He finally focuses on me. “Yeah. I remember. You picked up my crutches for me. What’s your name again?”

I can’t wait to tell him. I smile my prettiest smile. “My name is Big Easy.”

I have his attention now. He’s frozen; his eyes are wide and alarmed. I show him the pocketknife, slide out the blade. “Look,” I tell him. “You kept it.” And then I try to kiss him again. I have to grab him by the back of his neck to bring our faces close together. But I can only get our lips to touch for the briefest of seconds before he’s pushing away from me, panicked.

I glance over my shoulder and watch the bleachers where Lillia sits. Alex has appeared next to her and he whispers something into her ear. As he does, everyone in the stands drifts far, far away into the background, as if they are on a conveyor belt. Reeve sees this too, and he looks distressed.

“Please, Alex!” he screams, and reaches out for Lillia. “Don’t tell her what I did!”

But they are gone. Finally he looks back at me. Reeve starts rubbing his eyes, as if he’s about to wake up. “You need to stay a secret,” he tells me.

I’m his secret. His shameful, terrible secret.

I scream, “You think you deserve to be happy, after taking my life? You honestly think you deserve that?” And my voice is so loud, it drowns out any other sounds.

Reeve looks stricken. “I didn’t know you were going to—”

Pointing at him with the blade, I scream, “You didn’t leave me any choice! You knew that I loved you, and you treated me like garbage!” I scream it so loud, the back of my throat burns like fire. Any decent human being wouldn’t do that. It’s crueler than cruel. It’s heartless.

I turn my head slightly, and there are Reeve’s teammates, rushing toward him with one of the big water coolers hoisted high in their arms. Reeve tries to back up away from them, and from me, but it happens too fast. They tip the cooler on top of us, and we’re both splashed with ice-cold water.

Except something shifts. We don’t get wet just from the water inside the cooler. It’s an impossible amount, an ocean’s worth. And the knife slips out of my hands.

Suddenly the water turns dark, dark blue, like midnight. We’re in the water around Jar Island.

He’s underwater with me, limbs flailing, mouth open in a silent scream. He tries to kick and swim up to the surface, where Lillia is peering down on us from the dock. But I’m not letting him. I grab hold of his arm, and I start swimming toward the blackness, toward the bottom of the ocean, tugging him down with me. Bubbles of air pour out of his mouth as he struggles to break free from me, but I’m not letting go. I’m Big Easy, fat and heavy like an anchor, sinking him farther and farther and farther away from the surface.

I open one eye and watch as Reeve thrashes around in the bed. It looks like he’s having a seizure, just like he did at homecoming. He saw me that night. He whispered “Big Easy.” He was afraid of me then, too. That the secret of me would come out. That everyone would know the truth, what a terrible, horrible person he is. Every muscle is taut as he writhes around, gasping for air. And his face—I swear he’s turning blue.

I don’t know why, but I pull my hand off his forehead. Reeve’s eyes immediately fly open and he sucks in a huge breath of air. He’s coughing and gagging, his eyes darting around the room. He clicks on his side lamp, sits on the edge of his bed, and tries to catch his breath. He’s panting. He pitches forward and sinks his head between his knees. “You’re dreaming,” he pants. “It’s only a dream.”

He lies back down and, after a bit, falls back asleep. I curl myself next to him and listen to him breathe.

Chapter Twenty-Five

KAT

AFTER CHUGGING THE LAST DROPS of orange soda in my can, I rewind the track about twenty seconds and click the playback button. The final strum comes on nice and loud—the very last note of Alex’s third song—and I slide up the treble just a bit on the mixer, so you can really hear the dirty vibration of him pounding that guitar string. It’s raw and messy, just like his lyrics.

We’ve each got one of my earbuds in, and we’re both peering at his laptop screen, watching the levels bounce up and down and then turn, abruptly, into a flat line when the track ends.

Alex turns his head to me and whispers with a half smile, “Are we good?”

I hit save and pull out my side of the earbuds. “We are so good.” I hold up my hand, and Alex high-fives me with a big grin on his face.

