The last time I was here was at the shiva with nearly everyone else I know. Because down French Moor Drive is Billy Godwin’s house.
Frankie blows a stray curl out of her face, her head cocked in frustration. “Come on. It’s been enough time.”
“We know where she’s going.”
“We have to at leastsee,” Frankie hisses.
“She’s probably visiting Olivia. Or saying hi to Mrs.Godwin.”
Frankie takes off before I can stop her, and I have nothing to do but follow her down the street. A canopy of trees darkens the road, and for a moment, I get sweet relief. It’s cooler over here in the shade, and I don’t have to squint to see against the sun. Goose pimples rise on my skin, and my sweat turns cold. I grip my handlebars tighter and glance at Frankie, who has a determined look on her face, her gaze straight ahead.
We stick to the other side of the road, hugging the shoulder, and when we get to the Godwin house, I duck behind an enormous maple tree, hoping it conceals my bike, but…Shoot. I should have remembered.
“We can’t see anything.” I groan and point to the hedges blocking the entire Godwin home, which sits nearly a quarter mile back from the road behind not only manicured rows of greenery but also an iron gate.
“Dammit,” Frankie says. “Ah, well. That was fun, I guess.”
“You are delusional.” I shake my head. “Come on. Let’s go back to town.”
Frankie looks longingly at the Godwin estate but follows me, pedaling slowly as she gripes behind me. “We should have stayed!”
“Can it, Frankie.” I look back at her and roll my eyes, but as I do, her voice rings out.
“Millie, look out!”
I brake fast, swerving onto the side of the road just in time for a black SUV to come careening past us.
“Oh my god,” I say, placing my hand over my heart. “Don’t they know there’s a speed limit?”
Frankie’s right behind me, panting and gripping the handlebars of her bike, but she’s still looking at the car turning into the driveway up ahead.
“Isn’t that…” she says, her voice trailing.
“What?” I ask, checking my body for any cuts or scrapes. My adrenaline is still through the roof, and I smooth down my hair, hoping to catch my breath.
“It totally is. Come on.” Frankie hops back on her bike and pedals so fast that I have to rush to keep up.
“You’re going to get us killed!” I call after her, but when I catch up to her at the next driveway, I see what she’s looking at. A brass nameplate tacked to the brick pillars on either side of the driveway, the nameVreelandstenciled into the metal.
“So it’s the Vreelands’ house. Big whoop. Let’s go. I want to sit in the pool for the next six hours straight.”
“Look,” she says, pointing toward the house. The black SUV that almost ran me over is parked at the end of the circular driveway, and we watch for a moment as Justin’s parents climb out, adjusting their clothing, their sunglasses.
“Again. I do not understand why we’re waiting like a bunch of creeps—”
But that’s when I see it.
Rather,him.
Justin Vreeland stepping out from the back seat of the car, stretching his arms overhead, an enormous smile on his face like he’s…free.
The Party
2:00 a.m.
“Billy!” Erica’s voice cut through the night, and Billy lifted his head to see her run toward him from the dunes. She was barefoot, still in that bikini, but her hair was wet and when she knelt down beside him, he realized her skin was, too. She smelled salty, like the sea. “Are you okay?”
Billy pushed himself to sit and swung his head around to see that Ethan and Dylan were holding Justin back.
