On the wall above his bed, if you look close enough, you can see the paint strokes Mom left when they were decorating. I love you, she wrote, too thick to be completely covered, a blemish unless you know the truth.

I feel the cut in my foot lightly throbbing, but when I check, it seems to be healing.

I don’t know what I expected after three weeks of being live, but it wasn’t this.

Holding the photo of me and Mom, I say, “I’ll try harder.”

Then I take the drawing of the magpie out of my bag and cover the 4 so instead of 14, it says 1.

That is what I need to focus on.

She is all that matters.

Chapter 54

When I get home from school the next day, my window has been replaced, and the wood Dad used to board it up is back in the garage. There’s a letter by the door, and inside is a copy of Sara’s article from the Messenger.

Over the story, in thick red pen, someone has written:

I’LL SHOW YOU HOW PATHETIC I AM.

I look back at the envelope, which has my name on it but no address. Whoever did this put it at my door.

I compare it to the drawing of the magpie and the number 14, but it is impossible to tell if they’re from the same person.

In one interview, I called him a freak show. In another, I said he must be weak to always target women. Today, to one of the last tabloids to arrive at my door, I said the Magpie Man should do us all a favor and kill himself.

I wanted to bait him. I thought the best way to stop him being careful was to piss him off.

It looks like I have.

Chapter 55

Danny texts to say the producers have agreed to let me go to Mayfield Lodge without him. But will the retreat still let me come if I bring psychos to the window?

If things don’t work out, this will be my last show, and I suddenly realize how much I need Danny and Michael. They make this so much easier. Without them, I’m scared I’ll mess it up.

After theology, I ask Mr. Humphries if he thinks it’s a good idea, if someone like me is meant for something like Mayfield Lodge.

“What do you mean, Jess?”

“It’s a spiritual place, right? It’s a quiet place?”

“It is.”

“I’m neither of those things.”

He laughs and sits on the edge of his desk. “Maybe that’s the point. Maybe you need a little more quiet.”

This is one of the reasons he’s my favorite—because he never acts like I’m a burden. Teachers are always saying how little time they have, but if you need him, Mr. Humphries is there to help.

“Aren’t you scared, taking me on the trip?”