“You’re freaking awesome, Kat.”

“Tell me about it,” I deadpan.

Alex asked me to mix his audition tape, even though I told him that I didn’t know shit about music production. I mean, I sat in on plenty of bands screwing around at Paul’s Boutique with recording equipment, back when I used to hang with Kim. She and I would add hand claps or screams or whatever was needed to the tracks, but none of the guys ever let either of us near the mixing board to tweak the sound.

But Alex insisted. So I told him what software to buy for his laptop and picked him out a pimp microphone that cost more than a year’s worth of ferry tickets, and a new guitar pedal that we had to special-order from Europe.

He didn’t hesitate.

I’m glad he’s looking ahead and not moping around over Lillia and Reeve. He’s been texting me like crazy with lyric tweaks and chord changes, and he’s reworked all three of his songs according to my feedback. Everybody knows that the best music comes from bloodshed. Not one of those original Lillia love songs made the cut. It’s probably a good thing. He’s moving on.

“Well, that’s a wrap,” I say. “And now you can join me in the hell of waiting for an acceptance letter.” I’m about to shut his laptop screen, but Alex stops me.

“I’m going to upload them to the USC server right now.” Soberly he adds, “Hopefully they take me, because I can’t wait to get out of here. I don’t really see myself coming back after graduation.”

I let out a little snicker. “You sound like me. Anyway, what are you talking about? You’re coming back. Your parents live here.”

“For now they do. But my dad’s always talking about what a hassle it is to commute from the island to work. And, I mean, my mom loves California. She’s already talking about maybe getting a place in Santa Barbara while I’m at school.”

Okay, that I do believe. Alex’s mom is freaking obsessed with him. “What if you don’t get in?” I hate to say it, but I have to, because nothing is a guarantee. Shit, I can barely sleep at night, thinking about Oberlin. “Would they move to Boston?”

Alex isn’t hearing me. He keeps his eyes on the computer screen. “I’m not going to Boston. If I don’t get into USC, then I’ll go to Michigan. I want to be as far away as possible.”

I get it. He might not be singing about Lillia, but Alex is still hurting. But he’s being a bit dramatic with this whole I’m-running-away shtick. I ignore it and grab my bag. “All righty, dude. I better bounce. I was supposed to be at Lillia’s house hours ago.”

“Have fun,” he says sarcastically.

I should just go, but I can’t help it. “Dude, don’t be like that.”

“Be like what?”

“Look,” I say. “I know you probably feel like a dummy for sending those flowers on Valentine’s Day, but I still think it was a good move.”

Alex laughs dryly. “Yeah. I’m glad to know that I wasted my whole high school experience on people who don’t give a shit about me.”

I dig out my keys. I know Lil is trying to wait for the right time to talk to Alex, when he’s cooled down some. Unfortunately, he’s still white-hot. So instead I ask, “Has Reeve apologized?”

He gives me a look like I’m crazy. “Reeve doesn’t say ‘sorry.’ It’s not in his vocabulary.”

“Right.” That I can believe.

*  *  *

I’m at Lillia’s house, and there’s a movie on their big-ass TV, but we’re not really watching it. Lillia goes into the kitchen and comes back with chips and salsa and hummus. “I got your favorite kind of hummus,” she sings out.

“Thanks, Lil,” I say, and I grab a handful of chips.

Nadia comes wandering into the living room in leggings and a cheering hoodie. She sees me lying on the couch but doesn’t say anything. “What up, Nadi,” I say.

Nadia doesn’t answer me. She glares at Lil and snarks, “I didn’t know you were having friends over. I was going to invite people over.”

“Go ahead. We can hang up in my room.”

“Just forget it.”

“Easy, little girl,” I say. “That’s your big sister you’re talking to.”

Nadia rolls her eyes. If this were at school and not, say, Lillia’s living room, I’d knock Nadia on her ass. But I’m a guest here, so I just help myself to another delicious chip.

Turning to Lil, she asks, “Are there any tortilla chips left?”

Lillia shakes her head. “No, but there are pita chips.”

