. So I wrote a couple of nice comments on her page—but in Paige’s handwriting.” Anna showed them Cheryl’s section. “Everyone saw the notes. Paige must have seen them, too. No one really knew what was going on. They all thought it was just some sort of practical joke, either on Paige or on Cheryl. No one found out I wrote them. Anyway, Cheryl didn’t think they were a joke. So of course, she started acting like Paige’s best friend. Paige was so embarrassed she didn’t know what to do.

  “I might have let it go at that, except that Paige and I had a huge fight—right in the cafeteria—and thanks to some things that came up, Randy and Jessie got mad at me, and Gooz and I sort of broke up for a while. So,” said Anna, drawing in a deep, shaky breath, “I sent a note to Cheryl from Paige telling Cheryl to go to the Beaulacs’ for a double date with Paige and these two guys. It was just supposed to be a joke on Paige.”

  “But it was a cruel one,” said Mr. Wallace. “It was especially cruel to Cheryl. You used her, Anna.”

  “I know, I know.” Anna’s voice trembled.

  “And?” prompted her mother.

  “And Cheryl went. I’m sure of it. I don’t know what happened, but it was later that night that she killed herself.” Mrs. Wallace gasped. “And then Paige turned up at the funeral. I think she was feeling guilty about something.

  “So you see? It’s all my fault. I killed Cheryl and I almost killed Paige.”

  Anna dissolved into tears again, but quite unexpectedly her mother took her firmly by the shoulders and shook her once to get her attention. “I want you to understand something, young lady,” she said. “What you did was wrong. It was unforgivable. But you did not kill Cheryl, and you did not force Paige to swallow vodka and Valium this afternoon. Both of those girls were very troubled to begin with, or they wouldn’t have reacted the way they did. Do you really think if you had pulled the dating trick on Randy, for instance, that she would have slit her wrists?”

  “No,” replied Anna, taken aback.

  “That’s because Randy is a well-adjusted young woman. She has her share of problems, but she handles them in a healthy way.”

  “And,” added Anna’s father, “I don’t believe that Paige actually intended to kill herself. What she did seems more like a cry for help. If she had really wanted to commit suicide, she wouldn’t have phoned to tell you what she was doing. She called you in time to save her life.”

  “Yes,” said Anna slowly, wiping her eyes. “I guess so.”

  Mr. and Mrs. Wallace left Anna alone for a while. When they returned, they had obviously discussed the situation.

  “As soon as Paige is well enough,” said Mr. Wallace, “you’re going to talk with her—in person—and tell her what you did, show her the slam book.”

  “Oh, Dad.”

  “You are then,” Mrs. Wallace continued, “going to get rid of the slam book, and I don’t mean hide it. I mean throw it away. And after that, you are to have nothing to do with slam books. Not one of your own, not Peggy’s, nobody’s.”

  “That’s no problem,” said Anna. “I hope I never lay eyes on another one in my whole life.”

  “We’d like you to talk to a counselor, too,” Mr. Wallace said. “I think you need to straighten a few things out.”

  “See a shrink?” cried Anna.

  “It depends on how you look at it,” her mother replied. “I just think you need to talk to an unbiased adult.”

  “Well …” said Anna. “Maybe I do. Okay. I’ll talk to someone if I have to. I’ll try anything—once.”

  “Oh, Lord,” said Mrs. Wallace. “I hope not.”

  Anna smiled. Then she opened her arms, and her parents crowded in for a hug.

  When they left a few moments later, Anna suddenly felt as if she couldn’t stand to be alone with herself. She got up and wandered around her room. She gazed blankly out the window. When she heard the phone ring, she made a dash for the extension in her parents’ room. She didn’t care who was on the other end of the line. All she wanted was a distraction. But it would be nice to hear from Gooz.

  “Hello?” she said.

  “Hi,” replied Jessie’s subdued voice.

  “Oh, Jess,” said Anna, and the whole horrible hospital incident came flooding back to her.

  “I’m sorry I—I’m sorry about what happened this afternoon,” said Anna. “I mean everything—crying, making a scene, you know.”

  “I’m sorry too,” said Jessie. “But Anna, I really understand—”

  Tears welled up in Anna’s eyes and threatened to spill over. “Don’t you dare say anything nice to me!” she exclaimed. “I’ll cry all over again.”

  “Then listen, I’ll tell you what’s been going on.”

  “Going on?”

  “Dad and I have been talking. And I mean really talking. Me talking and Dad listening, and Dad talking and me listening. Not just yelling at each other and not listening at all. And guess what? Dad’s going to call that drug hotline number and talk to somebody about Jack.”

