But there was something else about it as well. Something familiar. I realized what it was—a thin magenta glow around every letter. I went to my desk and pulled open a few drawers until I found it—last year’s yearbook. Clumsily, frantically, I flipped through the opening pages, scanning. Finding nothing, I opened the back.

There it was.

I can’t wait to see what this summer brings. LOVE! Jones

Each and every letter ringed with a magenta glow. I took the yearbook to the bed and compared it to the writing in the journal. It matched perfectly. I slammed the journal shut and saw on the back cover a notation from an L.A. County juvenile detention center that it had been inspected and approved.

Son of a bitch.

Jones had been watching me. He’d been writing it all down. And he’d been feeding it to Luna.

My gut lurched up into my throat. I jumped up and crossed the room, pulling my curtains shut angrily. I went through every room in my house doing the same. I felt violated, and even though Jones was dead, Peter and Luna weren’t, and I still felt vulnerable. Who were they using to report my every move now?

Restless, I turned on some music and cranked the volume. I turned out the lights and sat on my bed, letting the music envelop me. Letting it hatch a plan inside me. In the darkness, I fumbled through my nightstand for my leftover pack of cigarettes and an old lighter. The flame flicked open the darkness for just a moment, and then there was the red glow of the end of my cigarette.

I needed to calm down. I needed to get some sleep. To center myself.

I had a boat to crash the next day.

28

NICE OF YOU to stop by.”

I jumped, nearly dropping the yogurt I’d taken out of the refrigerator on the fly. I hadn’t even noticed Dad sitting at the kitchen table, his bathrobe open to expose a white V-neck, boxer shorts, and tube socks. What I used to call his Dad Uniform, back when I felt comfortable enough with him to tease him. He had his laptop open and was browsing the news.

“You scared me,” I said. “I was just leaving.”

“Broken record,” he said to the screen. “I almost forgot you lived here.”

“Don’t be dramatic.” I pulled the foil off the top of the yogurt and licked it clean, grabbing a spoon out of the drawer at the same time.

His eyes flicked up to me. “It’s dramatic to miss your daughter?”

“It’s normal for someone my age to be gone all the time. If I was like everyone else, I would be off at college right now.”

“But you’re not like everyone else.”

I paused with a spoonful of yogurt halfway to my mouth. “Thanks for that.”