"You're not fine. You're hurting, and you're bottling up your feelings. Taking out your anger on everyone around you won't do anyone any good."

That's so deep, Mom, I think. You should've gone into psychiatry.

When I don't respond, she exhales heavily. Then she gets up and goes.

Closure. I almost laugh. There is no closure. No such thing. Only open wounds. I can't even imagine they'll heal to the point of scabbing over.

Chapter 8.

As I'm reading all the new condolence messages people have left on my Facebook wall, I see that my friend request to Liana was accepted. It feels bizarre that she'd confirm me after her text to Swanee yesterday.

I link to her profile. She has 488 friends. It doesn't necessarily mean she's popular. She's accepting friends at will, the way I do. Not that I have people waiting in line. I search for Swanee's name in Liana's friends, but it's not there. "Swanelle Delaney" is. Liana's in a relations.h.i.+p with a person who doesn't exist.

But then, so am I.

Liana has lots of photo alb.u.ms. The first is a series of her in her cheerleading uniform, doing split jumps and contorting her body in midair. There's a shot of a squad of cheerleaders performing leg kicks in a line, then one of them lifting her onto a pyramid. Next, she's on top, raising a pom-pom.

The next alb.u.m is Liana with a litter of kittens around her. She's holding one up, nose to nose. A little calico. The expression on Liana's face is so serene. If Mom weren't allergic, I'd have a houseful of cats.

A family alb.u.m includes photos of people at Christmas. There's a photo of Liana in flannel pajamas, sitting with a baby on her lap and opened packages all around. The baby has her dark hair and huge eyes. Is it hers? Is that why Swanee thought cheerleaders were s.l.u.ts? Liana's relatives, I a.s.sume, are hamming it up for the camera, and then the family is sitting around a dining room table with a turkey and all the tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs.

There's a wedding where Liana is one of the bridesmaids.

Then I see an alb.u.m t.i.tled SWAN.

The pictures go on for pages and pages. The Smart car, Liana hanging out the window, waving to someone. Liana and Swanee wearing Joss's wigs at a roller rink. I bet Joss was elated about that-if she even knew. How often did Liana go to Swanee's house, or stay over?

I don't care I don't care I don't care.

Another picture with Swanee pinning Liana's arms to the ground. The two of them laughing, gazing into each other's eyes. Kissing.

I know I wasn't Swanee's first, but it's hard to look at the evidence of her loving someone else.

How long were they together? I wonder. Because I have maybe ten pictures in my Facebook alb.u.ms. She was always telling me, "Don't post my picture. I look fat."

Which was ridiculous. She was a lean, mean, running machine.

Joss would know how long Swan and Liana were together. In fact, she might be the one who took all the pictures of Swanee and Liana.

I call Joss that night and the first thing she says is, "Did you get my stuff?"

"Yeah. It's in your room. I didn't find her cell."

"It should've been there. I know she had it on her."

"I'm sorry. It's not there."

"Look again."

"Joss..."

"Never mind. I'll find it myself. I forgot to add that I want Swan's car keys. I get my permit this summer, and it's only fair that I get her car."

"I didn't see the keys, either," I tell her.

"Jewell or Asher must have them," she says. "Did you look around the house?"

I did, but not for Swanee's car keys. "No." A half-truth.

"Look in Jewell's purses."

"Joss, I'm not about to go through Jewell's belongings. Or Asher's."

The pout on her face carries long-distance.

"Well, that car is mine, and so is everything else of hers. She was my sister. Mine." Joss's voice cracks and she ends the call.

d.a.m.n. I didn't call to upset her. I just needed to ask more questions about Liana.

My cell chirps. Same number. I answer and Joss says, "Check Jewell's red leather hobo bag for the cell and keys. She had it with her at the hospital."

Joss's voice is steady and demanding. I don't want to get into it with her again, but I'm not going to scrounge through Jewell's purses.

"Can I ask you a couple more questions about Liana?"

Joss goes, "G.o.d. Can't you just drop it?"

"How long did they go together?"

Joss says, "I suck at math."

I grit my teeth. "I don't. Tell me when they met and I'll do the math."

"I don't know the exact date."

"Approximately."

She expels an exasperated breath. "Approximately August fifteenth."

"Of this year?"

"No. Nineteen eighty-four."

I ignore that. "How do you know?"

"I was there. It was during freshman orientation, and Swan volunteered to be my senior escort. We had this overnight camping trip in Estes Park, and Greeley West was having a cheerleading camp there at the same time. I guess their gaydars crossed."