  Anna was amazed. “How on earth did you convince him to do that?”

  “I told him that in a way Jack was committing suicide ju
st like Paige tried to do, only he’s doing it more slowly. It’s the same thing, as far as I can see. Just as self-destructive. And I told him about Cheryl. A suicide and an attempted suicide. It really got to him. He finally listened. I think he’s worried about me, too.”

  “I can’t believe you actually said that,” said Anna.

  “Me neither. But Paige really scared me today. It could have been Jack on that stretcher.” Jessie paused. “We talked about Mom, too. And, Anna, she isn’t coming home. I didn’t know this, but Mom and Dad have been in touch. By phone, I guess. Dad knows more than I do. He seems resigned and kind of sad. He says it’s too late to patch things up. Mom’s in New York for good, and they’re working on the divorce papers.”

  “Oh, Jessie. I’m sorry.”

  “Well, now I’m going to cry.”

  “I’ll stop being kind,” Anna teased.

  “No, it’s not that. I think I’m going to move to New York. I’m going to visit Mom over Thanksgiving and see how I like it. And if I do move there, I’m just going to miss you … so … much …” Jessie’s voice broke as she burst into tears.

  Then Anna was crying again, too. She didn’t know whether to be happy or miserable. She felt as if all the people she cared about were slipping away from her and she was powerless to stop them.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  THE HOSPITAL SMELLED FUNNY. It smelled of medicine and detergent and bland food and rubbing alcohol and sickness. And it was too brightly lit. Anna hated it. But she was able to admit to herself that what she really hated was what she had to do. Hospitals were no picnic, but confronting Paige would have been unpleasant anywhere.

  Paige was in Room 214, a private room, of course. No roommate or ward for her.

  Anna approached the door slowly. It was ajar. She peered through the crack, but all she could see was a wall.

  She knocked.

  No answer.

  She knocked again.

  Nothing.

  “Paige?” Anna called softly. She pushed the door open and peered around it.

  Paige was curled up in bed, her back to Anna.

  Anna thought she was asleep until she saw her foot move.

  “Paige?” Anna tiptoed into the room and around to the other side of the bed. She wondered where Mrs. Beaulac was.

  “Oh, boy. Just the person I wanted to see,” said Paige sarcastically.

  “Gosh, look at all your flowers,” said Anna, gazing at the windowsill and tables.

  “Don’t be too impressed,” replied Paige. “They’re all from Mother. When I’d been here for two days and the only flowers to arrive were from you and Jessie and Randy—even my father didn’t send any—she decided it was disgraceful and arranged for the florist to deliver me a fresh bouquet every morning.”

  “Oh.” Anna remembered the bag in her hand and gave it to Paige. “Here,” she said. “I don’t know if you’re allowed to have this, but I thought you might be tired of hospital food.”

  Paige looked in the bag and a faint smile played on her lips. “White chocolate,” she whispered. “You remembered.”

  “How could I forget?” said Anna, grinning. “First thing you ever shoplifted. Only this is bought and paid for.”

  Paige closed the bag. Her smile disappeared. Anna noticed the dark circles, almost like bruises, that shadowed her eyes. Her skin was sallow and waxy.

  “So … how are you doing?” asked Anna. Then she laughed self-consciously. “Dumb question, huh?”

  Paige shrugged.

  “But really. How are you doing? I mean, when do you get out of here?”

  Paige shrugged again. “Don’t know. Whenever they decide I’m not suicidal anymore. I have to see a shrink.”

  “Yeah,” said Anna. “Me, too.”

  Paige finally looked interested. “You? How come?”

  Anna could feel herself flushing. “Paige, there’s something I have to tell you.”

  “What?” asked Paige suspiciously.

  “Can I sit down somewhere?”

  “Sure. Take all the stuff off that chair. You can just dump it on the floor.”

  Anna did so and drew the chair up to the bed.

  Paige sat up.

  “I want you to read something.” The slam book was waiting in Anna’s purse. She withdrew it and handed it to Paige.

  “The slam book!” Paige exclaimed. “I do not want to read that. Why do you want me to read it? Hasn’t it done enough damage already?” She sounded slightly hysterical.

  “There’s only one page I want you to see.” Anna turned to Cheryl’s page.

  “Cheryl?” said Paige, her voice rising.

  “Shh. Just read the last few comments.”

  With a sidelong glance at Anna, Paige took the book. “Yeah? So what? Someone copied my handwriting.”

  “I did,” said Anna.

  “You?”

