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“Just what?” Faith says.

“It’s just … he teased me.”

“That jerk! How could he be so insensitive?” Grace says.

“
No
! Not like that. Like in a good way. Like I was still me.”

I can see they don’t get it. Faith’s got that little crease between her eyebrows.

“But, Abby, you
are
still you,” she says. “Of course you are.”

They don’t understand. They can’t understand because they don’t know what happened in the motel room. They don’t know about the pictures and the video. They don’t know that I have to wonder every minute of every hour if some creepy guy somewhere is looking at pictures of me naked, or downloading that video of Luke doing it to me. They don’t understand how that changes you
.

We get to the door of my math class.

“Faith. I can’t tell you how much I wish I
were
the same me.” My voice catches. “But I’m not. And I don’t think I ever will be again.”

Well, one good thing’s come out of this. Nick Peters actually remembers my name.

“Hey,
Abby
,” he says, flashing me his perfect teeth when I walk into class. “Welcome back.”

Amanda gives me this fake look of concern.

“How
are
you? Is everything
okay
?”

“Um, thanks. I’m fine,” I lie.

I sit down and focus on the board, trying to ignore the stares of my classmates.

“You look great, Abby,” Nick says. “Really
fine
.”

The guy sitting next to him snickers.

I don’t get it. Nick’s never said anything about my looks before. He’s never even paid me much attention other than to copy my homework. I glance back at him briefly. He’s looking at me intently and grinning.

“Uh, thanks.”

I turn around and take out my pencil.

“
Slut!
”

It’s said quietly and as a half cough, but it’s definitely the word. Someone sitting near me. I think it’s Amanda. I’m afraid to turn around and look, especially because Mr. Evans is starting class.

Tears well up in my eyes but I can’t let them fall. Instead, I take myself away, so it’s as if I’m watching the scene in a movie and real Abby is somewhere else, somewhere she can’t be hurt by the sting of their words or the scorn of their glances.

“
Whore!
”

The same low half cough, but this time it’s from the other side and a guy. I feel sorry for the girl sitting in the math class, but she’s not me. I’m just an observer. The comments go on for ten minutes or so, until Mr. Evans remarks that there seems to be a lot of coughing going on and offers cough drops to anyone with a tickly throat. That shuts them up for a while, and lets the girl concentrate until the bell rings to signal that class is over.

Nick nudges me as I’m getting my books together and passes me a folded piece of paper with a smile and a wink. I still don’t get why he’s suddenly being so nice to me, especially now.

Slowly, I unfold the note and when I see what’s on the paper I’m drawn back into myself by the horror of it. I hear snickers and laughter and the half-coughing “slut” and “whore” but I’ve shrunk so far back within myself that it sounds like it’s coming from a great distance. Staring straight ahead, being sure not to make eye contact with anyone, I crumple the paper in the palm of my hand and walk to the classroom door. Faith and Grace aren’t there. Instead of waiting for them, I run the gauntlet of staring eyes and whispering mouths until I get to the nurse’s office, where I tell her I have an awful migraine and I need to go home.

Because on the paper Nick passed me was one of Luke’s pictures of me naked. Because now I realize that everybody knows.

CHAPTER 33
LILY
DECEMBER 15, EVENING

They’re shouting again. I turn up my iPod so I won’t have to hear Dad asking Abby over and over how could she, how could she go off with
that man
and Abby crying and crying and Mom telling Dad to shut up and leave Abby alone. It’s like Dad’s obsessed with it — which if you ask me is sick, but nobody is asking me anything. It’s like I don’t exist. Except Mom says I have to go to therapy, too. We
all
have to go so we get over the “posttraumatic stress,” blah blah. I don’t know why I have to go. I’m the only normal person in this house. You don’t see me running off with pervs I met online, do you?

But no, just because Abby was an idiot, I’m getting pulled along on this crazy train, too.

And school sucks because of her. Everyone’s been looking at me like I’m some kind of freak ever since my sister was on the news; first as an AMBER Alert and then when the police arrested Edmund/Luke/Pervert Face/Whateverhisnameis. Whatever social cred I had is shot. Permanently.

It’s not that I’m not happy Abby’s home safe and everything. I am. Even though life has been one great big suckfest ever since
she got back — I’m like the Invisible Kid in this house while everyone focuses on Abby, Abby, Abby.

