She shrugs and turns to mess with her pack. I let my eyes travel up and down the length of the super s.e.xy girl waiting to go hiking with me. She's my girlfriend after all. Shouldn't I stare? Shouldn't I shower her with attention...compliments...whatever I want? "Dude. After today, you're so far on the dark side you'll never get back," I mutter, openly admiring her delicate profile.

My head starts pounding. With both windows closed and the sun heating my dashboard, the scent of cinnamon coming from her seat crashes all around me.

Legs. Unbelievable legs.

I lose control all over again and groan, resting my head on the steering wheel. I close my eyes so I can't see her anymore, but that makes it worse. Now all I can see are her lips in my mind.

"c.r.a.p!"

I might never be able to leave this car.

Chapter Twenty.

Jess ...

You're a very lucky girl. Lucky. Lucky girl.

Let's go. Dude. Nothing happened. Let's go.

I'm sorry. I'm so sorry...Jess...

"Jess! Jess. Wake up. Jess! I am so telling Mom. You were screaming."

I can't-I can't-I can't-breathe in. I can't breathe out. My face feels like wet wood, my body is concrete and my eyes won't focus.

The images and voices are cutting into me from all directions. Tears. Sweat. Shuddering panic.

"Oh my G.o.d. Jess! Please, say something." Kika's voice shatters into my head, releasing me from the nightmare. Releasing my lungs.

"No! I'm okay," I gasp and fight to control my breathing. I need to act as though I'm okay, but I'm disoriented by the sunlight streaming across my face.

It's not dark. What's happening?

I find my clock. 4:35. My eyes burn as I search the room.

Where's my lamp?! I need the lamp.

The jellyfish lamp is turned off! It's too bright in my room. I must have fallen asleep at my desk.

During the day. During the day. There should be no nightmare.

I gasp and gasp again, fighting tears and a new level of panic. I've never, ever had the nightmare during the day. The room shifts, darkens at the edges of my vision and I catch myself from falling out of my chair by landing an iron grip on Kika's arm.

"Oh G.o.d...I'm getting Mom. You aren't good."

"Please. Wait with me, wait." I cling to her, hoping my grip will be enough to keep her here while I click on the lamp so I can decipher the level of aftershocks about to hit me. Thankfully, the three bobbing jellyfish are only half out of focus. I can see their tentacles pretty well. This realization calms me more than anything.

Silently, I start to count and let go of my sister so I can stand.

My legs are aching, already beginning to shake uncontrollably. I make it to my bed and clamber under the covers, working to breathe and count silently as I force the voices and the images from the dream away. After a few moments I'm able to refocus and see that Kika hasn't moved. She'd been standing there, crying-crying for me-and I hadn't even heard her.

"Don't you cry. That's what I do," I croak. Her expression makes my own tears launch and flow. I don't have the energy to stop them.

"You. Oh Jess, you screamed so loud. You sounded so...awful." Kika gulps and moves to the foot of my bed.

"I'm okay. I am. Come here, sis. I swear, it's over and I'm okay."

Kika uncrosses her arms to climb in the bed. She wraps her arms around my trembling shoulders, and I lay my head against her shoulder, breathing her warmth in. "Please let me say something to Mom and Dad. I heard you the other night...and you sounded the same. It's too much for you to handle alone."

"I'm not alone. You're here. I'm so glad you woke me up." I hug her tighter.

"You've never screamed like that-not before."

"I don't know. Maybe because the dream seems to be changing. Everything is different. New. For the first time, I think I saw faces. And I heard the voices. Voices that weren't my own." I shudder. "Maybe I'm finally remembering. The voices were as clear as day. Dad kept saying: She's going to be fine, nothing happened. Nothing really happened. Right? She's going to be fine, right? He was talking to Mom like a broken record while I was in that hospital bed."

"What else? I want to know." Kika pulls the covers higher.

"Mom. Crying. I heard that the other night for the first time. It was terrible. Mom sounded like a broken record: Jess. Our Jess. She was almost raped. Almost raped. Almost raped. And then more crying. I think Dad cried too."

"Dad? Holy." Kika's eyes fill with tears again and my heart clenches.

Our dad doesn't cry.

"The worst was everyone saying: nothing happened, nothing really happened combined with all the old stuff."

"The old stuff?"

"Yeah. Like how the police officer said I was so lucky and that I'd be fine. He's always there...saying that. The voices were all so real-like I could tell them apart. One in my ear kept repeating my name, and then he said: I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.

I finally met Kika's gaze. My terror is reflected back in her eyes.

