And no matter how much Echo might want for things to be different, there are some things she just can't change. They don't know what it's like to live under the shadow of a sister like Zoë. They don't know what it is to live with a vacant mom and an absentee dad and to have the whole town point and whisper whenever she goes by. They'll never know the pain of hearing the exact same people who left angels and cards for her sister's memorial, gossiping behind her back, slandering her character and acting like she somehow deserved it.
But she does know what it's like to live like that. And that's why she'll never be able to blend.
So she needs to find a place where she doesn't always feel so strange and obtrusive. She needs to be with someone who's a lot more like her.
She's the only one in her school, the only one in that whole entire town—outside of the cops and her parents—who knows all of the
facts and details about her sister's death. And sometimes she wishes she didn't, but she does, and there's nothing she can do about it. She's also well aware of what all these small-minded idiots are saying, and how ninety-nine percent of it's lies.
But the worst part is knowing that half the people responsible for those lies used
to be Zoë's friends.
She knows that may sound awful, the truth is that no matter how sorry everyone may have been, there wasn't a single person on the planet who could ever understand how she felt about Zoë. How much she missed her.
And the huge gaping hole she'd left in her heart.
Zoë was just trying to protect Echo, in the way that she failed to protect herself. She was always telling her to lookout, to not be so trusting, to run away if her instincts suggested it, to act in a way that she didn't.
Echo is wondering if there might be another way to save Zoë and she also thinks she finally gets how her trying to be like Zoë—and Marc, Zoë's boy friend and she trying to be together—was just one more failed attempt to save her. And the truth is, Zoë is dead.
Reading Zoë's diary, after her death, has left Echo on shaky emotional ground, and she feels like she's living on a fault line, where her
moods rise and fall with every slight shift, while the world she'd once known quakes precariously around her.
What happened to Zoë isn't her fault. The only thing she's guilty of is having a dream. And Echo thinks they owe it to her to believe that.