But I wouldn’t trade places with Abby, not for a zillion dollars. Dad can barely look at her, and when he does he has this expression on his face like he just stepped in a big pile of dog poop. It makes
me
feel bad, so imagine what it feels like for Abby. Mom’s afraid to let Abby out of her sight. She even changed her work schedule so she can drive Abby to school and pick her up. Guess who still has to take the bus?

Everyone’s walking on eggshells all the time, trying not to make things worse, except for times like now when Dad can’t help himself and he starts off on Abby about
how
and
why
, and then the whole cycle starts over again.

The weird thing is, Abby’s not fighting back like she would have before. She just sits there and takes it like a rag doll. It’s so not the pain-in-the-butt sister I normally know and hate.

I hear her come up the stairs, crying, and the door to her room closes. It doesn’t even slam like it used to. And that’s what makes me want to go to her, even though it’s probably stupid, Lily, stupid.

It would be so much easier to just stay in here and listen to my tunes. It’s not like Abby ever wants to talk to me anyway. But I hear her crying even over Beyoncé. Whatever. I rip off my earphones and go to her room. I don’t knock when I open the door, and you know things are seriously bad with Abby because she doesn’t even yell at me.

She’s curled up on the bed, sobbing.

I don’t know what to say or do. It’s not like Abby and I get along, even. But I hate to see her like this, even if she has made
my life suck. So I lie down on the bed next to her and put my arm around her.

“Are you okay, Abby?” I ask, even though I know that’s probably the Stupidest Question Ever.

“D-d-dad h-hates m-me,” she sobs. “He th-thinks I’m a s-sl-ut.”

“Dad doesn’t hate you, Abs. You should have seen him when you were … you know, missing. He was, like, a total wreck. Mom was in way better shape, and she was pretty much a basket case, too. We all were.”

“He c-can’t even l-look at m-me. L-like he j-just l-looks over m-my h-head.”

I don’t know what to say. I mean, Dad’s seriously screwed up, that’s a fact. But then I see Abby’s perfectly neat desk and her totally organized bookshelf.

“Face it, Abs, you were Dad’s perfect little Abby Angel. You’re smart, you get good grades, you’re totally obsessively organized just like him. You’re almost his Dad clone but a girl. But you did this thing now that he doesn’t understand. I don’t understand either, Abs. And Dad can’t handle it.”

“Everyone at school looks at me l-like I’m the biggest freak that ever walked the p-planet Earth. I’m like the ebola virus — p-people want to stay as far away from m-me as possible.”

“I know how you feel.”

She sits up.

“What, they’re doing that to you, too?”

“Duh!
My sister ran off with an Internet perv. It was all over the papers and on TV. Do you think they’re, like, electing me student body president?”

Abby starts crying again.

“It would have been better for everyone if Luke had killed me and chopped me up with a wood chipper like Faith said.”

Now
that
ticks me off. Big-time.

“Oh, shut up!” I shout at her. “Like
that
would have been so great for me and Mom and Dad?”

I came in here to make Abby feel better, but right now I’m just mad, so mad I can’t help myself.

“And his name isn’t
Luke
, dammit. It’s
Edmund
. Edmund Schmidt.
He lied to you, Abby!
It was all one
great big lie
and you were stupid enough to fall for it and ruin everything for everyone.”

Abby just lies there, curled up like a baby, sobbing, and I feel like the Worst. Sister. Ever.

“I’m sorry, Abby. I suck. I didn’t mean —”

“What on earth
is going on in here?”

Mom stands in the doorway, glaring at me like she’s just caught me torturing puppies.

“Lily, out of here. NOW.”

“I was just …”

“I don’t want to hear it.
Go to your room!
”

I look back at Abby, wanting to make it right, but she’s still crying into her pillow.

I don’t know if there’s a way to ever make things right again.

CHAPTER 34
ABBY
DECEMBER 17

The therapist’s office is modern, with fern plants and one of those little Zen waterfall things that’s supposed to make you relaxed. I was expecting a real shrink couch, where I could lie down and pretend to go to sleep so I wouldn’t have to answer her questions. Instead, I have to sit across from her in a funky black leather armchair that I keep sliding around in. I have to take off my shoes and sit cross-legged to get comfortable.

My mother is outside in the waiting room. I hope that white-noise thing works, because I don’t want her to hear. Not that I’m planning to say anything, but … whatever.

“Hi, Abby. I’m Dr. Binnie. What brings you here?”

Like she doesn’t already know
.

“I thought my parents told you.”

“I’d like to hear what you have to say.”

