lt’s getting harder to keep my nightmares a secret from Stacey. l know she suspects something’s up. l also know it’s causing a rift between us. Maybe l should tell her. But every time l want to, it’s like it’s never the right time. She’s beyond stressed, like l’ve never seen her before. Who knows? Maybe part of her stress is because of me. Maybe she can sense something about me and what l’m dreaming. But l know if she suspected anything bad, she’d come forward about it. Wouldn’t she?
Of course she would. l think the nightmares must be playing with my mind. They’re getting worse. Last night l thought l died right in my sleep. l woke up, clutching my skin, making sure l was still alive. There were scratches across my chest. l think l must have dreamt l was struggling to find my way above the surface of the water and scratched myself in the process.
l woke Chad up as well. He asked me what was wrong and l told him l had a dream about falling. l think he believed me because he didn’t ask more, but it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that l figure everything out.
Wednesday, August 25th
Stacey wants me to go on this frat-party cruise. But obviously l can’t. l can’t go out in the water. l’m almost surprised she hasn’t recognized that yet. She insists on going because Clara is going. l don’t know about Clara. There’s something l don’t like about her—though it doesn’t seem like anybody likes her.
l bought Stacey’s ticket for the cruise, but l know it doesn’t help. l know she wants my support. l don’t know what to do anymore. l hate all these secrets. But l’d hate it even more if Stacey ditched helping Clara because of me. lf something bad happened to Clara, Stacey would feel beyond guilty. l know she would.
Tonight, after everyone’s asleep, l’m going to sneak out and try some crystal magic out on the beach. lt’s easier to get away at night, plus l have the moon’s energy. l feel like it’s really obvious when l take off during the day, like today. l know Stacey was hurt when l just left like that at the Clam Stripper. lt’s just sometimes l need to do a spell when the sun is at its peak. l know it bothers Stacey. l know she notices. l hate keeping stuff from her.
Thursday, August 26th
l had a nightmare this afternoon and it totally freaked me out. lnstead of dreaming about my own death, l dreamt about Stacey’s, that she was going to die tomorrow. ln the dream, she was drowning instead of me. l was there, trying to help her out of the water. l think l may have even jumped in, but it’s like l couldn’t reach her, like she was just inches from my fingertips, slipping farther and farther away by the moment. l woke up in a panic, breathing hard, practically panting, l think.
When l woke up, there was a note stuck to the window from the outside. lt had my name written across it. l’m not sure what it means.
lf anything happened to Stacey l think l’d die as well. l need to be with her today, every day, no matter what.
lf anything happens to me, l want Stacey to have this journal.
Anonymous note to Jacob (stuck inside his journal)
JACOB,
IF YOU DON’T COME ON THE CRUISE, I PROMISE YOU, YOUR BELOVED STACEY WILL DIE.
More from session with Dr. Atwood
Dr. Atwood: You mentioned once before that you sensed that Clara was in danger.
SB: [nodding]
Dr. Atwood: Did you tell her about your premonitions?
SB: [nodding again]
Dr. Atwood: So let me get this straight——you were having premonitions about Clara; she thought they were fake, but, all along, she was truly in trouble.
SB: Yes.
Dr. Atwood: Quite a coincidence, don’t you think?
SB: I don’t believe in coincidence.
Dr. Atwood: What do you believe?
SB: [shrugging]
Dr. Atwood: You want to know what I believe?
SB: [more shrugging]
Dr. Atwood: I believe that maybe, unknowingly, you gave Clara the whole stalker idea. I think that maybe when she saw how concerned you were about her, she knew it would be a good way to play it up, pretend to be the victim of a stalking. It would be a good way to get close to you and cause problems.
SB: [shrugging again]
Dr. Atwood: I also believe you might be a little confused about things——about what you say you predicted, about what you believe you sensed. But that’s understandable; you’ve been through a lot.
SB: It doesn’t matter what you think.
[Long pause]
Dr. Atwood: A psychologist I spoke to at Morley seems to think that Clara was a “cutter.” Do you know what that is?
SB: [more nodding]
Dr. Atwood: The psychologist believes Clara’s stomach wound might have been accidental——that she’d been trying to cut herself and pressed too far. From what I understand, the wound was pretty extensive. If you hadn’t been there, she probably wouldn’t be around right now. How do you feel about that?
SB: [shrugging again]
Dr. Atwood: Did you know a photographer who was renting a cottage near yours?
SB: Where did you hear about him?
Dr. Atwood: I heard on the news that he was being questioned——something about taking pictures of young women on the beach.
