Are You Still There Read Online Free PDF Page A

they’re nearly asleep.
    â€œYes. We’ve had a peer counseling program for a few years, but it’s sadly underutilized. We think students are afraid of being exposed in some way. That’s why we need something anonymous. We’ve got to make the students feel as if there is someplace confidential they can go when something’s bothering them.”
    I nod. I agree. I’m just not sure I’m the one to do it. I stick my hands back under my butt.
    â€œIt’ll be fun, Gabi. It’s like a secret society.”
    A secret society? “Okay,” I say slowly, half regretting it. “Let me check with my parents.”
    Mom says yes the moment she hears the magic words “volunteer opportunity.” It’s too bad I’m such a good kid. I could get away with anything if I told them it was a study group or a volunteer opportunity. I could probably run a successful Ritalin redistribution business without them having a clue.
    Sigh . And once again I’m stuck doing something I’d rather not. I need to practice saying “no” in the bathroom mirror. It shouldn’t be that hard. It’s only one syllable, for Pete’s sake.

Stranger’s Manifesto
    Entry 4
    In a sick way the worst week of my life
    Was the best week of my life.
    At the funeral, people actually saw me.
    Looked me in the eye as if I existed.
    Asked me if I was okay. Told me to hang in there.
    Hang. Bad choice of words.
    They even hugged me—as if I was real.
    But it was all a trick. A magic card trick.
    A slip of the hand, a freaking illusion with light.
    Because they forgot I don’t exist
    And when they remembered,
    I wanted to crawl into the deepest, darkest hole I could find.
    Because I knew—for a moment—
    What it felt like to be someone .
    And I liked it.
    Everyone’s whispering about Mr. Marks,
    Wondering about his arrest.
    I wonder too. Does he feel famous? Mysterious? Important?
    Or does he just feel
    Like a toxic piece of shit?
    I can’t help but wonder how I’ll feel when my time comes.
    I’ve pretty much got
    The piece-of-shit thing down.

6
    The drama room is so cold that every hair on my body prickles upright. Paisley stands at the front of the room, wearing a loose dress that falls all the way to her feet. I hope she doesn’t trip.
    â€œIf you’re sitting in this room, you’ve made a commitment to better your school,” she says to all fourteen of us who got suckered into this Sunday orientation-training. “You’ve agreed to keep this experience and our purpose entirely confidential.”
    Why do I feel like I just joined the Secret Service? Is it too late to back out now? Probably. There’s a sort of discomfort in the air, no doubt because none of us fully understand what we’ve gotten ourselves into.
    â€œWhat if we pick up the phone and it’s one of our friends?” someone asks.
    Dr. Paisley smiles. “This may happen. In fact, expect it to happen. That’s why we’ve been so careful in selecting you all. We picked students we felt had high moral standards and who came from a diverse number of social groups. We expect that if you recognize a caller, you’ll be able to keep it to yourself. And, of course, if a caller recognizes your voice, he or she has the discretion to decide whether to continue the call or not.”
    I’m not sure I like this.
    â€œWe’ll give you some basic skills and protocols to follow. You’ll work in pairs, so you’ll never be alone on a shift.”
    I don’t know about anyone else, but I feel like I’ve swallowed a golf ball. And there it sits, wedged in the top of my throat, making it difficult for me to breathe.
    â€œAll right, let’s pull our chairs into one big circle,” Paisley says.
    I wonder if anyone else is thinking about bolting for the door. There’s the obligatory scraping of chairs against the floor as we pull