“It’s, like, a mile,” Hiro groans.
“Dude, you swim, like, eight miles a day,” Michael says, and licks a drip of vanilla that creeps down his cone.
Mr. Tanaka claps my back, and I grin. I super love Lily’s dad. He seems as pumped to be here as the others. Lily says he’s got a painting studio in the cottage, and that we’ll hardly see him once he’s lost in his watercolors.
The streets are lined with similar wood-shingled houses, with flowerpots and American flags around the doors. A blue line of flat water ahead lets me know we’re heading for the beach. I get that sunny, unreal feeling, like that day in Lowell: that this is a scene from an American film—a happily-ever-after, Lily’s-America film, rich and sweet. I feel the tiniest bit disloyal to Haley, because we’re supposed to do all this together tomorrow—though I’m still not sure what I’ll say to Lily. It’s bizarre that my only two friends in this country have houses in the same place. It’d be so much easier if we could all just hang out, but something tells me that’ll never happen.
“Hold my sundae?” Lily’s cup is still warm with hot fudge, and I see melting balls of purple ice cream. She takes a pic as we pass a blue house with tubs of red tulips by the door. Soon we’re picking our way down a narrow path through the dunes. She tosses her empty cup into a bin and turns to take another pic from the beach, the blue house just visible.
“Zara’s house—old house, I mean.”
“Really?” A breeze throws my hair forward onto my mint-chocolate-chip cone. I pinch green goo off a curl and flick it onto the sand. I remember Lily saying Zara had moved to Eastborough from Maine, but I didn’t know Zara also came from Old Orchard Beach.
“We met here in second grade. Zara was year-round, but we just came in summer.”
We walk on, watching the boys goof on the sand ahead, and the gulls that cry in the sky. But that sun-kissed feeling of being part of something perfect has leaked away. All this should be Zara’s, and was: the role of best friend in Lily’s Old Orchard Beach movie, with lobster rolls and smiling locals and beach walks to the cottage. I imagine Lily’s bedroom here: Is it another shrine of photos to Zara, pre-evil?
Wait! Maybe Zara knows Haley. The thought stops me mid-lick. And, ugh, that mouthful had sand in it. It grinds between my teeth, and I try to spit without Lily seeing. I am redefining classy today. “Can I dump this?” I hold up my cone and wipe my chin. There’s no bin nearby, and I don’t fancy lobbing it into the waves that break on the shore; I’ll be spotted littering and ruin the good Tanaka name.
Lily looks at my sad cone, her mouth to one side in thought. “Give it.”
She snaps off the pointy end and plunges the rest of the cone into the sand, then she breaks the handful of sugar cone into pieces that she scatters around us. It’s only seconds before a gray-white gull lands with a rush of wings, lunging for the food with its yellow beak. Two more birds ease out of the sky, fold away lanky wings, and race to peck at the melting cone. “Genius,” I say, and Lily shrugs.
“My mother calls them sky rats, but I love them.” Lily lifts her phone to take a pic of me while I’m surrounded by gulls. I raise my arms like I’m master of birds, and she smiles.
We walk in silence. The wind blows Lily’s hair to the side, and she holds her arms around her middle. I’m starting to recognize her uncomfortable-conversation pose. “Zara had a horrible dad,” she says. “Not an excuse for how mean she’s been to you, but …”
“It’s fine.” It’s not fine. But I don’t want to talk about Zara. My phone, with the ugly messages about her, feels like it’s roaring in my pocket—like the ticking heart under the floorboards, in that story we read in English.
My stomach plunges as I remember there’s even more stuff on my phone that I’d hate Lily to see: all the mean “Queen Lily” stuff Haley says. And there’s more. You really think Lily likes u? What if she’s laughing at u with Zara behind your back?
“No, it’s not fine, it’s just—I don’t want to blab about Zara’s private stuff.” Lily breathes out. “Long story short: Bad dad, moved to Eastborough because we were there, her mom remarried a nice guy, and there’s a new baby. And I’m not—we’re not—friends like we used to be.” Lily says this last part like it’s a terrible confession.
