“You good to get home on your own?” I ask Erica at the front door as she gets onto her bike. “I can give you a ride.”
“I’m okay,” she says. “Promise.”
I glance up at the sky. The sunset behind her is a mix of pinks and blues, all cotton-candy colors that meld together to create something totally new and spectacular. On any other day, I’d suggest we go down to the Club and watch it to completion with ice cream cones in hand. But today is not a normal today. Today is the day Pelican Island has been thrown into chaos.
“Text me when you get there.” I lean against the doorframe as Erica nods and puts on her helmet. “Are you sure you’re okay?” I ask. “You know you can tell me anything.”
Erica lets out a low and shaky breath. Her skin is sallow and the hollows beneath her eyes are dark. We’ve been together for hours, but she’s barely said a word, ducking out to use the bathroom more than usual, not really watching theGossip Girlepisodes I put on, even though it’s her favorite.
“I know,” she says. “It’s all so overwhelming.”
“I love you, Er,” I say, pulling her in for a hug. She’s limp under my touch, and part of me wants her to stay. There’s clearly so muchgoing on beneath the surface. But part of being in a family of girls is knowing when to stop pushing, when to let someone come to you, so I let her go and watch her ride off on her bike.
“Text me!” I call after her, and she puts up one hand without turning back.
Inside the house is quiet, save for Mom yammering on the phone. She’s been toggling back and forth between calls with Sally Godwin and Paula Silver, and even had a call with Deirdre Vreeland.
“Weneverthought Justin did it,” she whispered, giving me a death stare when I rolled my eyes at her.
All I want to do is flop down on the living room couch, get Millie on one side, Frankie on the other, and press play on the next episode ofGossip Girl, but there’s a bubbling in my stomach, anticipation building, because even before we heard the news about Justin, I knew what I had to do today, and I’m afraid if I don’t do it, I’m going to chicken out.
It’s only been three days since the Fourth of July parade when I learned Ethan lied to Billy about when he and I first kissed. Three days of avoiding Ethan, telling him I had the stomach bug, sneaking off to work early so he wouldn’t see my car leave the driveway. Three days of fending off offers for him to bring me Popsicles or lemonade or just sit with me and rub my back.
But enough time has passed that I finally know what I want to do. What I want to say. Up in my room, I look at myself in the mirror and apply my usual mascara, dab blush on my cheeks. My curls have gotten wild over the past few weeks, and I can’t remember the last time I did a deep conditioning treatment, which I used to perform every other wash like clockwork. The corners of my mouthdip into a frown, and for a moment it feels like a fissure has appeared in my chest with the intent of splitting it in two.
I hold my breath and send a text to Ethan.Bonfire? The beach is about as far as my parents will let us go right now.
Yes, he writes.See you in two.
I step into the hallway at the same time Millie does, and when she sees me, it looks like she’s hit with a wave of relief.
“You okay?” I ask.
“Can we hang for a while?” she asks, her voice small. I know that tone, the one that says,Don’t leave me. We don’t have much time.But if I don’t do this now, I don’t know when I’ll get my nerve back.
“Later, okay? I’m just meeting Ethan for a bit.”
Millie grips the stair railing like she’s trying not to fall over.
“Okay?” I say again.
“Okay.”
I give her a quick hug and peck her on the cheek. “I’ll be back soon.”
Skipping down the stairs, I feel her eyes on me, but I don’t turn around for fear of staying put. Outside, the temperature has dipped, and I’m hit with a waft of seaweed and ocean so salty, it almost makes me stop. A wet towel is draped over one of the pool loungers, likely from Frankie forgetting to put her stuff away. But I don’t have time to clean up her mess now. I rush forward, to the grass, the blades damp, tickling my ankles, and by the time I reach the sand, a wave of nerves has begun to swell in my stomach.
“There you are!” Ethan says. I’m ambushed in a hug so tight, I’m nearly knocked off my feet. The usual comfort I feel with him is gone, replaced by nerves, and that’s when I realize that nothingabout this night is normal. “You haven’t returned any of my calls or texts or anything. I was starting to freak out.”
“Sorry,” I say. “Been a little crazed.”
“Seriously.” Ethan shakes his head, and I can smell his soap, the scent of fresh laundry, of his home, so familiar to me it’s almost like my own. “Here.” He leads me over to the fire pit where he’s already lit the kindling and set up a few blankets.
“Great.” My voice is raw, and I hope he doesn’t notice the tension in my jaw, the fear in my eyes. As we settle down onto the sand, he rests one hand on my hip and smiles, leaning forward, closing his eyes. His lips are pursed, wanting. But I don’t meet them, and he stops midair, confused.
“Everything all right?”
I try to remember my words, the monologue I practiced. But when I look at him, my mind goes blank, and all I say is this: “I know about Olivia.”