Nadia makes a huffy sound. Eyeing our Oranginas, she says, “Did you drink all the Orangina too?”

“I hope so,” I say, taking a big swig. I can’t help myself.

Lillia elbows me. “I think there’s one left.”

Nadia shuffles into the kitchen, and I hear her rustling around in the fridge. “I don’t see it!”

“Look behind the deli meats,” Lillia calls back. Nadia doesn’t answer. “Did you find it?”

“No.” Nadia comes back into the living room with a Diet Coke and a bag of pita chips. She snatches the hummus and stalks up to her room.

I’m glad I don’t have a little sister. Pat can be a pain in the ass, but damn. As soon as she’s gone, I say, “Yo, why’s Nadia being such a bitch baby?”

“Sorry about that. It’s not you. It’s me.”

“You gotta get her in line,” I say, shaking my head. “Whup some ass if need be.”

“She’s still mad about the whole Reeve thing. She thinks it’s a betrayal of Rennie.” Quickly Lillia adds, “Which I know it is. Trust me, I know.”

I want to say that it’s a betrayal of Mary, too, but I keep that thought to myself because I’m here to make her feel better, not worse.

“So how is Alex? How are his songs? When will he hear something back from USC?”

“Um, which one of those do you want me to answer first?”

“Sorry. It’s just been a while since we’ve talked.”

“I know you’re trying to give him time, Lil, but I’m starting to think that time ain’t doing you any favors.”

“Ugh.” Lillia chews on her bottom lip. “Do you think I’m crazy for going through all this just to be with Reeve?”

“Look, I’m not saying I understand it.” I shudder, because God, Reeve can be such a dick. “But it’s your bag. I’m not gonna judge you for it.”

Lillia presses her foot up against mine and looks at me with big, grateful eyes. “I promise you, Kat, he’s not what you think he is.”

I snort. “How so?”

Her face goes all dreamy and soft, which makes me regret asking. Tipping her head back against the couch, she says, “He looks at me like I’m the only girl in the world.”

I roll my eyes. “Eww. Forget I asked.”

“Kat! Just listen for a minute. Please? I never get to talk about him like this.”

“Fine, I’ll listen. For a minute.”

Lillia looks around, then leans in close to me and whispers, “He’s an amazing kisser.”

I pick at my cuticles. “How far have you guys gone, anyway?”

She covers her mouth and giggles like crazy.

“I’ve heard the boy has skills,” I say.

Lil’s cheeks go pink. “We haven’t had sex or anything.” Then she whispers, “But . . . I think I maybe want to.”

I let out a whoop. “You hussy!”

Lillia swats at me, but I block her hand with a pillow. Then, suddenly, her face gets serious. “You’ve had sex with a lot of guys, right?”

I cut my eyes at her. “A few! Not a lot.”

“Right, sorry, sorry,” she says. She ducks her head, and her hair falls across her face. Worriedly she asks, “Do you think that Reeve minds? I mean, that we haven’t done it yet?”

“Nah. It’s like you said, the boy’s crazy about you. Any idiot can see that. He might get blue balls, but whatever, he can just jack off, no big deal.” Lillia makes a face at me. “What? I’m just being honest. There’s no rush, Lil.”

“I just wish Reeve was my first time and not that other guy.”

I grab her foot. Hard, because this shit is serious. I ain’t playing. “That other guy doesn’t count. You never said yes to that other guy, so he doesn’t count. Your first time is whoever you say it is. You got me?”

She nods.

The front door opens, and Lillia’s mom steps inside, wearing an ivory coat with a funnel neck, and studded black leather gloves. She looks like Jackie O but with some edge. She drops her black bag onto the entranceway table and slips out of her heels. “Girls, sorry I’m so late!” she calls out.

I stand up. “Hi, Mrs. Cho.”

“Kat!” Lillia’s mom rushes over to me without even taking her coat off. She puts her gloved hands on my cheeks and says, “My God, look how grown-up you are! I haven’t seen you in so long, honey.” She sweeps me into her arms for a long hug, and I lean into it. She still wears the same perfume, which is weirdly comforting.