I nod. My friend Maisie back home thought she’d love it when her sister was born. But she was so jealous, she wanted to leave the baby on the tram so someone else could take it. If Zara had that baby jealousy going on, and that baggage of an awful dad … and then Lily’s drifting away to Nikesh, plus she’s starting to be friends with me …
I let the thought trail off. I’m not about to forgive Zara. Remembering what she did still makes me want to kick something. She didn’t just sabotage the friendship between me and Lily, she humiliated me in front of everyone, then she tried to strip me. I haven’t slept through the night since. “People change,” I murmur.
Lily shakes her head. “We weren’t supposed to. We had this Best Friend Code thing.” Lily points to some huge rocks rising from the wet sand at the shoreline. “We sat and said it right there. We promised we’d tell each other the truth and always be friends and never get mad.”
I can’t help thinking of me and Haley. What would our Best Friend Code be? I promise to make you laugh and help you survive bullies and always be online for you. “How can you promise never to be mad at someone?” I ask.
“You can’t. But we were seven, you know?”
Ahead of us, the boys are heading away from the water, toward a house.
“That’s the cottage?”
Lily doesn’t answer but calls to Hiro, who’s shouting for us to hurry. She takes off in a run, and my sandals slide in the sand, but I race to follow and catch up to them at the boardwalk. A long, rope-edged path leads to the house, giving us a good look at it. Cottage made me think of Kerry, and the little stone cottages bunched by the side of the road opposite Granny’s.
But this is magnificent: blue and huge and right on the beach, its wraparound porch like a skirt around a grand old lady. Sunset has begun to color the sky and sea, and the windows reflect its warm light. One of the upper-floor rooms has a balcony, with white-framed French doors that glow pink; so do the floppy white flower heads of the bushes across the lawn.
Lily tries to squeeze past Hiro, but he’s faster and presses his hand to a panel by the door. Lily shouts something in Japanese. Hiro grins and waves a theatrical hand in the air as the door swings open.
“Welcome home, Hiro,” says a Jeeves-like voice from somewhere, though I can’t see anything like Jeeves’s glowing discs. Everything looks old-school: a classic sitting room with flowered upholstery and a brick fireplace. A ceiling fan is still, and wide steps lead upstairs. There’s no hint of where the voice is coming from. “And Lily,” the voice adds, like an afterthought.
Hiro laughs. “Smart house,” Lily says to me. “Mom’s idea, obvs, though Hiro—has—to—be—first.” She whacks his arm with each word.
A jumble of beeps and notifications buzzes through pockets and bags. “You’ve been on our house Wi-Fi, so Taiko recognizes you here, too,” Hiro says. Everyone flops onto sofas and chairs to catch up on what they’ve missed, but I delay looking at my frantically vibrating phone. I’ve been out of coverage for a while; there are probably a dozen pre-dance-jitters messages from Haley about meeting that boy tonight.
I’ve got jitters of my own. I’ve wanted this so long—to hang out with Haley—but what if she doesn’t like me when we meet? I have no idea what she’ll do when I ask her to delete those messages about Zara. How would I feel if I met my best friend in person for the first time, and they asked me to hand over my phone so they could start erasing things? I don’t want to make her cross. And I can’t lose her.
My stomach is tight as a fist as I open You-chat, but it’s not what I think. It’s worse.
Haley’s message is a screen capture of the photo Lily posted earlier, of me and the gulls.
Red-faced rage em
ojis, followed by sobbing faces, surround Haley’s words.
Having a fab time in OOB with your BFF, I see. U know what? Don’t bother coming to the dance. You obvs don’t need me anymore.
You don’t have to do that; you’re a guest.” Lily gives me a pained look, leaning in the doorway of our room, the very beautiful room with the balcony overlooking a now-starry sea. Everything here is as classy as the rest of Lily’s life: antique chest of drawers, gorgeously thick rug, old seascape oil paintings—proper art, like in a museum. Another dish of hand-painted birds, like the ones by Lily’s front door in Eastborough, nestles on the table between our beds, feathers shining in the lamplight.
“It’s fine! Nearly done!” I fling the fitted sheet over my bed. I’ve been all exclamation marks and this-is-so-great cheer since we got here. My phone, and Haley’s jealous message that I haven’t answered, are stuffed into the bottom of my backpack.
