He shrugs, the sun hitting his eyes just right so that they actually twinkle like stars in a night sky. “Just something.”
I look at Nolan, climbing the hill to the cottage. This time, Emily doesn’t follow. She doesn’t want to go where he’s going,because his last words—Everyone would be having a far better time if you weren’t here—cut deep. She throws a look back over her shoulder and toward the pool, wondering if she should go back and be with Aunt Courtney and Uncle Elliott. But she doesn’t want to do that either, because they’re happy and having fun and their energy doesn’t match. She doesn’t want to bring everyone down. In the end, she turns and climbs the hill for the cottage, following Nolan at a distance, her arms still crossed, her head down and looking at her feet. I almost feel sorry for her. Except that Nolan isn’t wrong. Everyone would be having a better time if she weren’t here, telling everyone what to do.
“I don’t know if they’ll let me leave,” I say, though I think that if I have to spend the entire night in the cottage with them either fighting or giving each other the silent treatment, I might actually kill myself.
He’s grinning out of the side of his mouth. “Do they have to know? Do you tell them everything?”
My stomach flips. Butterflies dance inside of it.
“No. Not everything.” I smile back, a gust of wind sweeping in from behind, blowing my hair forward and into my face. I clutch a fistful of it by my neck, waiting for the breeze to pass. I glance again at Emily and Nolan in the distance and say, “Let me see if I can sneak out after they’re asleep.”
“Okay. If you can, meet me by the beach, on the pier. If you can’t—” he starts to say, but I cut him off, my words free from doubt this time.
“I’ll be there. Wait for me.”
Courtney
Wyatt’s words bring me to a sudden stop in the living room, which is dark save for the glow from his phone screen, the blue light brightening his face but, at the same time, casting shadows on it that make it impossible to read.
I know where Reese is.
“Where?” I ask, breathless. I step closer to him, wanting to see what he’s looking at on his phone. I reach the sofa bed and lower myself to it as Wyatt turns his phone slowly around and shows me. On his screen is a map with a cute little avatar of Reese in a tiny pink tee and cutoff denim shorts that looks almost exactly like her.
“What is this, Wyatt?” I ask, reaching for the phone, bringing it closer so that I can see it better. He has cell reception, one piddling bar that might disappear at any time, though reception tends to be better at night, when fewer people are awake and fighting for it.
“Snapchat,” he says, his face dark now that the phone’s light isn’t shining directly on him.
I don’t use Snapchat. I’m not familiar with how it works. “What is this map?” I ask, fixating on the bright smile on the likeness of Reese’s face, on the tiny details that are just right, down to the double piercings in her ears and the shape and spacing of her eyes.
“Snap Map.”
“How does it work?” I ask, and he explains. It’s a location sharing feature. It allows friends to see where friends are in real time, by putting these avatars of them on a map.
My stomach tightens. “You mean, anyone can see where you are all the time?” I ask. The idea of it makes me feel sick. I think of all the ways that could go wrong, how the wrong people could find you, like old boyfriends, people you don’t get along with, friends you’re in an argument with or boys who like you but you don’t like back.
He shrugs. “Yeah. If you want them to.”
“What does that mean, Wyatt?” I ask, looking at him.
“You can put it in ghost mode.”
“What’s ghost mode?”
“Where no one knows where you are.”
I nod, understanding. You don’t have to let your avatar be on this map. You don’t have to let people know where you are. You can opt out of it if you want, but kids don’t think like that. They aren’t cautious like adults. They don’t consider all the bad things that can happen, only how they can find friends at parties and show up at places where their crush is, things like that.
I zoom in on this Snap Map, bringing Reese closer so that not only can I see her exact location, but I can see how long it would take me to get to her.
Five minutes.
Reese is only five minutes away.
I push myself from the sofa bed, taking Wyatt’s phone into the bedroom with me, my heart racing as I feel the bedside table for my own phone, relieved to see that I, too, have a single bar before searching for the number I stored in my contacts earlier today.
Detective Evans’s voice is woolly when he answers.
“Detective Evans,” I say, trying to keep my voice low for the girls, who still sleep. “It’s Courtney Gray.”
