Get this, I'm supposed to be starting a journal about my journey. Please. I can see it now: Dear Diary, As I'm set adrift on this crazy sea called life . . . I don't think so. It's been seventy-five days. Amy's sick of her parents suddenly taking an interest in her. And she's really sick of people asking her about Julia. Julia's gone now, and she doesn't want to talk about it. They wouldn't get it, anyway. They wouldn't understand...