All through dinner and then Scrabble in front of the fire with Mr. Tanaka—complete with cookies and hot chocolate that Hiro brought in on a tray—I’ve grinned my way through the evening, counting the minutes until I can sneak out to make things right with Haley. “I need to help out: Your family is totally spoiling us.”
“You win. I am just wiped.” Lily trudges in, yawning hugely, and falls onto her bed. I slipped up here to make both beds while the others were washing up. I planned to brave my phone, too—tell Haley she’s still my bestie, obviously—but I convinced myself I didn’t have to. I’ll see her at the middle school and say it all then: Sorry I upset you, sorry for dragging you into the Zara jokes that I’m now desperate to hide, sorry if a cop knocks on your door and demands to see your phone.
Jeeves says the school is a long walk away, but if I run, I’ll make it. The dance ends at ten, though; I need to go now.
Lily meant what she said about being wiped, because before I’ve even brushed my teeth, she’s snoring. I freeze, unable to believe my luck, then my brain kicks in. I shove my pillows into a me shape, in case Lily wakes up and sees I’ve gone, although from the sound of her, she’s deeply under. The quiet snores are such a human sound, my heart goes out to her: She must be exhausted. She spent two nights at the hospital this week with Zara.
I grab my phone and pad downstairs, through the darkness. Hiro and Michael are watching a movie in their room, but I don’t know where Mr. Tanaka is: He vanished into the studio earlier. In the living room, a full moon paints silver rectangles on the floor, and holy mother of God, I nearly scream. A doglike lump creeps over the carpet. My fingernails dig my cheeks where I’ve clamped my mouth closed, but my panic calms as I stare at the humming shape, with its flashing red light. It’s not a dog; it’s a robot vacuum, quietly hoovering our cookie crumbs from earlier.
I pull on my shoes, and I’m about to touch the door handle when I spot something: Another red light shines from a control pad on the wall. I remember Taiko, their AI who greeted us. If this is a security alarm, he might wail like mad when the door opens.
“Jeeves,” I whisper, hunched over my phone. “I need to leave the house. Do you know Taiko?” It sounds ludicrous, but maybe they’re friends in their creepy AI dimension.
My phone screen goes black and pulses with that heartbeat light that means Jeeves is thinking. I scramble for my earbuds just in time, and his voice sounds in my ears.
“Taiko became operational at the MIT Boston Robotics Lab in Cambridge, Massachusetts, on January twelfth—”
“Jeeves, stop.” I clutch my forehead. I don’t have time for this. Unless I get out now, I won’t catch Haley. “Can you make Taiko open the door?”
Almost before I’ve finished speaking, the control pad light blinks to green, and the latch clicks softly. The door swings inward, opening a fan of moonlight into the room, and relief floods through me. I slip out, phone clutched to my chest, and I run.
Jeeves, who I deeply love at this instant, murmurs instructions, and my desperation-fueled legs streak me through the streets, past dark houses and the occasional bright window. Moonlight bounces off pickup trucks and turns the American flags black striped.
Closer to town there’s more traffic, and the streets widen. I can feel drivers slow as they pass me, staring. I keep my eyes ahead, breath pounding in my ears. I’m out for a run. A night run. People do this.
“Turn left.” I nod at Jeeves’s instructions and cut away from the main street. The road ahead is silent with darkness. Yellow light pools under a single, distant streetlamp. This instantly feels like a bad idea.
“Hey! You lost?” I nearly leap out of my skin: Someone in a battered white van has slowed to a crawl next to me. I give a noncommittal wave and throw him a tight smile. He’s skinny, maybe Mum’s age, and smiles back from behind a scraggled beard. It’s not a nice smile: too familiar, like he knows me, and we’re friends.
A chill crawls over me. The settled darkness ahead is an impossibility now. I do an about-face, like this was the plan, back toward the lights. A sudden cramp punctures my side. Not now! I clench my teeth and try to push through it, but it’s like a knife in my ribs.
There’s a squeak of tires that must be the van making a U-turn. As I reach the main road, its grubby shape is next to me again. The van looks like it’s been dragged slowly through a scrap heap, with deep gouges across the door.
