"I'll call your dad and tell him how it went. He'll be here on Thursday to meet Dr. Bloom after your next appointment."

Great.

Marah nodded and headed down the hall toward the guest bedroom, which looked like a suite in some elegant hotel.

She couldn't believe she'd agreed to go to a teen grief therapy meeting. What in the hell would she say to strangers? Would they make her talk about her mom?

Anxiety seeped through her, turning into a physical presence, like bugs crawling on her skin.

Skin.

She didn't mean to go to the closet, didn't want to, but this buzzing in her blood was making her crazy. It was like listening to some staticky overseas line where a dozen conversations tumbled over each other and, no matter how hard you listened, you couldn't hear anything that made sense.

Her hands were shaking as she opened her suitcase and reached inside the interior pocket.

Opening it, she found the small Space Needle knife and several squares of bloodstained gauze.

She pushed her sleeve up, until her bicep was revealed, so thin it was just a knot of muscle, pale in the darkness, as soft and white as the inside of a pear. Dozens of scar lines crisscrossed her skin, like spiderwebs.

She touched the sharp tip of the blade to her skin and poked hard, then cut. Blood bubbled up. It was beautiful, rich, red. She watched her blood well and fall, like tears, into her waiting palm. Every bad emotion filled those drops of blood and fell away, left her body.

"I'm fine," she whispered.

I am the only one who can hurt me. Only me.

Unable to sleep that night, as Marah lay in the bed that wasn't hers, in a city that used to feel like home, listening to the nothingness that came from being perched in a jewel box high above the city, she replayed tonight's conversation with her dad.

Fine, she'd said when he asked how the meeting with Dr. Bloom had gone. But even as she said it, she thought: How come no one asks me how I can be so fine all the time?

You can talk to me, he'd said.

Really? she'd snapped. Now you want to talk. But when she heard him sigh she wanted to take it back.

Marah, how the hell did we get here?

She'd hated the disappointment in his voice; it made her feel both guilty and ashamed.

I'm going to a teen grief support meeting Wednesday night. Doesn't that sound fun?

I'll be there on Thursday. I promise.

Sure.

I'm proud of you, Marah. It's hard to face pain.

She'd fought for composure, felt the sting of tears. Memories had besieged her-times she'd fallen or been hurt and run to her daddy for a hug. His arms had been so strong and protective.

When had he held her last? She couldn't remember. In the past year, she'd pulled back from the people who loved her, and grown fragile in their absence, but she didn't know how to change. She was always afraid of bursting into tears and revealing her pain.

The next morning, she woke feeling sluggish and headachy. Needing coffee, she put on a robe that belonged to Tully and wandered out of her room.

She found Tully asleep on the sofa, one arm flung onto the coffee table. An empty wineglass lay on its side on the table, a pile of papers beside it. There was a small orange prescription pill container near it.

"Tully?"

Tully sat up slowly, looking a little pale. "Oh. Marah." She rubbed her eyes and shook her head as if to clear it. "What time is it?" Her speech was slow.

"Almost ten."

"Ten! Shit. Get dressed."

Marah frowned. "Are we going somewhere?"

"I have a surprise planned for you."

"I don't want to be surprised."

"Of course you do. Go. Take a shower." Tully shooed her down the hall. "Meet me in twenty."

Marah took a shower and put on a pair of baggy jeans and an oversized T-shirt. Without bothering to dry her hair, she pulled it back in a ponytail and went out into the kitchen.

Tully was already there, dressed in a blue suit that was at least a size too small. She was taking a pill and washing it down with coffee when Marah came up beside her.

Tully yelped when Marah touched her, as if surprised. Then she laughed. "Sorry. Didn't hear you come up."

"You're acting weird," Marah said.

"I'm excited. About my surprise."

"I told you. No surprises." Marah eyed her. "What are you taking?"

"The pill? It's a vitamin. At my age, you can't forget vitamins." She studied Marah, frowned. "Is that what you're wearing?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"No makeup, even?"

Marah rolled her eyes. "What am I doing, trying out for America's Next Top Model?" The doorbell rang. Marah was instantly suspicious. "Who's that?"

"Come on," Tully said, smiling now, herding her toward the door. "Open it," she said.

Marah opened the door cautiously.

Ashley, Lindsey, and Coral stood there, clustered together. When they saw Marah they screamed-really, it was this ear-piercing shriek-and surged toward her, pulling her into a group hug.

Marah felt as if she were experiencing it all from some great distance. She heard their voices but couldn't quite make out what they were saying. Before she knew it, she was being swept out of the condo on the tide of her three best friends' enthusiasm. They were all talking to her at once as they climbed into Coral's Honda and drove down to the ferry terminal, where a boat was waiting. They drove right on and parked.