was no chance my
parents would get back together. I was right, and their divorce
was fi nalized by Christmas.
Karen’s name was cleared, slowly, as bloggers began to retract
their earlier feeding- frenzy claims of plagiarization. But she never
published another book.
And though I hadn’t believed him at fi rst, my dad, true to his
word, stopped writing novels. He moved to Los Angeles that fall
and began his new career as a screenwriter specializing in mov-
ies about time- traveling animals.
The extent of what I’d done— and how many lives I’d inadver-
tently wrecked— still kept me up nights.
I started letters— to Hallie, to Karen, to my dad, all full of re-
morse and apologies— but never sent them. I tried to begin the
conversation with my dad a few times, but it soon became very
clear that he didn’t want to talk about the Bridges, or that sum-
mer, and started to get upset whenever I brought up either of
them.
I spent the fi rst few years actively searching for information
about Hallie and Karen online, always hoping that good news
would appear— that Karen had cleared her name and gone on to
bestsellerdom, that she and her kids were happier than ever. But
-1—
nothing ever came up. As far as I could tell, scouring Google with
0—
+1—
S 86 T
105-56018_ch01_3P.indd 86
105-56018_ch01_3P.indd 86
10/2/13 7:32 AM
10/2/13 7:32 AM
my heart sinking, she never wrote anything else or even held an-
other teaching position.
I also couldn’t fi nd out much about Hallie. She showed up on
Friendverse when everyone joined, of course, but her profi le was
private and I could get only the most cursory information from
it. I tried to tell myself, as I looked at her profi le intermittently
over the years, that she looked happy. That maybe I hadn’t done
irreparable damage after all.
I never told Sophie what I’d done, and when I started dating
Teddy— who was pretty much the embodiment of goodness— I
couldn’t help but hope that some of it would transfer to me, and
keep the evil side of me away for good. But mostly, I tried not to
think about what I’d done. And memories of the Bridges, and that
summer, had only come up intermittently, and in my darkest
moments.
Until today.
But as I looked out at the water, I realized that I was getting a
second chance. It was an opportunity to make up for what I’d done.
After all, Hallie wouldn’t see me as Gemma Tucker, the girl who
had been cruel to her, deliberately, over and over again. If Hallie
had read the journal, I knew she would never give me, actual me,
a chance to make things right. She wouldn’t believe me for a sec-
ond. I wasn’t even sure if she’d be willing to listen to me explain
how sorry I was.
But if she saw me as Sophie Curtis, friendly stranger, it could
be the opportunity that I needed. I would get to show her that I was
a good person. And then I would fi nally be able to apologize.
—-1
—0
—+1
S 87 T
105-56018_ch01_3P.indd 87
105-56018_ch01_3P.indd 87
10/2/13 7:32 AM
10/2/13 7:32 AM
I pushed myself up to standing, brushed the sand off my hands,
and walked back to Bruce’s house, feeling a lightness that I hadn’t
felt for a long time. Even though it was fi ve years later, I was fi nally
going to make things right. And if it didn’t work, I’d be in the
same position I was now, but at least I’d have tried.
And after all, what did I really have to lose?
-1—
0—
+1—
S 88 T
105-56018_ch01_3P.indd 88
105-56018_ch01_3P.indd 88
10/2/13 7:32 AM
10/2/13 7:32 AM
CHAPTER 7
“Name?”I froze as I reached for my wallet. I was at Quonset Coffee,
where I’d gone after hanging around the house for the last
two days. Since Bruce had dismantled his espresso machine
(cavemen, after all, got their energy from escaping near- maulings
by woolly mammoths, not cappuccino), I had fi nally been driven
into the world by my need for an iced latte. But I hadn’t expected
to
parents would get back together. I was right, and their divorce
was fi nalized by Christmas.
Karen’s name was cleared, slowly, as bloggers began to retract
their earlier feeding- frenzy claims of plagiarization. But she never
published another book.
And though I hadn’t believed him at fi rst, my dad, true to his
word, stopped writing novels. He moved to Los Angeles that fall
and began his new career as a screenwriter specializing in mov-
ies about time- traveling animals.
The extent of what I’d done— and how many lives I’d inadver-
tently wrecked— still kept me up nights.
I started letters— to Hallie, to Karen, to my dad, all full of re-
morse and apologies— but never sent them. I tried to begin the
conversation with my dad a few times, but it soon became very
clear that he didn’t want to talk about the Bridges, or that sum-
mer, and started to get upset whenever I brought up either of
them.
I spent the fi rst few years actively searching for information
about Hallie and Karen online, always hoping that good news
would appear— that Karen had cleared her name and gone on to
bestsellerdom, that she and her kids were happier than ever. But
-1—
nothing ever came up. As far as I could tell, scouring Google with
0—
+1—
S 86 T
105-56018_ch01_3P.indd 86
105-56018_ch01_3P.indd 86
10/2/13 7:32 AM
10/2/13 7:32 AM
my heart sinking, she never wrote anything else or even held an-
other teaching position.
I also couldn’t fi nd out much about Hallie. She showed up on
Friendverse when everyone joined, of course, but her profi le was
private and I could get only the most cursory information from
it. I tried to tell myself, as I looked at her profi le intermittently
over the years, that she looked happy. That maybe I hadn’t done
irreparable damage after all.
I never told Sophie what I’d done, and when I started dating
Teddy— who was pretty much the embodiment of goodness— I
couldn’t help but hope that some of it would transfer to me, and
keep the evil side of me away for good. But mostly, I tried not to
think about what I’d done. And memories of the Bridges, and that
summer, had only come up intermittently, and in my darkest
moments.
Until today.
But as I looked out at the water, I realized that I was getting a
second chance. It was an opportunity to make up for what I’d done.
After all, Hallie wouldn’t see me as Gemma Tucker, the girl who
had been cruel to her, deliberately, over and over again. If Hallie
had read the journal, I knew she would never give me, actual me,
a chance to make things right. She wouldn’t believe me for a sec-
ond. I wasn’t even sure if she’d be willing to listen to me explain
how sorry I was.
But if she saw me as Sophie Curtis, friendly stranger, it could
be the opportunity that I needed. I would get to show her that I was
a good person. And then I would fi nally be able to apologize.
—-1
—0
—+1
S 87 T
105-56018_ch01_3P.indd 87
105-56018_ch01_3P.indd 87
10/2/13 7:32 AM
10/2/13 7:32 AM
I pushed myself up to standing, brushed the sand off my hands,
and walked back to Bruce’s house, feeling a lightness that I hadn’t
felt for a long time. Even though it was fi ve years later, I was fi nally
going to make things right. And if it didn’t work, I’d be in the
same position I was now, but at least I’d have tried.
And after all, what did I really have to lose?
-1—
0—
+1—
S 88 T
105-56018_ch01_3P.indd 88
105-56018_ch01_3P.indd 88
10/2/13 7:32 AM
10/2/13 7:32 AM
CHAPTER 7
“Name?”I froze as I reached for my wallet. I was at Quonset Coffee,
where I’d gone after hanging around the house for the last
two days. Since Bruce had dismantled his espresso machine
(cavemen, after all, got their energy from escaping near- maulings
by woolly mammoths, not cappuccino), I had fi nally been driven
into the world by my need for an iced latte. But I hadn’t expected
to
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