This Song Will Save Your Life

“She can be whoever she wants to be,” Steve answered.

“No,” I said. “She can’t. Nobody can. And you’re not doing her any favors by telling her that she can because she’s special. Look at me. Look at me. I’m ugly and boring and stuck-up. I’m awkward and gross; I’m pathetic and worthless. Do you think that’s who I wanted to be?”

I blinked and behind my closed eyelids could see only Char, again, dismissing me.

“Alex doesn’t need to have the best booth at the second grade fair,” I went on. “She needs a reality check, diminished ambition, and some non-imaginary friends. And that’s what I am trying to give her.”

“Elise did it?” Alex’s gray-blue eyes grew wide as she finally figured out what we were talking about. Her face contorted into an ugly, silent howl, and Mom held her even more tightly.

“Do you honestly believe that?” Mom asked me. “That you’re boring and worthless and all of that? Because you’re not, Elise. You’re nothing like that.”

“Open your eyes!” I screamed. “That’s exactly who I am. And I am trying to be a good big sister, so instead of two screwed-up daughters you’ll have only one. I’m sorry if you don’t like it, but I am doing the best I can. And in ten years, when Alex is happy, maybe you’ll see that I was right.”

I didn’t want Alex to ever have to lose someone the way that I lost Char. She deserved better than that.

“Elise, this is unacceptable,” Steve said. He cleared his throat. “I’m not comfortable having you near my children right now.”

His words were like a slap in the face. I was Steve’s child. He had been my stepfather for nine years. And since my own dad was so angry with me these days, Steve was the next best thing.

“What are you saying?” I whispered. My legs felt suddenly weak under me, and I sat down, right there on the floor.

“I want you to stay at your father’s until this whole situation has cooled down,” Steve said, rubbing the bald spot on the back of his head. “Maybe for a few weeks. I’m sorry, but I can’t have you putting my children in danger.”

My children.

“You are so grounded, young lady,” Mom added. “You are going to go to school, and then you are going straight to your father’s house, and you are not leaving there. End of story.” To my sister, she said, “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s go wash off those tears.”

I pulled myself to my feet and dragged myself back to my room.

I had done Alex a favor. In the long run, this would make Alex happier. It would make everyone happier.

But right now, I didn’t feel happier at all. If anything, I just felt worse.

*   *   *

By next Thursday, the day before my first party, I had made up my mind: I wasn’t going to do it. I was going to tell Pete that I couldn’t, I wasn’t experienced enough, I didn’t have the technical skills. And I was going to offer the party to Char. Pete had said I could do whatever I wanted with Friday nights, and this was what I wanted to do.

Because I was grounded, I hadn’t seen Vicky for a full week. My parents had taken away my cell, so I didn’t even have her phone number to call her. In a way I was glad for this, since I knew that if I told Vicky my plan, she would try to talk me out of it.

I was going to go to Start tonight and tell Char that he was right: I wasn’t as good as all that, and I needed him. And he would take over Friday nights. Maybe he would even be generous and let me do a guest slot. And everything would go back to the way it had been, back when things were good enough, before I ruined it all by trying to make it better.

I knew this plan was a last-ditch effort, coming too late and unlikely to work. But I also knew I had to try. Because what else did I have?

My first obstacle was figuring out how to get from my dad’s house to Start on Thursday night. My dad had taken the week off from work so that he could constantly monitor me. I hadn’t been allowed back at my mom’s house since Friday. I hadn’t even been allowed to talk to Alex on the phone.

The problem was that my dad’s house was about nine miles from the club. I was grounded. And it was pouring rain, one of those June storms that sounds like the God of Weather roaring at you, “You shall never have your summer!” Even if I wanted to sneak out of the house and walk nine miles, I wouldn’t have made it.

What I needed was a ride.

After di

No matter how I thought about it, I kept coming up with one idea. She wouldn’t like it, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

I grabbed my father’s landline. I grabbed my school directory. And I dialed.

“Hello?”

“I need your help,” I said.

“Oh, thank goodness,” said Sally. “I thought you would never ask. Okay, the first thing is: You are not alone. The second thing is: Suicide is not the answer. The third thing is … Wait, I forget.” Her voice became muffled and I heard her say, “Chava, what’s the third thing?”

“Sally,” I said. “That’s not what I need your help with.”

“Oh. Wait, what else do you need?”

“Do you have any plans tonight?”

“It’s a school night,” Sally answered.

I paused. “So is that a no?”

“Chava’s over,” Sally said. “We’re doing homework.”

“Great. Can you pick me up at my dad’s and then drive me somewhere?”

“Um … why?” I could almost hear Sally raising her eyebrows.

“I just have this thing I need to do.”

Sally lowered her voice. “Is it a drug deal?”

I sighed, very quietly. “It’s not a drug deal,” I said.

“Let me ask.”

I overheard some footsteps and shuffling and muffled conversation. A couple minutes later, Sally got back on the line. “Yes,” she said.

“Yes!” I squealed.

“But I can’t take the highway.”

“You don’t have to.”

“And I can’t drive faster than twenty-five miles an hour.”

I paused. “Sally, your parents won’t know if you drive, like, thirty miles an hour.”

“They told me about this story they once read about a boy who went drag racing in the rain, and then he crashed his car.”

“Wow,” I said.

“And died,” Sally added.

“Fine,” I said. “We can drive at twenty-five miles an hour. Can you come get me at ten?” I gave her my dad’s address, then added, “But can you just wait down the block, not right outside the house?”

She was silent for a moment. “Are you sure this isn’t a drug deal?”

“Positive.”

I told her my dad’s address, we hung up the phone, and I swung into action. I told my dad that I was going to be in my room the rest of the night. I said it in a way that seemed both sulky and exhausted, so he would be clear on the fact that I really, really did not want to hang out with him tonight. Then I stomped around the house in my pajamas and brushed my teeth in the hallway to make sure that he saw me all ready for bed.

“Good night, Daddy,” I said. Then I shut my bedroom door. I turned on my music, and I got ready.

I put on the same outfit I’d been wearing the first night Char kissed me. It felt like good luck. Like maybe if he saw me looking just like I had then, he would remember just how he felt about me then.

The last thing I did, as part of my preparations, was check Fake Elise’s journal.

June 17: tonight is the night. i don’t want to do this anymore. i give up. goodbye. xoxo elise dembowski

In a way, Fake Elise knew what she was talking about. In a way, she always did. I was giving up. But sometimes you have to give up something you are to get to who you want to be.