“Oh, wait, was that the story? Or…”
“Old news.” Ethan shook his head, but his eyes were roaming the lawn like he was looking for something. Someone.
Which made Billy remember his dream. The whole point of the night. “Hey,” Billy said, leaning toward Ethan. “You think I can get Erica back?”
“Seriously?”
“I mean, why not? Final summer. Feel like she might still want to—”
“I don’t think so.”
“Aw, come on.” Billy was wounded. Ethan always had the best advice when it came to Erica. That’s when being in such a boring relationship came in handy. But tonight Ethan seemed distracted. Billy should go talk to Erica by himself.
He looked over to the firepit where he had seen her last, laughing in that adorable bathing suit, her hair tied up off her face but coming loose thanks to the mist from the Sound. She looked like she did when Billy brought her on his family’s boat, theSea Witch. When they went snorkeling and fishing, then lazed on the sun deck for hours.
Billy swung his whole body around as he looked across the lawn, but he couldn’t find her. “You see Erica anywhere?” Billy asked. He drained the contents of his cup. “Did she leave?”
“Come on, man. Forget about her.” Ethan shook his head. “Let’s hang with the boys.” He pointed toward the keg where Dylan was currently being held upside down with the spout in his mouth.
Billy’s face looped into a smile. Ethan was right. Tonight could also be about the boys. “Dog out?” he asked.
Ethan tilted his head up and opened his mouth, letting out a loud and blunt “Woof, woof!”
From his place at the keg, Dylan landed back on his feet and stood at attention, hearing the call. “Arf, arf!” he barked across the lawn.
“My boys!” Billy yelled, his voice echoing in the night. That’s what it was all about, he decided. His buds. His guys. They wouldn’t have these moments come September, and if he could spend another night howling at the moon with his bros, he would do just that.
Frankie
“Hot, hot, hot!” I spit out a bite of chicken finger into the red plastic basket between us as Alex starts laughing so hard, I worry Diet Coke’s going to shoot out of his nose.
“That’s what you get for not being patient,” he says, blowing on his French fries.
“If you wait too long, they taste like garbage. Everyone knows that.” I lean back and cross my arms over my chest, tapping my foot up and down. Alex and I are sitting outside Hot Diggity after work, our first shift back since they found Billy. The whole day had been weird and creepy, like everyone who came through the Club gates was looking over their shoulder, waiting for a masked man with a knife to burst out from behind a sand dune.
All anyone can talk about is how the police think that Billy’s death wasn’t an accident. Millie said as much when she got home from the police station the day she found him, and Mom made us turn on location sharing yesterday, started locking the doors and insisting we use the alarm system, even though I’d never seen her turn it on.
But it’s hard to imagine that something actually bad could happen here on Pelican Island, where the police are basically glorified traffic cops and the lastrealcrime was insider trading, though I’mpretty sure the Vreelands only paid a fine for that one. Everyone’s imaginations are running wild because it’s easier to think Billy was killed by someone else rather than admit he was an idiot and made some stupid mistake in the same water we’ve all spent our entire lives enjoying.
“What do you want to do for the rest of the day?” Alex asks, crumpling his garbage into a ball.
“I dunno.” I lean my elbows on the picnic table, my gaze settling on the building across the street. It’s a little white-brick structure with wide windows and flower pots outside. The only way you’d know it was the police department was the massive shield on the sign out front, the few cop cars parked around the corner. “We could take your kayak out?”
Alex shakes his head. “Nah, I think I’d rather do pool time.”
“Fine by me.” We stand and head for the bike rack, but I don’t look where I’m going and walk right into something tall and hard, slamming to a stop. “Owww,” I whine, gripping my shoulder. “What…”
“Watch where you’re going.” I jerk my head back and realize I’ve walked right into Justin Vreeland as he exited Hot Diggity. He’s staring at me with his mouth pinched and a baseball cap casting a shadow over half his face. Even though he’s wearing navy shorts with whales embroidered on them, which is definitely the least threatening item of clothing on the planet, a nervous hum begins in my stomach. I take a step back, bumping into Alex.
“Sorry,” I mumble.
“You should be.” Justin scowls at me, then hurries across the street.
“God, he’s creepy,” I say.
Alex winces. “I can’t believe his family owns this place.” He throws his thumb back at the hot dog stand.
“Oh, please. It’s probably a tax front.”