SB: [more nodding]
Dr. Atwood: Clara also took pictures——of herself, correct?
SB: [nodding] Using the timer on her Polaroid.
Dr. Atwood: Interesting. I wonder if she wanted you to think that the photographer was the stalker.
SB: It doesn’t matter.
Dr. Atwood: Why not?
SB: [sighing] All that matters now is finding Jacob.
Dr. Atwood: And you believe he’ll be found?
SB: It’s fine if you don’t. It doesn’t matter what anybody else thinks.
Dr. Atwood: It’s been four weeks, Stacey.
SB: Without a body, they can’t declare someone dead at sea for seven years.
Dr. Atwood: So you plan to wait seven years?
Letter to the Admissions Department at Beacon University
September 1, 2004
Casey Devon
Director of Undergraduate Admissions
Beacon University 223 Tremont Street
Boston, MA 02116
Dear Mr. Devon:
My daughter, Stacey Brown, is currently enrolled to start as a freshman at your university in a couple weeks. Unfortunately, I’m going to have to ask that you defer her admission until the spring 2005 semester.
Stacey is dealing with the trauma of losing her boyfriend. I’m sure you’ve heard that Jacob LeBlanc has been missing for several days now. I know he’s enrolled to attend your university as well.
As I’m sure you can imagine, Stacey has not been herself lately. She, Jacob, and Stacey’s friend, Amber Foley, were all so excited when they all got into Beacon, but unfortunately, her admission will have to wait a few more months.
Thank you in advance for your patience and understanding. Please let me know if you have any questions.
Sincerely,
Maureen Brown
More from therapy session
Dr. Atwood: Tell me, Stacey, do you normally feel you can sense danger the way you did with Clara?
SB: Sometimes I dream about danger. I was dreaming about her death.
Dr. Atwood: Hmmm . . . Interesting.
SB: Why?
Dr. Atwood: Because you told me last time that Jacob was dreaming about death as well——about your death, his own death . . . and yet, according to you, nobody is dead.
SB: Just me.
Dr. Atwood: You feel like you’re dead, Stacey?
SB: Inside, I do.
[End tape]
Letter to Jacob
Dear Jacob,
My therapist told me that I should write to you. She said it would be an opportunity to say goodbye. But I’ll never say that. I miss you, Jacob. I can’t even tell you how much.
I’ve decided to stay here, at the cottage. Amber is staying with me, deferring her admission as well
. I just can’t leave you here. I mean, what if you came back and I’d already left? I’ll never leave you, Jacob.
I got your journal. Your mother gave it to me. She and your dad flew in from Colorado almost immediately. When your mother was cleaning your stuff from the cottage, she found it lying out on your bed. She saw the dedication—to Stacey, forever, with love—and gave it to me. I still haven’t been able to go into your room.
I read your entries from cover to cover. I wish you would have told me about your nightmares. I wish you would have asked me for help.
I wish a lot of things.
I go over and over in my mind everything that happened that night, everything I could have done differently. If only I had identified that stressful feeling I kept getting in my heart, nearly cutting off my breath. If only I had taken another route up to the main deck when I saw Clara’s note—maybe we wouldn’t have missed each other. If only I recognized the railing pin earlier—maybe I could have warned you.
If only.
I haven’t told anyone this, but sometimes I can still feel you. It’s like you’re somewhere out there, trying to get to me, sending me vibes that you’re still alive.
Sometimes when I’m asleep, I have to force myself to wake up because I can feel you inside me. I can feel my nerves pulsing beneath my skin, my blood boiling up, and my breath quickening. I roll over in bed, feeling your fingers kneading down my back, your breath on my neck, and your lips at my shoulder.
Just like that night.
I’ve been sitting out on the beach a lot, looking out at the ocean as it rolls up to meet me, hoping to see you walking up the beach, greeting me with a kiss, telling me how much you love me.
And me telling you how much I love you back. Sometimes I see the rescue team go out. They tell me it’s just a matter of time before they find it—your body. That’s what they’re calling you now. But maybe I don’t want them to find you. Maybe somewhere deep inside me I believe you aren’t in this sea—that by some miracle of miracles you got away, that you didn’t drown, that you got saved by some fishermen or floated away on some magical piece of driftwood.
I light a thick white candle, just like we did that night last November when we silently declared our love for one another. I place the candle beside me in the sand. The flame represents you. I know that if my grandmother were here she’d tell me that as long as I keep your memory alive, your spirit will be with me always.
I know in my heart that’s true.
Always and forever,
Stacey
Laurie Faria Stolarz, Silver Is for Secrets
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