Read it,” they’re both telling me as we zoom off. “Read it out loud.”

I stammer through my answer. “I should . . . um . . . I should read it alone first.”

I’m glad I had help in retrieving it, but I don’t want to give my friends more than they can handle all at once. And I know whatever’s in here will be horrifying.

When we make it to my house, Allister gets out and walks me to my door. “Sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable today,” he says.

“It’s okay. It’s nothing compared to . . . everything else.”

“I know, but let me know if you need anything. Really. Even as a friend.”

He steps off my porch like each step carries the weight of the world. My heart feels just as heavy watching him go down my driveway.

I run upstairs, fall on my bed, open the book, and read.

And read, about his mother.

And read, about his psychiatrist, and his sister, and his uncle.

I can hardly stomach the words from the mind of this kid. Well, deranged ghost. Dead stalker who once was a human trying to survive home and school, just like me. Not just a spirit showing up at random and leaving, but a full-fledged human who was here once, trying to navigate his life, just like me.

Just like me . . .

Just like me . . .

I fling the diary under my bed and curl up for a nap under the last escaping bit of daylight. I should wake up soon enough to stay awake all night.

Just like me.

He’s in my nightmare, chasing me down the hallways of St. Clair. The lights flicker, and the gun goes off like a piledriver. It wakes me up, soaked in sweat, with an aching chest.

The sheets are wet, so I strip them, toss them in the wash, and rest my palms on the machine as the cycle starts.

Allister’s words come back to me in a flash—I have kind of a crush on you.

That’s sweet. Really exciting. Words like that are supposed to make me feel good. Instead, they just feel hard to believe. I’m not convinced they weren’t part of some dream. But if he really does like me, and I like him back, that means normal social interaction is just happening in a non-chaotic way in my life. I don’t remember becoming worthy of something so nice.

I get in the shower and scrub off the stench of sweat in lukewarm water. The water escapes down the drain, and I wish I could go with it. I have no idea how I’ll ever tell anyone that I’m gay.