Rennie and I were by the grill sipping our drinks and surveying the scene when Mrs. Lind came up to me and gave me a big hug.

“Lillia, this was such a good idea,” she said, kissing me on the cheek. She was wearing a Hawaiian muumuu, and she had a flower in her hair. “Alex was so surprised!”

She went off to bring out more seafood kebobs, and Rennie elbowed me. “See? I told you it would be fine. What were you so worried about?”

“I wasn’t worried,” I said, adjusting my lifeguard float. “I just think it’s a little weird to ask someone’s mom if you can have a party at their house.”

“Lil,” she said airily, “Alex’s mom loves you. You’re the daughter she never had. She gave you that pink Dior wristlet for your birthday! I looked it up on the website, and I’m telling you, it did not come cheap. It was, like, six hundred dollars!”

Rennie borrowed that wristlet months ago and hasn’t given it back. It’s more her style than mine anyway.

She was already bored of the conversation, so she was scanning the yard, running her hand through her long blond wig. “What the eff is Teresa Cruz doing here? I distinctly remember not inviting her. Look at her. She’s wearing a lei and a grass skirt. This isn’t a luau,” she fumed. “She’s so remedial. And I don’t know what’s up Reeve’s butt. He barely said hi to us, and hello, this party is for him.”

I was looking for Teresa in her dumb getup when Alex caught my eye and waved at me. He was standing around with Reeve and Derek and his uncle. They were all smoking cigars except Alex. I started to head over to them, when Rennie grabbed my arm. “Ohmygod,” she said. She had her phone in her hand, and she waved it at me, her eyes bright. “He texted me.”

“Who? Reeve?”

“Ian!” Ian was one of the UMass guys we met at the beach. He and Rennie had hung out earlier in the week. He’d taken her out to dinner, but then she hadn’t heard from him again. “They’re having a party! It’s the last night of their rental. We have to go.”

“Right now?”

“Yes!”

Laughing, I said, “Ren, we can’t leave. This is our party, remember? We have to bring out the cupcakes and fireworks and stuff.” Nadia and I spent the afternoon decorating those cupcakes. We put blue food coloring in the frosting and crushed up graham crackers to look like sand.

Rennie pouted at me, pushing her lower lip out. “Please, Lil! He’s really cool. He’s premed! And I told you how his friend Mike kept asking about you. Can’t we just go and hang out for a little bit? We can come right back. No one will even notice we’re gone!”

I looked around the yard. Ashlin was over by the pool house, playing poker with some of the guys. Derek was trying to peek at her cards, and she kept laughing and pushing him away. She definitely wouldn’t have noticed if we left, not with the attention Derek was giving her.

I asked, “What about Nadia?”

“She’s fine! Look, she’s having fun.”

I spotted Nadia, sitting by the pool with her friends, her legs in the water, kicking with her flippers. They were giggling and splashing. Rennie pulled on my arm and swung it from side to side. Pleadingly she said, “Puh-leaaase, Lil. This is my last chance to see him. They’re leaving tomorrow. It’s now or never!”

I sighed. “An hour, and then we come right back. Promise?”

Rennie squealed and hugged me. “Yay!” Then she looked down at her mermaid costume and frowned. “We can’t show up like this. We’re going to look so high school.”

“We can change in the car,” I said quickly. If we went to Rennie’s house to get ready, it would take forever. I just wanted to go and come back so people could hurry up and enjoy our cupcakes, even if they were a box mix. I didn’t set them out with the other food because I wanted to pass them around special.

Rennie shrugged. “Okay, then. I’m gonna go check my makeup. I’ll meet you at the car in two secs.”

She ran toward the house, and I headed for her Jeep. I was rummaging in my overnight bag for the tank top I’d been wearing earlier, when I felt someone tug on my hair. I whirled around.

Reeve.

He reached over my shoulder and pushed his arm against the door, closing it. “Where are you sneaking off to?” he demanded, leaning in close.

“None of your business.”

“Come on. Tell me.”

I tried to push him away from the Jeep, but he wouldn’t budge. “Reeve, move!”

