“I wrote another letter to my mother,” I said. “Can I read it?” I didn’t wait for her to answer. “I can’t believe I’m still trying to protect my image of you.” My voice was an octave higher and quivering like a frightened bunny. “You have taken my weaknesses, insecurities, and confessions and used them all against me.” My hands were shaking, I could barely read what I had written. “I won’t ever let you near my heart again,” I said, and I threw my notebook across the floor as if it were on fire.

“Good work,” I heard Richard say.

I felt completely exposed, as though my clothes had been suddenly stripped away. “Do you want to take the bat and beat the cushion?” Charlotte asked.

“No,” I said. “I’m okay.”

“Do you want to squeeze my hands and scream?”

I did want to. “I don’t,” I said a little too loudly. Then, softer, “I just don’t. I’m sorry.”

When it was time to break for dinner I called my father from the client phone. It was the first time I’d called since getting to the Ledge. “I need to talk to you about something,” I said after he answered. “Do you have a minute?”

There was silence on the other end. “Dad?”

He coughed, then cleared his throat. “Ash just put dinner on the table.”

I could sense he didn’t know what to do, that he was afraid of upsetting me, but more concerned about upsetting Ash. His uncertainty made me want to scream. “Fine,” I said, “so, we’ll talk next week, then?”

“Yeah,” he stammered. “Okay.”

I hung up and stepped out of the booth. Molly, Alex, and Greg were all huddled around the ping-pong table. They immediately stopped talking when they noticed me. “What’s going on?” I asked.

“Oh, nothing really,” Greg stammered. “We were just saying how pissed you got, reading that letter. It was pretty shocking!”

“So you were talking about me behind my back?”

“No,” Molly chimed in. “We just—”