“O-kay.” Jeeves has sensed my change of direction. He uses that judgy tone, like I’ve messed up, but he’ll fix it. “In two hundred feet, take a left.”
“You sure you’re all right?” Beardy asks.
No more eye contact for you, mister. I look stiffly ahead, the psycho-killer films that Michael watches pricking in my brain.
“Why you being stuck up? I’m trying to be nice.”
I imagine this guy dragging me into the van, driving away, padlocking me in his basement. I pick out details ahead: the neon of an Italian restaurant blazes brightly. If Beardy stays beside me, I’m going in there. But there’s no need. He mumbles something, the engine coughs, and he’s gone in a roar and belch of exhaust. I stagger to a stop, seizing my aching side, watching the van’s taillights glow.
“You should reach your destination by ten oh-five p.m.”
I groan and stumble forward again, squeezing my stomach muscles to drive away the pain of the cramp. I dig deep, like I’ve got ten laps to go and this is the championships. Soon I’m running hard. I will reach my destination before ten p.m. Whether Haley wants to see me or not.
A shout behind me makes me jump to the side. There’s the thump and clatter of a bike mounting the sidewalk, and it stops short in front of me. My pulse slams—I’m sure for an instant that this is another creep—but I spot Lily’s face as she lifts her helmet.
“Roisin!” She’s out of breath, staring at me like I have six heads. “What are you doing? Taiko wakes me up to say you’ve left, and I tell him he’s wrong till I see your blankets bunched up, like it’s a jailbreak.”
Adrenaline thunders through me from my run. Why did she have to follow me? Couldn’t she just stay in her happy cocoon of a life and let me do this? Helpless tears climb my throat. “Leave me alone!” I sob and push past her. I’ve no breath left, but I break into a run again, like there’s any way out of this cursed maze my life has become.
“Are you meeting Haley?” Lily calls after me.
It’s like an arrow through me. I bend over, clutch my knees, pull in air. My stomach is a sick hollow. I’ve told Lily nothing about Haley. She must have seen my phone. I should confess everything right now—our hateful messages about Zara, and my secret plan to meet Haley and beg her to erase them. I can’t, I can’t. “You don’t know.” I say it too softly for Lily to hear, but she’s beside me now.
“What don’t I know?”
I shake my head, mute.
“Try me. Because I know a lot of stuff. Is it about Geometry? Ask me anything, I’ve got a great tutor.”
I huff out a laugh, and snot. An old bench, thick with years of paint, sits beneath the streetlamp.
I flump onto it and swipe at my eyes. “Is that me or Nikesh?”
“You’re actually way better. Don’t tell him I said that.” Lily sits next to me and crosses her arms over her middle. The breath she heaves out is extra long. “There are a couple of things I need to say, so just let me, okay? I’m sorry about Zara. I’m sorry I messed it all up when you tried to tell me what she did to you.”
I swallow and nod. She’s said it before, but funny how I still need to hear it.
“I think about it a lot. I can’t believe I did that, especially after what happened when I was in Tokyo.” Lily shakes her head, staring at a spot on the ground. “It’s where I spent fourth grade. Nothing I did was right. My Japanese was awful, the lunches my dad made weren’t beautiful enough, and when he hugged me goodbye at the school gate? Forget it.” She gulps and looks up to the streetlight, her eyes bright. “I was a total weirdo to the girls in my school. I got spiders in my lunch, graffiti on my books, and the constant whispers that I was hafu—half. Half American, half Japanese. Half-breed.”
My brain can’t take this in. Lily’s the last person I’d have thought could be bullied. How could anyone be horrible to someone so kind? “But—your mum was born in Tokyo, right? She’s totally Japanese.”
“Ro, she’s also white. Which didn’t exactly make me blend in. That’s when I first figured it out: The world punishes different. Especially in Japan. Especially in fourth grade.”
“Seventh isn’t a walk in the park, either,” I murmur. My mind feels like it’s stretched so far, it’s about to snap. Lily was bullied. Looks like we have more in common than our AI-obsessed mums. “Ugh, Lily, I am sorry. For snapping at you, and for what happened to you.”
“It’s okay.” She shrugs. “Can you guess now why I wanted to be friends?”
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