I sat at the kitchen counter, eating chocolate pudding. It had been a few days since my phone call with my dad and a few days since Amber had said those things to me. But the anxious hole that she’d cut out of my chest with her vicious words was still there and still needed filling. It was so big and gaping that I knew nothing would fill it, though, certainly not chocolate. Things like chocolate only ended up making the hole deeper. After what she’d said to me, and the way she’d been watching me ever since, I’d avoided looking at Jake at school. I didn’t want to give her any more fuel to pour over my head, but it was hard to ignore him because we’d fallen into this habit of texting each other constantly. And pretending he didn’t exist at school would just be weird. But every time I looked at him, or spoke to him, a bolt of anxiety gripped me and I found myself looking around for Amber.

I looked up from the pudding cup. Zac was curled up on the couch, half-eaten dinner in front of him, watching TV, and my mother had headphones on while power walking on her treadmill. Every now and then I would hear a . . .

“I am bold. I am bright. I am beautiful.”

I watched her for a while, thinking about what Vicki had said. Was she just sad and lonely? Didn’t she trust the world around her? I thought about her lying in bed the other night, surrounded by tear-soaked tissues, but stopped when my phone suddenly rang. I jumped when I saw the caller ID. My heart thumped in my chest. This was it!

“Crap!” I knocked the chocolate pudding over my phone while trying to answer. “Craaap!” I grabbed a cloth and wiped my phone frantically.

“Crap, crap, crap!” Zac was on his feet, looking at me with concern.

“Shhh.” I raised my finger to my lips.

“Shhhhhh,” he shushed back at me, clearly unnerved by my outburst.

“I can’t, Zac. I can’t now. I need . . . Mom!” I yelled.

She didn’t reply. She’d turned up the speed on her treadmill. “Bold. Bright. Beautiful. Bold. Bright. Beautiful.” She swung her arms so hard that they looked like they would snap off at the elbows.

“Mom!” I yelled again.

“Mom! Mom! Mom!” Zac shouted. But still, she didn’t look up.

I grabbed my chocolate-smeared phone and raced for the guest toilet. I slammed the door behind me and sat on the floor with my back against the door.

“Lori!” Zac called as he banged on the door.

“Not now. Please,” I begged.

I took a deep breath and answered the phone. This must be good news. They said they would email us, but they were phoning me!

“Hi. Lori speaking.” I tried to sound like I hadn’t just locked myself in a toilet.