Page 33

WHEN EMMA EMERGES onto the quad, the spring breeze cools her burning cheeks. Hundreds of thousands of people—more, even—have heard her message. They think she’s brave. They think she’s heroic. They think she’s doing the right thing.

It’s what she wanted.

So why doesn’t it feel good?

The Boston Globe article, says the small, bitter voice Emma knows so well. That know-it-all reporter.

She barely said two words to Rachel Daley, and then Rachel turned it into an article questioning Emma’s sanity and motives.

A troubled young girl, a teen grappling with deep-seated depression.

Emma stomps across the grass. Maybe Rachel should lose a few of her precious “touchy” sisters and see how she feels.

Maybe she would find out what happens when the only two people who ever tried to take care of her vanish from the face of the earth forever.

Maybe if Rachel could feel what it is like to truly be alone, then she’d understand.

Suddenly Emma stops in the middle of the green expanse. Her skin feels electric. A shiver runs up her spine.

They’re all watching me, even now.

Ridgemont students looking out of windows. Professors leaning in classroom doorways. The campus police trailing at a safe, respectable distance.

It’s like she’s onstage. She’s the star of a one-woman show called Will She Do It? And no one knows if it’s a comedy or a tragedy until she strikes a flame.