I’m concentrating so hard on making it to the end of the lane that I don’t even notice when Reeve leaves.

On Wednesday, I’m wearing my yellow polka-dot bikini, the high-waisted one. Rennie calls it grandma chic, but it makes me feel glamorous, a bathing beauty, like Marilyn. This one doesn’t have a tie around the neck; it’s an underwire top, so it’s more secure.

It’s silent in here, except for the sound of Reeve’s kicks and splashes echoing against the tiles. I feel glum as I collect the kickboard and climb down the ladder into the pool. Same as yesterday. Yesterday we didn’t talk. Not really. And we definitely didn’t flirt.

I’m splashing and floating along toward the middle of the lane when I decide that today will be my last day. I’ve given it my all. Kat and Mary couldn’t ask for more. They’ll have to understand that I’ve done my very best to get Reeve to notice me, but I’m out. This is pointless. I didn’t promise to spend the rest of my senior year on a kickboard.

I’m deciding all of this when Reeve’s bored voice calls out, “Why are you here again?” He’s hanging on to the side of the pool, shaking water out of his goggles.

“I thought you didn’t want to talk,” I say, resting my arms and chin on the board.

He ignores that. “You know they’re not going to let you use a kickboard in the swim test, right? At least that’s how I remember it. But I took it a long time ago. Like freshman year.”

“I know that,” I snap peevishly, and then I stop myself before I can say anything else. Not very Marilyn of me. This is my chance to make a connection, I have to make the most of it. I take a breath, and in a sweeter tone I say, “I’m just . . . getting used to doing laps.”

“What you need to get used to is putting your face in the water,” he says, swimming toward me. When he gets close enough, he splashes me right in the face.

“Quit it!” I yell, swiveling around to kick away from him and holding on tight to my board. Oh my God, I hate him so much!

Reeve makes a lunging motion like he’s going to dunk me, and I let out a scream. He grabs me by the waist, hoisting me in the air. I’ve still got my fingers clenched around my board, I’m kicking and splashing as hard as I can, but he doesn’t let go. “I said stop!” I scream, and my terrified voice echoes throughout the pool. Not because I’m afraid to be thrown. It’s his hands on me where I don’t want them to be. It’s me telling a boy to stop and him not listening.

It feels worse than drowning.

He lets go and I fall back into the water. When I come up to the surface, he’s looking at me like I’m crazy. My heart is racing; I’m breathing hard. Reeve swims back to the other end of the pool and lifts himself out of the water. With his back turned to me, he dries himself off with a towel.

“Don’t you ever do that to me again!” I scream.

He turns around and eyes me. “You’re going to have to get your hair wet eventually. If I were you, I’d worry less about my bikini and my hair and more about actually, you know, swimming.”

My mouth drops open. “Well, I’m sorry I don’t own a swim cap and a racer-back Speedo.”

He shakes his head at me like I’m some sad case. Then he walks off, and with his slight limp it’s more like a strut. The door slams behind him. And my heart is still racing.

That night, I’m digging around in my swimsuit drawer for my black one-piece to wear to the pool tomorrow. Because black says, I mean business. It’s not a Speedo—it has a halter neck and a little keyhole—but it’ll give me better support than a two-piece, at least.

I’m sifting through string bikinis when I find it. Not the black one. The red one. The one I wore that night, the night at the beach house.

My hands shake as I ball it up and throw it into the wastebasket.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

It’s Friday, and I’m wandering the halls with a bathroom pass, trying to eat up some of sixth period, when I spot Mary tucked underneath the first-floor stairwell with a book.

“Shouldn’t you be in class?” Mary looks up, startled, but relaxes when she sees that it’s me and not a hall monitor. She smiles coyly. “I’m, um, taking a break.”

“Like a bathroom break? Or a break like an I’m-skippingclass-today break.”

