“Hallelujah,” Marta cheered. As she launched into a story about a cute boy she’d met that afternoon, the parking lot began to fill up with people. Soon half their grade was piling out of the cars that kept pulling into the lot.
Emerson adjusted the chunky black sweaterdress she was wearing over tights, watching as Delancey and Abby pulled several tiki torches out of Abby’s car. Abby caught Emerson’s eye as she sauntered past with the torches. She gave her a sharp wave, gesturing for her to join them on the beach. Emerson sighed, pushing a strand of her carefully straightened black hair out of her face. “Guess we should see what the purity princesses want.”
She tried to go to her happy place as she followed Tenley and Marta to the beach. It was a calming technique Caitlin had taught her once, gleaned from her years of therapy. Her first day modeling in New York City: walking down Fifth Avenue as if she belonged there, each window showcasing an outfit more beautiful than the last. By the time she stopped in front of Abby and Delancey, she was breathing a little easier.
“I’m planning to give a speech about Tricia and Cait tonight,” Abby informed them. The gold promise ring she and Delancey both wore flashed in the moonlight. “Kind of like a Lost Girl tribute. Is there anything you want me to include? I know how close you all were with both of them.” Her voice was oozing sympathy, and immediately Emerson tensed back up. “I can imagine this day is especially hard for you,” Abby added.
Emerson clasped her hands together tightly. She wanted so badly to reach out and smack Abby right in her pale face. She was acting as if she knew them, as though she understood, but she knew nothing at all.
“It is,” Marta said, saving Emerson and Tenley from responding. Tears sprang to her eyes and she quickly reached up to swipe at them. “Which is why we really need to celebrate tonight. The way Tricia would have wanted it. Make this the party of the year!”
“Did I just hear ‘party of the year’?”
Emerson started at the sound of Hunter Bailey’s voice. Spinning around, she found herself facing their group of guy friends: Hunter, Tyler Cole, Sean Hale, and Nate Roberts.
“That’s exactly what you heard,” Tenley said, winking at Hunter. Tenley and Hunter weren’t dating, exactly, but they didn’t hide their flirtations, either.
“Good thing I’ve got a case of beer, then,” Hunter said. His chiseled features relaxed into a smirk.
Abby exchanged a disapproving look with Delancey before taking off to set up tiki torches along the beach. “For the record, I do not like our new student-body president,” Tenley said, watching the two of them go.
“Join the club,” Emerson replied. “And I don’t mean the purity one.” She took a can of beer from Hunter gratefully. She wasn’t in the mood to drink, but just holding it made this feel more like a party than an over-the-top memorial. Sean clearly felt the same way, because he immediately began chugging his down, his eyes glazing over as he watched the flame of a nearby tiki torch dance on the breeze. Emerson hurt for him. Tricia had been Sean’s girlfriend. The Ken to her Barbie, their friends used to joke. Like everyone else in town, he’d never known what a monster she was. Emerson reached out and squeezed his shoulder. She wished there were something she could say, but sometimes there just weren’t any words.
“Purity Club, student-body president, and running the homecoming committee,” Marta said, shaking her head. “That girl must never sleep.”
Emerson glanced over at where Abby was carefully straightening a tiki torch, Delancey at her side. “At least she can’t vote for everyone. Not that I want to be queen anyway,” she added, rolling her eyes at Marta.
“I know, I know,” Marta groaned. “You’re soooo over high school.”
Emerson laughed. It had been her mantra before everything happened with Caitlin. She was done with high school classes and high school drama and, most especially, high school boys.
“Abby will find some way to fix the contest,” Tyler said. His amber skin and glossy black hair seemed to glow under the light of the torches. Tyler was Vietnamese—he’d been adopted by the Cole family as a baby—and Emerson was always admiring his shiny, never unruly hair, which he wore long for a guy. “Or so Jessie says,” he added.
“Where is Jessie?” Emerson asked carefully. Jessie Morrow, the captain of the cheerleading squad that Emerson—and, at one point, Caitlin—cheered on, had started dating Tyler recently, which meant she was suddenly around Emerson and her friends all the time.