“So you throw the kid a welcome home party and then bail on it?” Reeve wagged his finger at me. “You’re not a nice girl, Cho.” Then he strutted off.

“I never said I was,” I called after him.

*   *   *

I open up my soda and sip on it as I walk back to our lunch table. I sit down where Alex had been sitting, next to PJ and Reeve. Reeve’s looking at me just like he did that night, eyes narrow and suspicious. He says, “What are you pouting about now, Cho? Having to buy your own soda?”

“Shut up.”

“Girls like you—,” he starts to say, and then he gestures at me, and his arm accidentally knocks over my Coke. It splashes over the front of my sweater. Yelping, I jump up. PJ and Reeve push back their chairs to avoid the spill. I feel the Coke seeping through the cashmere onto my bra. The big brown spot spreads across my front. “You . . . you ruined it.”

“Chillax, Lillia. It was an accident.” Reeve comes at me with a napkin, trying to dab at the stain.

I recoil. “Don’t touch me!”

Sneering, Reeve says, “Oh, I forgot. Princess Lillia doesn’t like to be touched. Isn’t that right?” He winks at me.

“Reeve, leave her alone,” Rennie says.

My eyes fill. I bend my head and wipe at my sweater so that my hair falls across my face. I tell myself that everything is fine. It’s just Reeve being Reeve. He doesn’t know anything. How could he? Rennie wouldn’t tell anyone. We promised each other. I try to take a deep breath, but it catches in my throat. My bottom lip starts to quiver. I have to get out of here before I lose it in front of everyone.

“For your information, this sweater costs three hundred dollars, which is more than that jalopy you drive around.”

I pick up my bag and head for the girls’ bathroom. I run in and over to the sink and turn on the faucet. I won’t cry. I won’t. I will not cry at school. I don’t do that.

Except it’s not a choice.

I’m crying so hard that my shoulders shake and my throat hurts. I can’t stop.

The door opens, and I expect it to be Rennie. But it’s not. It’s Kat DeBrassio. She drops her bag into the well of the sink next to mine and messes with her hair in the mirror, shaking her bangs out.

I quickly splash my face with cold water to try to hide the fact that I’ve been crying. But she must see, because she asks, in her gruff way, “You okay?”

I stare straight ahead, at my reflection. “I’m fine.”

*   *   *

I met Rennie first, in the concessions stand line at the old movie theater on Main Street. I was ten years old and I felt so grown-up, standing alone with my ten dollar-bill in my back pocket. Rennie told me she liked my flip-flops. They were lavender and pink polka dot. She introduced me to Kat a couple of weeks later. From then on we were a trio. Before Rennie and Kat, I only had Nadia to play with when we came to spend the summer on Jar Island. Now I had two best friends.

Every Friday night we had sleepovers, and we’d alternate houses. We’d spy on Kat’s older brother and play with her dog, Shep. At Rennie’s condo we’d make microwave peanut brittle, and her mom would give us makeovers. At my house Rennie and Kat would race in the pool, and I’d stay in the shallow end and be the judge. We’d play with my Victorian dollhouse, and then, when we were older, we’d make movies with my dad’s camcorder and screen them for my mom and Nadia over breakfast.

I used to be jealous, knowing that when I left Jar Island at the end of August, Rennie and Kat still had each other. In a lot of ways the two of them were alike—both were fearless. I was the scaredy-cat. That’s what Kat was always calling me. I never wanted to jump off the high dive, or hold the rudder when Kat’s dad took us sailing, or go off with boys we met on the beach. But Rennie and Kat, they both looked out for me. Made me feel safe.

When my family decided to move here for good, it was a dream come true. That summer was a warm-up for the fun we were going to have in high school. But then, at the beginning of August, Rennie finally convinced her mom to let her get a nose job. I never thought she had a bad nose, but once Rennie pointed out the bump on the bridge, I saw it too. When the bandages came off and the scars healed, she was the one who decided we had to be cool in high school. Kat said it was dumb, and Rennie got pissed, and they had one of their blowups. I expected it to be over within a few days, the way their fights usually were, but a week later Rennie was still pissed. She said Kat was immature, she didn’t get it. She’d hold us back.