I hate that look and I hate myself for not being able to erase it.

"All of that's new?" Kika asks.

"Except for the voice in my ear. That's always been there. Even three years ago when you all thought I was permanently whacked. Right in my ear like that. Endlessly apologizing. Dr. Brodie suggested that maybe it's actually me. My subconscious. Like I'm talking to myself. Apologizing for my drinking and lying. All the stuff I still feel guilty about and for totally s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g everything up for our family. I think he's wrong. Even that voice had changed. It was someone else. Whispering. I don't know."

I moan and put my hands over my ears as tightly as possible, pulling my legs up until I'm curled into a ball.

How I wish I could just push it all out of my head and forget. "I have no idea what's real." I'm crying again. "I'm such a disaster of a sister. I'm sorry if I scared you."

"Jess. I'm the one who's sorry-sorry you go through that night after night."

I shoot her a grimace through my tears. "Maybe I screamed because I wanted them all to shut up. To stop saying I'll be fine. I won't ever be that, obviously. Sometimes, I think the whole thing would have been easier to deal with if I'd actually been raped. Instead of just almost. Then there'd be a concrete reason for why I'm this much of a failure at life. There are no *almost raped', support groups or *almost better' from *almost being raped' websites. No blogs, Twitter and no *almost-crazy-but-not-quite' Facebook support groups either."

"I could make you one, if you want. Or Google the other stuff. Bet there's something. I'll compile a list."

I flip onto my back and use the blankets to dry my tears. "I love your lists. It sure can't hurt." We share a grim smile.

Kika takes my hand. "I'm glad it didn't happen. That you weren't raped. I can't imagine how I'd live knowing someone had hurt you so badly." Kika grimaces. "It's hard enough to know what you did go through."

"Yeah. You're right. I shouldn't have said that. I can't imagine how much heavier my heart would feel if that had been the case." I stretch out and sit up a little, shooting Kika a grateful smile. "I'm fine...for now," I say. "Thanks for sticking around."

She throws her arms around me again. "You will be fine. You will. You are! You need more time. More help. Someone better than me to talk to," Kika hints.

I pull out of her hug. "There is no one better than you. Unless you want me to stop talking to you. I don't want you upset or afraid for me."

"No, I like that you talk to me. But I'm just a kid-not a doctor. I can only listen. I didn't even get what really happened to you until this year."

"You mean what really didn't happen to me," I try to joke.

"No. It happened. All the way or not, it happened and it was real and terrible."

"I wish I could take it all away. Have a do-over." I meet Kika's gaze. "I know it's wrong to heap all my garbage onto you; but I'm asking you not to tell. I want to figure this out on my own. Please. I'm begging you. If I can't solve this, then I'm sure Mom's going to catch on soon enough. I can hardly hide the fact that I'm screaming in my sleep for very long, right?"

"Keep screaming like that, and the neighbors will know," Kika agrees, but she doesn't seem convinced. Her stony, freaked expression tells me the kid is going to be blabbing to Mom before bedtime unless I can take her mind off what just went down.

"Look. Aside from the nightmares, everything's going perfectly for me." I point to a stack of papers on the corner of my desk. "My essays are done and ready to be typed. I'm working on getting my letters of recommendation lined up now. The internship is better than I could ever imagine, and..." I let out a practiced, gushing sigh before continuing, "Corey Nash-he's amazing. I have a secret."

"What is it?" Kika arches her brows, interested but suspicious.

"I'm totally, completely, and absolutely falling for him."

"As if that's a secret. You text the guy every six minutes, and you blush like a little kid if we bring him up at all."

The shaking has almost stopped. I slap on an embarra.s.sed smile. "Well, he texts me back every five minutes. I think he's falling for me too. He's asked me out again. Roller skating!"

"Really!" Kika grins. "Date number two can be an appropriate place for a first kiss, you know?" She grins wider.

"It's not a movie. I'm not going to kiss him on the second date. Your first kiss is when you find out he's not a creeper. That discovery should take a really, REALLY, really long time. We aren't even close to that. Yet."

"OMG. OMG. You said YET! Meaning...you want to kiss him?"

"I..." I crack a real smile and blush thinking about it. There's no need for me to say anything more; Kika gets me, so I don't have to fake this.

"OMG!" Kika squeaks and is sucked into one of those contagious middle school giggle-fits. I burst out laughing along with her.

"What's all this noise in here?" Dad pokes his head into the room. "Mom sent me up because she thought she heard you two screaming and fighting. But I see no evidence of sibling war."