Mary drops her head. “Okay, you got me. I didn’t study for my Spanish quiz. So last period I asked to go to the bathroom and then came here to hide out until next period.” She lets out a sigh. “My aunt is going to kill me when she sees my report card this semester. I swear, the only class I’m going to pass is chorus.”

“Well, then you made a good decision to cut. But you need to find another place to hide out, stat. The hall monitors always check this spot on their rounds. Trust me, I know.” I glance over both my shoulders. “In fact, I’m surprised you haven’t been busted already. You should head to the nurse’s office and hide out there. Pretend you have cramps or something.”

“Thanks,” Mary says, and stands up.

“How are things with your aunt? Any better?”

“A little bit. She’s started painting again, but she’s still not speaking to me.” Mary shakes her head. “It’s funny. I never remember fighting like this with my own parents. I feel so . . . unwelcome in my own house, you know?”

I lean against the banister. “Hey, you want to do something tonight? You and me?”

Mary brightens. “Like what?”

“How about we go for a drive.”

“Sure. That’d be great.”

“Cool. I’ll pick you up at none.” I’m about to walk away, back up to the second floor, when I say, “Wait. Where’s your hall pass?” I hold mine up. It’s a big wooden carving of the symbol for pi, some ugly thing one of the remedial shop kids must have made for the math department, probably for extra credit.

Mary bites her lip and says, “Uh-oh. My teacher last period didn’t give me one.”

“Well, then don’t walk up by the science labs. I just came from there and there’s a hall monitor sitting right past the doors. Take the back door by the gym and walk past the library to the nurse’s office.”

“Got it,” Mary says, and spins in the other direction. “Thanks. I’ve never had detention before.”

I roll my eyes. “Of course you haven’t, sweetie.”

I wake up to Shep licking my face. I leap off the couch and run over to the window. It’s already dark out.

“What time is it?”

Pat checks his phone. “A few minutes after ten. Why?”

Shit! Shit shit shit!

“Where you off to?” he asks as I run through the kitchen, looking for my boots by the back door.

“Out,” I say. Thank God the car starts. I drive so fast to Mary’s house. What a jerk I am, to be late for a thing I invited her to! Ugh. At a red light I try calling Mary’s house, but the line is busy.

When I get there, she’s on the curb, waiting in the dark. She’s got on the same dress she wore to school today, a little flowered thing, underneath her parka.

“I’m so so sorry I’m late,” I say, jumping out of the car. I open the passenger-side door for her gallantly, because I feel like a total piece of shit. “I fell asleep watching TV. I tried calling your house, but the phone was busy.” I wince. “Have you been waiting out here long?”

She gives me a tiny smile. She doesn’t seem mad, which is a relief. Mary might be the most forgiving person I know. “I knew you’d come.”

Mary and I drive around for a bit and listen to music. After a few laps around the island, I get hungry. The only place open this time of year, at this time of night, is the Greasy Spoon, a twenty-four-hour diner in T-Town. It’s never hopping, because the food isn’t good, but there are a few not-too-god-awful things on the menu.

I pull up and park around the side. The lot is strangely crowded. Hopefully I won’t have to wait long for my food. “You want anything?”

Mary yawns and shakes her head no.

I walk inside and order at the counter. Coffee, black with two sugars, and a cinnamon doughnut. I’m waiting as the lady punches in my order when I hear her voice. Rennie.

I turn my head and there she is, sitting at the end of a long table in the middle of the diner. It’s like the entire Jar Island football team is here. And all the cheerleaders, too. I see Lillia huddled laughing with Ashlin and a couple of other girls on the squad. Each of the girls has a long-stemmed red rose sitting in her water glass. They’re all still in their cheering uniforms except for Rennie.

I remember now. Tonight was the last football game of the season.

I look back and Rennie is staring at me. We lock eyes, and I immediately look away, because I don’t want to get into any shit right now.

“Oh, look! It’s Kat DeBrassio!” she says it in a false whisper, and everyone turns in her direction. “Hey, should we ask her to come over and sit with us?”