“Her parents locked her in to study.” Tyler made a face. “Lame.”
Relief rushed through her. At the beginning of the school year, Emerson had done something she wanted desperately to forget. Mistaking the dare Caitlin had received from Tricia as some kind of best-friend-abduction ploy by Tenley, she sent Tenley a fake dare, challenging her to slip an antianxiety pill into Jessie’s water bottle before a pep rally. She never thought Tenley would actually do it, just that she’d learn her lesson and stop trying to steal Emerson’s best friend. But, believing the dare was from the real darer—the one sending her mysterious threats—Tenley went through with it. Neither of them could ever have known that it would trigger the seizures Jessie used to have, that it would make her fall from the very top of the cheerleaders’ pyramid.
Jessie had healed completely since her fall; it was almost as if the whole terrible accident hadn’t happened. But Emerson still felt uneasy around her. “Too bad she can’t come,” she managed to croak out.
“Since she’s missing the party of the year,” Marta said, holding her beer up in the air, “I say we toast!” she declared.
“To senior year!” Hunter offered.
“To beach parties every single Monday!” Nate chimed in, making a goofy face.
“To Caitlin,” Emerson said softly.
“And”—Tenley added, coughing lightly—“Tricia.”
“To Tricia,” Sean repeated. His grip tightened on his half-empty can, making it collapse in on itself.
“To the Lost Girls,” Nate added as they all clinked beers.
Emerson could feel herself relaxing a little as Hunter rallied everyone to play “would you rather,” his favorite drinking game.
“I’ll go first,” Tenley declared. “Would you rather make out with Miss Hilbrook or… Mr. Dickson?” Miss Hilbrook was Winslow’s token hot teacher, while Mr. Dickson was the creepy gym teacher who’d been around for about a hundred years.
“Hilbrook,” all the guys yelled. Emerson looked over at Marta. But before either of them could answer, an unfamiliar voice cut in.
“I surmise you’re playing more games?”
Emerson looked over to see Calum Bauer walking toward them. At first glance, he was almost cute, with broad shoulders and a lopsided grin. But when she looked closer, he was unmistakably Calum, his wild white-blond curls swaying like a treetop in the breeze, and his skin paler than ever in the dim light of the tiki torches.
“Abby really did invite everyone,” Marta muttered.
“Let me guess.” Calum pretended to stroke a nonexistent beard. “Truth or dare? I remember it was quite the salacious game the last time we played.”
Emerson glared at Calum. That game was the last thing she wanted to think about right now. It was what had started everything, what had changed everything. “We’re not really into that anymore,” she said coolly.
“Too bad,” he said, eyeing Emerson thoughtfully. “Your dare was to Tenley’s party as ice cream is to my stomach.”
“Someone stop him!” Nate made a show of covering his ears with his hands. “There’s no SAT prep allowed at parties.”
“Though he does have a point.” Tenley put her hands on her hips and glowered up at Emerson. “It was your dare.”
Emerson smiled sheepishly. When they’d played truth or dare at Tenley’s housewarming party, she’d dared Tenley to kiss Calum. She was so intimidated by Tenley that night, afraid she was going to swoop in and steal Caitlin away from her. She’d just wanted a dare that would embarrass her. But Tenley, being Tenley, made it seem like no big deal. And then soon after, they’d both lost Caitlin anyway. Emerson swallowed hard, shoving the memory to the back of her mind. “Sorry,” she said with a shrug. “He seemed like your type at the time.”
“First impressions usually are accurate,” Calum offered.
A few feet away, Abby lifted onto her toes, waving frantically at Calum. “Looks like duty calls,” he sighed. “Abby has apparently confused ‘class treasurer’ with ‘personal assistant.’ But if any of you are in the mood to play some more later, you know where to find me.” He fluttered his eye in what might have been a wink before jogging over to Abby.
“Such potential squandered,” Marta said as she watched him go. “With a dad that rich, it’s a mystery how he became such a loser.”
Abby blew loudly on a whistle, drowning out Hunter’s response. “Time to commemorate Tricia and Caitlin!” she announced.