We didn’t drop Kat right away. We did our back-to-school shopping together off island, like we’d planned. We went to the movies for Kat’s birthday, but Rennie made a big deal about sitting next to me so we could share Sno-Caps, and that was awkward. Afterward we were supposed to spend the night at Kat’s house. But as we were walking out of the movie theater, Rennie announced that she didn’t feel good, that she wasn’t going to sleep over. It was obvious she was faking; Rennie’s a horrible actress. I pulled Kat aside and asked, “Do you still want me to come over?” and she said, “Forget it.”

I went home and mulled the whole thing over, first by myself, then with my mom. I told her how Rennie and Kat had been fighting, how Rennie didn’t want to be friends with Kat anymore, and how I felt caught in the middle. “I mean, if I have to take sides, I guess I’d probably take Rennie’s,” I said.

My mom said, “Why do you have to take sides? Why not be the one to bring them back together?”

“I doubt Rennie would listen,” I said.

“You could at least try,” she urged me. “Kat’s been through a lot. She needs her friends.”

I felt a pang of guilt. Kat’s mom had died the year before. Her mom had been sick for a long time. Kat didn’t want to talk about it, not to me at least. She talked to my mom sometimes, though, when Rennie and I were hanging out in my room.

“I’ll try,” I told my mom.

Then I had this great idea. For the first day of school, I would give Rennie and Kat friendship necklaces. It would bind us together again, smooth out the bad feelings.

My mom and I picked them out from the nice jewelry store in White Haven, the place where my dad always gets my mom something for their anniversary. Identical gold necklaces, with a special charm for each of us. I was really excited to give them the black velvet boxes; I knew that Rennie especially would love it.

That first day of school Rennie’s mom came to pick me up, and I expected to see both Kat and Rennie in the backseat. They lived on the same side of the island, and I lived farthest away.

But Kat wasn’t there, just Rennie in her new jean mini, with the decorative stitching on the back pockets. I climbed into the car, and asked, “Is Kat sick?”

Rennie shook her head.

When she saw her mom eyeing us in the rearview mirror, Rennie leaned in and whispered, “I didn’t want to pick her up. I’m over her.”

“Did you tell her you weren’t coming to get her?” I whispered back. What if Kat was outside waiting for us? What if she was late on the first day of high school?

“She’ll figure it out,” Rennie said. She touched her nose and asked, worried, “Does it look swollen?”

Even though I’d planned on giving Rennie and Kat their necklaces at the same time, I went ahead and gave Rennie hers right then. She seemed grumpy, and I wanted to start our day off on a nice note. She squealed so loudly, her mom slammed on the breaks. Her charm was a heart. Mine was a tiny gold cupcake. We both put our necklaces on right away.

I put Kat’s in her locker. She didn’t buy a lock when we went back-to-school shopping. She said she’d just forget the combination anyway. Besides, nobody stole on the island; it was totally safe.

When I saw Kat come down the hallway later that day, her eyes were red, and she wasn’t wearing the necklace. Her charm was a gold key. I liked how the key was pretty, but there was also something tough and practical about it. Just like Kat.

She walked right by me.

I tried to bring it up to Rennie later, to see if there was a way we could get things back to how they were before. But she refused. She didn’t even want to talk about it. For Rennie it was over. Erased. She had a way of doing that. Erasing the stuff she didn’t like. I’d just never seen her erase a person before.

*   *   *

I dry my face with a paper towel. I turn to toss it into the trash, and with my back to her, I say, “Honestly, I never thought your breath stunk. For what it’s worth.” I realize that these might be the first real words I’ve spoken to her in years.

Kat stares at me, and I know she’s surprised.

And then, from the last stall, there’s a sound. Shallow breaths, the kind you have to fight to take when you’re crying. Both of our heads swivel toward it. “Who’s there?” I call out, panicky, like I’ve been caught doing something bad.

“Yo. Who’s in here?” Kat says.

There’s no answer. Then Kat marches down to the stall and kicks the door open with her boot.