I can tell by the way her words slide out of her mouth that she’s been drinking. I bet she’s pissed that our team actually did okay without Reeve. Alex sees me, they all do, and he tries sticking a menu in front of Rennie’s face, to get her to look at something. She swats it away.

I turn back to the counter and give sharp eyes to the waitress. Can she pour my freaking coffee already so I can get out of here? I wonder if this kind of shit will still happen after we’ve graduated. If whenever I come back home to visit, I’ll always have to dread about running into Rennie on the island somewhere.

“Kat, are you like stalking me or something?” Rennie says. “How many times do I have to tell you . . . I’m not a lesbian!” Rennie cackles like a hyena. “Loser trash.”

That’s it. I turn to say something back, but I don’t have to. Lillia sets down her menu and says, “Rennie, you’re just pissed that we all got roses from our players tonight, and Reeve couldn’t even be bothered to show up for you.”

You could hear a pin drop. Rennie’s jaw goes slack. Everyone at the table turns to face Lil, who for a second looks as surprised as everybody else. Rennie’s face turns bright red, the brightest I’ve ever seen on a person. But then she waves her hand at one of the waitresses and says, “Can we puh-lease order,” in her most whiny, impatient voice. She takes a sip of her water, and her hand is shaking.

Lil doesn’t look at me. Or maybe I don’t give her the chance. I turn back to the counter, take my stuff, and walk out of there as fast as I can.

I go outside and Mary sits up. “Hey. You okay?”

“Yeah,” I say, smiling, because holy shit. “I’m good.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

I’ve thought about quitting yearbook committee a few times, but I keep telling myself to stick with it, even though I haven’t gotten to do any photo collages yet. It’s hard, because the fun jobs are already taken, and even if you ask if you can help, they pretend not to hear you.

The only person who hasn’t totally ignored me is a sophomore named Marisa Viola. She goes over all the page proofs, looking for formatting errors or misspellings in the text. I pulled a chair up to her desk and read over her shoulder. She’s super fast, and she’s circling things in her red pencil before I can even notice them, but I think it’s still good to have a second set of eyes looking out for mistakes.

After our Monday meeting, I decide to pop over to the library so I can take out one of those grammar and punctuation books. That’ll definitely help me do a better job.

On my way there, I pass by the gym offices. Coach Christy’s door is open. She’s having a heated conversation with someone. And then I see Rennie, sitting on her knees in one of Coach Christy’s chairs. She ducked out of yearbook early. All Rennie does is obsessively look through homecoming pictures and leave early. I swear, I don’t understand why she even bothers.

As soon as I pass by, I press myself up to the wall and listen. “Rennie, you didn’t even show for the entire last month of our cheer practices,” Coach Christy said with a sigh. “You’re not exactly in good standing with me right now. You understand that, right?”

“Why do you think that is? Because of Lillia! How could I

be around someone who’d steal homecoming queen from me?” I hear Coach Christy’s chair creak, like she’s leaning way back. “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you this, Rennie. I counted the ballots myself. I was the only one to touch them. Lillia Cho won homecoming queen fair and square.”

I expect Rennie to back down, to listen to reason, but the exact opposite happens. With an unwavering voice, she says, “I won homecoming queen. I did. I’ve asked, like, everyone who they voted for, and like ninety-nine percent of the population said me. All I’m saying is that if we had a revote, you’d see. I’ll pay to get the ballots printed up myself!”

“Rennie, please let this go. You and Lillia have been friends for a long time. You don’t want to let something as petty as who won some cheap plastic tiara ruin your friendship, do you?”

Rennie laughs. She laughs and it sends shivers down my spine. “There is no friendship. And you can tell me all you want that perfect little Lillia had nothing to do with me getting screwed over that night, but I’ll never believe you. Also, you suck as a cheering coach and your routines are all tired and nobody likes the music you pick for the halftime routines!”

In a flash Rennie’s flying past me down the hall.