I was a total fool to ever believe that someone could save me, or thaw the frozen death inside me. Oh Ian, if only you could.

I would run away with you today!

The brakes squeal and the bus coughs up diesel, and as the next group boards, I notice a Chevy Avalanche drive by. It's Mick.

And glued to him is Madison.

401.

Fine by Me Although at least one person I could name will probably not be happy about this reunion.

But, hey, if it means Madison will leave me the hell alone, more power to Mick. Poor guy.

The bus pulls curbside at school, and I'm the first one off. I go straight to my locker, half hoping **

I won't see Ian. The other half needs desperately to see him.

But the bell rings, Ian-less.

I zombie walk between classes, sit through hours of lecture without hearing a single word.

Finally it's lunch, and there's Ian, by the library. I start to wave, think about running into his arms, **

lifting my face to his for a kiss.

But then his face morphs into Daddy's, and I duck into the bathroom.

402.

Safe in the Far Stall I wait for the bell to ring, picking at a scab or two.

The one on my ankle is recent.

I open it wide, encourage the flow. It's like milking venom from my veins.

Wonder how long it would take to bleed out completely.

Other girls come and go.

Talking. Laughing. Sniping.

A couple dare light up cigarettes, and I almost ask for a drag. Filling my lungs with nicotine gas just might take the edge off.

But the last thing I need is to get busted smoking in the bathroom at school.

Think what my suspension would do to my parents'

spotless reputations. Second- hand Marlboros will have to do.

403.

I'm Watching Blood Drip Onto a wad of TP when my cell signals a text message coming.

Ian, of course.

R u ok? Saw u run in2 the bathroom. I'm w8ing 4 u to come out.

Looks like I'll have to oblige.

Can't hide in here forever.

Into the bowl goes the bloody tissue. One mighty flush. So long.

Would be nice to so easily get rid of all of life's varied detritus.

My fingers are tinted with blood.

I go to the sink, drawing a horrified **

stare from the freshman standing adjacent. "Bloody nose," I explain.

She accepts the explanation.

Hate when that happens.

Excuses. Excuses. So many excuses.

Too bad mine always seem to work.

404.

With Everyone, That Is Except Ian. When I offer the bloody nose pretext, he assesses me head to foot.

Really.

.., he says.

Did you clean up your nose with your pants?

What are you, triple-jointed?

I glance down, find one leg of my white jeans striped a dark shade of crimson.

My face flares a matching color. "Oh, that. I cut myself shaving this morning."

He pulls me into him.

Be more careful, okay? Don't want you to bleed to death.

His sincerity, and the warmth of him dispel every little bit of doubt. Okay, maybe not **

every single bit. My heart says I'm so, so his. But, asks my head, is he so, so mine?

405.

So, So Mine or Not I agree to let him drive me home after school. It's a long afternoon until the final bell releases me from Monday PE and the usual locker-room drama. Madison wears "smug" like sun- block, greasing her face to an oily gleam.

What she doesn't seem to get is it doesn't bother me one little bit.

Once a bitch, always a bitch, with or without a boyfriend who has drunk a six-pack or eight too many.

Psychic says: Train wreck on the horizon.

Ian is waiting for me, and I push all thoughts of Daddy away as I lean forward to kiss him. Oh, yes. This is what a kiss should be. Not wet.

Not hungry. No ego here. It's all about me. I intensely love this guy.

He takes a roundabout route home, stops down near the river. Okay, it's mostly a dry river, but who cares?

My heart races, exhilarated at the ride and at the possibility of what might come next. Now. Tomorrow. Beyond.

406.

Ian Kills the Motor Drops the kickstand, takes off his helmet, and I eighty-six mine.

He reaches for my hand, leads me across the sand. Finally **

he stops, turns to me. I expect a kiss. Instead I get words.

I.

know you have to get home, but I really think we need to talk.

So much for tomorrow.

What can I say but, "Okay."

This is not at all going where I predicted it would.

You know I've loved you for a long time. To believe you might love me back is all I've ever wanted....

Words spew, an eruption of emotion. "I do, Ian, I do love you. I know I haven't always acted like it, but--'

Shush. Let me talk. Now I need more from you. I need to believe you trust me enough to not keep secrets. To share your secrets.