  “It was just a joke,” Anna said quickly. “Just a joke. You were being so horrible, and I wanted to get back at you, so I fixed it so Cheryl would start hanging around and embarrassing you. Really, I only thought it was funny.

  “But then I—after I wrote the stuff in the slam book, I sent her a note from you telling her to go to your house that night for a double date—Cheryl and Kirk, and you and a boyfriend I made up for you. I guess it worked,” Anna said lamely.

  Paige sat up. Her sallow complexion was reddening. “You bet it worked! She showed up. But I didn’t know why. I said horrible things to her. I yelled at her, and then she killed herself!”

  “Keep your voice down,” said Anna nervously. “Someone’ll come in or something.”

  “All this time I was blaming myself, and it’s your fault!” Paige went on.

  Anna bristled. “I may have sent her over there, but I wasn’t the one who yelled at her! You did that.”

  “Girls, girls. Please.” A disapproving nurse stuck her head in the room. “What’s going on in here?”

  “Nothing,” said Paige sullenly. “We’re sorry. We’ll quiet down.”

  The nurse left.

  Anna and Paige stared angrily at each other.

  “Look,” Anna said finally, “I came over here to tell you what happened. I wanted you to know about Cheryl, and I don’t think either of us is to blame. I shouldn’t have played the joke on her, and you shouldn’t have yelled at her, but we didn’t kill her. I’ve played jokes on plenty of people who haven’t committed suicide, and I bet you’ve yelled at plenty of people who haven’t committed suicide.”

  Paige managed a small smile.

  “Well,” said Anna, “I better go. I just wanted you to know the truth.”

  “That’s what slam books are for, right?” said Paige.

  “Right,” said Anna. “You’ll never see the slam book again, though. My parents are making me throw it away. By tomorrow, it’ll be out at the dump.”

  “Where it belongs,” said Paige.

  Anna stood up and put the chair back where it had been.

  “’Bye, Paige,” she said as she slipped out the door.

  “’Bye,” Paige replied. “And thanks.”

  Anna turned and left. It was to be the last time she and Paige would see each other for two years.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  TWO MONTHS LATER:

  “So this is New York, huh?” asked Jessie. She and her mother were standing on the observation deck at the top of the Empire State Building. Jessie had been in New York for four weeks, but this was the first time she had seen the city from a height, spreading in front of her in all directions, a tangle of buildings and streets.

  “This is New York,” agreed her mother.

  “I must be crazy,” said Jessie.

  “Why?”

  “To want to live here.”

  “I don’t think you’re crazy,” replied Mrs. Smith.

  “You always were prejudiced where I’m concerned.”

  Mrs. Smith put her arm around her daughter. “I have a right to be. I hope you know how happy I am th
at you made this decision.”

  Jessie smiled. “It wasn’t an easy one. Especially with Dad and Jack finally starting to get things straightened out.”

  “Maybe Jack will want to visit New York sometime.”

  “He could come when I go back to Calvin for vacations. Sort of an exchange program.”

  Jessie’s mother laughed. “Well, come on, roomie. We better go. Our apartment awaits. There are dirty dishes in the sink, and baking to be done.”

  “And homework,” added Jessie. “I still can’t get over that A in English. First one I ever got.”

  “I knew you could do it, given the right environment.”

  “Yeah, pollution, noise, traffic …”

  Arm in arm, Jessie and her mother headed for the elevator.

  Paige stood on the steps to the front door of her home. Earlier that morning she’d walked through the house and all around the property. She had taken a long last look at everything. Now she was impatient to leave. Her suitcases and trunk sat beside her. Whenever Dwight brought the car around, he could load her things in and she’d be off.

  It was typical that her mother was away and only Savanna was there to say goodbye. But Paige didn’t really mind. She and her mother had said goodbye two days earlier, and Mrs. Beaulac had seemed honestly sorry that she’d be in San Francisco when her daughter left for England.

  Furthermore, for once Paige was looking forward to starting over. A boarding school in England would be really different. Mrs. Beaulac had been lucky to find a school that would accept Paige, but she’d done it, and Paige was happy to be leaving Calvin behind. She felt stronger than she could ever remember and had a good feeling about England. The only thing she regretted was not saying goodbye to Anna and Randy, or writing to Jessie. But Paige had been out of school ever since that awful day, and she just couldn’t face them. Maybe she’d write to them from her new school.

  Dwight brought the silver Cadillac to a stop in front of the house. He stepped out, opened the trunk, and began packing the suitcases in it. Savanna poked her head out the front door.

  “Come say goodbye to me inside, honey,” she said. “It’s freezing out here.”