I don’t want to say anything. I don’t want to talk about Luke or about what happened. I want it all to go away. But she’s just sitting there, staring me out, waiting for me to open my mouth. It’s like a game of chicken — which of us is going to break the silence first?

It’s me.

“I met this older guy online and I ran away with him. Now I’ve screwed up everyone’s lives, my dad and my sister hate me, and my mom thinks I need a jailor.”

“Why do you think your father and sister hate you?”

“Because they think it’s all my fault. Because I was stupid enough to run away with Luke.”

I give this grim half chuckle.

“It’s not like they’re the only ones. Everyone at school thinks so, too. Except Faith. And Grace. And well, Faith and Grace might think so, but they at least stick up for me when everyone else is being a jerk.”

“Faith and Grace are …?”

“Faith’s my best friend. Since second grade. I just met Grace this year. Through Faith. At first I was kind of jealous of her, ’cause I kind of felt like, I don’t know, maybe Faith would … end up liking her better than me. But she’s been nice to me since … it all happened. Oh, and so has Billy.”

“Tell me about Billy.”

“He’s a guy in my science class. We went on a date before … you know … and I liked him … but then when I got all wrapped up with Luke, it got too confusing.”

I told u, I’m the jealous type.
No. I can’t think of Luke.

“The funny thing is, Billy has every reason to hate me, but he’s one of the few people who still likes me. He calls me a lot — like almost every night — just to see how I’m doing. I mean, he said he still doesn’t understand what made me do it, and he says he really hopes someday I can explain it to him, but it doesn’t stop him from joking with me in class like I’m the same smart, normal Abby I was before. Not the stupid ‘ho’ that everyone thinks I am now.”

“And what do you think? Do you think you were stupid?”

Silence, except for the sound of the Zen waterfall, which now that I think about it sounds more like there’s a dwarf peeing in the corner.

“Well,
duh
. I mean, like, Luke told me he loved me and I was stupid enough to believe him. Meanwhile he was telling all these other girls that he was in love with them, too. So, yeah, I guess I pretty much should get the Stupid Idiot of the Year Award.”

“Do you think you deserve everyone at school being a jerk to you?”

“I can’t blame anyone. I would think the same thing about me if I were them. I mean, Luke’s name isn’t even Luke. It’s Edmund. He even lied about his name. And his age. And where he lived. And it’s not like we haven’t had all those Internet Safety talks at school a zillion times. I just …”

I pick at a stray thread that’s fraying at the bottom of my jeans.

“He didn’t seem like a creep. I thought he really cared about me.”

Tears well up in my eyes, and I reach for the box of tissues on the table next to me.

“I think that’s what hurts the most. Almost as much as my family hating me and everyone at school being mean. That it was all a lie. I ruined
everything
because of one great big huge lie.”

“Abby, it’s important for you to realize that these predators are highly skilled at manipulating young people,” Dr. Binnie says. “It’s a process we call ‘grooming.’ It’s all about winning your trust for the sole purpose of sexual exploitation.”

I feel my cheeks fire up when she says
sexual exploitation
. I wonder if she knows about the online pictures, about the video, that I’m Abby the Teen Porn Queen. Imagine how that will look on my college application.

“You are the victim here, Abby. A victim of a crime. Did you make some bad decisions? Yes. But you are still the victim of a felony crime, and you shouldn’t let anyone make you forget that.”

“But it’s not like he stole me off the street and kept me in a shed for eighteen years like that girl,” I say. “She really
was
a victim. I left by myself. Like, that’s what Dad keeps going on about. How could I have gotten into the car with Luke? What was going through my head? Dad’s totally blaming me for it. He doesn’t think I’m a victim at all.”

“We’ll be having some family therapy sessions to work through that, Abby. But what’s important is for
you
to recognize that you were a victim here.”

I try to absorb what she’s saying, but all I can hear is my dad’s voice:
How could you get in the car with that monster, Abby? How could you be so stupid and irresponsible? I don’t even know you anymore.
Or Lily:
It was all one great big lie and you were stupid enough to fall for it and ruin everything for everyone
.

“Yeah. I guess.”

“You don’t believe me.”

“I don’t know what to believe anymore.”

“Luke won your trust, and then he violated it. I’m not surprised you’re having problems trusting and believing. But I hope we can work on that together.”

She smiles at me for the first time, and I want to believe her, to believe that maybe I’m not this total piece-of-crap person and
that maybe life will be okay again someday. I want to believe her so badly.

But all I feel is tired. Tired and afraid to believe in anyone or anything. And wishing like hell that I never had to go back to school ever again.