August fifteenth was two weeks before school started. "Wasn't Swanee going with Rachel the first month of school or so?"

"Swan dumped her in October," Joss says.

I hate that expression. "So Swanee and Liana didn't start going out until after?"

Joss lets out a short laugh.

"What?"

"You might be good at math, but you suck at logic. Why do you think Swan gave Liana a fake name?"

I'm... stunned.

"Does that answer all your questions?" Joss says. "Aren't you glad you asked?" She ends the call.

Mom opens my door and says, "What are your plans for the day?"

Sleep. I didn't sleep all night, processing what Joss had told me. If Liana was the reason Swanee broke up with Rachel, does that make me "the other woman," too? Joss said Swan and Liana were over, but were they? Liana's text messages suggest otherwise.

"Alix?"

I'm still speechless.

"Your dad and I would like to go to a movie and were wondering if you'd mind babysitting."

That word jolts me back to reality. "I can't. Betheny asked me to help her with this... um... project."

Mom looks at me-through me-and smiles. "Tell Betheny she's welcome to come over and work on it here. I miss her. I've been wondering what happened between the two of you."

"Nothing happened." Swanee happened. I add, "We have to do it at her house because it's on her desktop." Where do I come up with this c.r.a.p? Who uses a desktop anymore?

"Do you think Betheny would mind if you took Ethan with you?"

"Mom, we wouldn't get anything done. He's a total distraction."

Her smile dissipates. "Fine. We won't go."

A knot of guilt forms in my stomach because they never go out together. "Can't you call Jennifer?" She's the owner of the day care where Ethan goes.

"I did. She's busy. We'll just go to the children's museum. Again."

Guilt-trip overload.

I can't babysit. The last time I did, I almost killed my baby brother. It was that day Mom and Dad left me and Swanee alone with Ethan. Swan was watching Pirates of the Caribbean for, like, the fifth time, and I was bored, so I had all my jewelry makings spread all over the floor.

It seems Swanee wasn't as into the movie as I thought because as soon as Mom and Dad left, she pushed me over and started kissing me. She had her hand up my s.h.i.+rt, tracing the outline of my bra and sticking fingers inside, and it felt so good, and I was losing control and just about to push her off when Ethan started choking.

His lips were turning blue and he was gasping for air and I freaked. I dug in his mouth but couldn't feel anything, so I bent him forward over my arm and began to pound his back. Hard enough to crack a rib, but I was panicking.

"Call 911," I told Swanee.

She just sat there.

All at once an object flew out of Ethan's mouth and he drew a deep breath. As if in reflex, he began to wail. I lifted him up and carried him around the room, trying to calm him. I'd never seen him cry so hard.

I warmed a bottle and he finally settled back in my lap, but I couldn't stop shaking.

"What did he swallow?" I asked Swanee.

She got up and found a slimy b.u.t.ton on the carpet. All I could think was, I'm so irresponsible, I'm so irresponsible.

And Swanee... She wanted to pick up where we left off.

After that Ethan always looked terrified whenever I came close. Like he knew he was in imminent danger.

I take a shower to wash the memory away, and it helps. A little. Lying on my bed, I log on to Facebook and see that no new condolences have been left on my wall. I don't know if I'm thankful or not. It's like Swanee's being forgotten, and it's only been two weeks.

There is a message waiting for me.

It's from Liana. One sentence: I don't understand She must've seen the few photos in my alb.u.m, and read my relations.h.i.+p status. I message Liana back: She lied to you. I almost add, She lied to both of us, but I have this revelation: What if Swanee did break up with Liana and Liana couldn't, or wouldn't, accept it? She might've been stalking Swanee. Swan never mentioned it to me, but maybe she didn't figure it was my problem. Or she ran out of time.

I go to unfriend Liana and see she's already responded to my message.

We need to talk. Call me?

She's included her phone number.

I don't want to call her. Now I just want her to go away, to never have existed. There's nothing and no one who can fill this void that's expanding inside me day by day. Knowing Swanee's past will only make the present more real.

I go to log off and see another message has arrived.

It's her again. Please?

s.h.i.+t. Why did I start this? Now I'm obligated to end it.

I nearly make the mistake of using Swanee's cell. Liana answers my call on the first ring. I say, "This is Alix."

She inhales and exhales a stuttered breath. "I can't believe she's dead." Liana barely gets the words out before she hiccups a sob. "I found her obituary online, and the date matched the one you said."

Her pain travels through me, and my eyes pool.

"Did you know Joss was texting me all this time?" she asks I cringe. "No."