"Jess is going on another date. Roller skating...with a guy. The Corey guy." Kika chokes on another giggle.

"Hiking, now roller skating? I will say *no' if the next one involves a zip line or rock climbing." He smiles. "That explains all the screaming, I suppose. Is this true, Jess?" He steps into the room.

"Dad!" I quickly pull the covers over our heads so Dad will think I'm embarra.s.sed instead of hiding mine and Kika's blotchy, post-crying faces. "It's true. Okay?" I call through the comforter. "It's not that kind of date. We're friends, going skating with a bunch of other friends. That's all. Hear me? Friends. And I'm telling Kika all about it, not you, Dad...so carry on...report back to Mom, please."

Kika giggles in the dark next to me. "Yeah Dad, this is girl stuff," she adds.

"I a.s.sume we will get to meet this mystery guy," Dad says. From the sound of his voice he hasn't budged.

"Nope. You're never going to meet him!" I shout, and mean it. "He's just a friend. No reason for anyone to meet the parents. Yet," I add.

Right on cue, Kika giggles again. "Unless she kisses him, and he becomes her boyfriend. Then we get to meet him. You promised."

"Because that's not, at all, EVER, happening," I say. "If I do kiss this guy, I'll bring him by the house so Dad can kill him. How's that?"

"Sounds perfect." Dad laughs while Kika bursts into another fit of giggles. "And kill him I will," Dad adds, which makes Kika laugh louder.

I try to laugh too, but I'm about to suffocate. "Okay, Dad...I'm humiliated enough here, you can go anytime."

Thankfully, when I peek out of the blanket, Kika's still sighing and giggling. Her threat to tell our parents about my nightmare is forgotten, and Dad is long gone.

Divert successful.

Chapter Twenty-One.

Jess My first time roller skating has gone way beyond my low expectations. I've actually given it a rating of perfect despite the fact that the entire place is kind of whacked. Everything off the rink is covered with blue carpet and smells like old socks and stale sweat masked with Pine-Sol. It also blasts eighties pop non-stop, and has headache-worthy seventies disco lights.

But to me, it's become Cinderella's ballroom. I'm the girl crashing the party and dancing with the prince. This is total progress. Icing on the cake: Thanks to this date, I'd faced two other major teen firsts besides roller skating tonight: 1. An 11PM curfew and, 2. My new interrogator-style parents.

It's like the worried, do-whatever-you-want-sweetie-pie parents I used to have never existed. Tonight I'd been slapped with real live crankiness, a deadline and a long lecture about safety and making good choices before I'd left the house.

Double progress. This second date with Gray has earned me a first cla.s.s ticket on the normal train! But it's also come with an unexpected price. Because my parents are worried I might have a boyfriend, my perfect *give me privacy' set-up is now at an end.

I knew this would happen eventually, but the third week into my contract with Gray seems way too soon for the prying to begin. I suppose it's my fault for being too good at all this lying.

In order for Mom and Dad to allow me to leave the house at all, I'd promised that I'd bring Corey Nash home for a barbecue next Sunday. Worse, Corey's supposed to pick me up and drive me the next time we go out. The speeding away from the driveway trick really p.i.s.sed off Dad. They said if I was officially calling these outing dates-a word I'd used more than popcorn at the movies the past few days-then my boyfriend needed to man up. "Unless you're hiding something, honey," Mom had said, suspicion dripping off her.

I search for Gray, who'd offered to get us drinks but now seems to have disappeared. Gripping the half-wall that separates me from the zooming people skating on the rink, I half skate, half walk, toward a sitting area. I'm trying to imagine scenarios that might work to delay the barbecue.

Maybe Gray could convince Corey to be his *stand in' for one night; but I shudder at that thought. It would mean involving Corey in our contract, and I'm starting to like that everyone believes we're a real couple. Plus, Corey would blab the truth to the whole planet. Maybe not right away, but somewhere he'd slip up. The guy is just that type. Plus, I'd already imagined going back to school with only Gray and I holding onto this secret summer.

That feels safe-livable. Corey Nash...in my front yard eating Dad's special chili slapped on a grilled burger while pretending to be my boyfriend? That feels like the worst idea in the world.

I've run out of rink wall so I gingerly hold my hands out wide for balance and tap-clump my wheeled feet toward the rest area. My head's spinning. Partly due to the music and lights, partly due to the barbecue dinner problem, but mostly, because as of tonight, I'm admitting that I have a major, huge, impossible crush on Gray Porter.