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the wall. Giving me the eye.
    Guess he’s decided to remember who I am after all. Funny how he only does that whenever I’m with another guy.
    He’s jealous. It’s obvious.
    If it weren’t James, I might be flattered.
    I mean, jealousy means someone cares about you, right?
    Not with James. He thinks that once I’ve been his girlfriend, I couldn’t possibly be attracted to anyone else.
    Like I care about Brendan, anyway.
    Like I care at all.
    Study hall
    Maggie the yo-yo.
    Just now, in the hallway, she tells me she’s been thinking about the session all day.
    “Are you going?” I ask.
    She gives me a funny look. “I never said I wasn’t.”
    Yes.
    “So...I’ll met you after school?” I ask.
    “Yeah. See you.”
    She looks so sad as she walks off, Nbook. As if I’m taking her to a funeral.
    Have I forced her into this?
    Now even I’m starting to have doubts.
    024
    9:14 P.M.
    I’m exhausted.
    But I have to write this down, Nbook. Even if it takes me all night.
    OK. I’m in the hallway after school. Waiting for Maggie. I see Ducky. He offers me a ride home.
    I don’t want to tell him where I’m going, which would lead to why. So I say no.
    Then Maggie shows up. She’s looking all glum and tortured. I can tell she’s afraid. Still second-guessing.
    “Girl, what’s with you?” Ducky asks.
    “Nothing,” Maggie mumbles.
    Please, please, please don’t pry, I’m thinking.
    Next thing you know, we’re all in his car. Me in the back, them in the front.
    “Maggie first,” I say. I call out Dr. Fuentes address.
    Ducky, of course. Is Ducky. He knows that’s not where Maggie lives, but he can’t stop asking questions. Who are you visiting? Anyone I know?
    Maggie’s giving him shirt answers. Changing the subject.
    Ducky’s saying, A doctor? A dentist? A spiritual healer? A boyfriend?
    I’m cringing.
    Finally Maggie says, “A therapist, all right? I’m going to see a therapist but that’s between us three and Dawn.”
    “Oh,” Ducky nods. “Cool beans.”
    Nobody says anything for awhile. Good old Ducky has sized up the situation. He knows he needs to back off.
    Finally he said, “It would be great to know about a new therapist.”
    Maggie looks concerned. “Are you having problems too?”
    “No,” Ducky says. “I’m fine. It’s for Alex. For future reference. He’s been playing musical therapists. One of these days he’ll find someone who works. So I’m collecting names.”
    I’m thinking, Hey, I should be a referral service.
    We pull up to Dr. Fuentes’s house. It’s medium-sized. Nice. the office is in a small wing off to the side.
    Maggie steps out. Ducky and I wish her good luck.
    “We’ll pick you up,” Ducky volunteers. “How long’s the session?”
    “Forty-five minutes,” I say.
    Maggie’s staring at me she looks scared. “You’re not leaving.”
    A statement. Not a question.
    “I’m not?”
    “No way, Amalia. I need you.”
    I know I should drive off with Ducky. For Maggie’s own good. This is her life, her session. She’ll be stronger if she faces her problem on her own. She may want to admit things to Dr. Fuentes that she wouldn’t admit to me.
    But panic is shooting across her face. Panic and fear and surprise. As if I’m betraying her. Abandoning her.
    I can’t bear to leave her like tat.
    So I stay,
    We wave to Ducky as he drives off.
    We walk up the path, through the office door, and into a small waiting room.
    No one else is there. Just a stack of magazines on a coffee table. Off to the side, behind a closed door, we hear muffled voices. A white-noise machine is hissing on the floor, but it doesn’t block out the sound.
    Maggie paces.
    I sit and pretend to read magazines.
    Soon Dr. Fuentes’s patient leaves. Few minutes later, Dr, Fuentes leans out of her office door in a rust-and-gold silk patterned skirt and a billowy white blouse. Her eyes are big and still and brown, her smile warm and brown.
    She asks Maggie in, making sure to say hi to me. Then