GRETCHEN McNEIL
Balzer + Bray
An Imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers
DEDICATION
In loving memory of Doris Godinez-Phillips
EPIGRAPH
AND THEIR DOOM COMES SWIFTLY.
CONTENTS
Cover
Title Page
Dedication
Epigraph
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty One
Twenty Two
Twenty Three
Twenty Four
Twenty Five
Twenty Six
Twenty Seven
Twenty Eight
Twenty Nine
Thirty
Thirty One
Thirty Two
Thirty Three
Thirty Four
Thirty Five
Thirty Six
Thirty Seven
Thirty Eight
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Other Works
Credits
Copyright
About the Publisher
ONE
MINNIE’S FACE WAS DEATHLY PALE. SHE STARED straight ahead, eyes fixed on the back of the stained cloth seat, and bit her bottom lip so hard that Meg was afraid she would draw blood. She’d never seen Minnie this seasick.
“Mins, are you okay?”
Minnie dug her fingernails into the seat cushion. “I’m fine.”
“You’re turning green.”
The ferry rolled to the left as a particularly large swell hit them from starboard and Minnie clamped both hands over her mouth. For one tenuous moment, Meg was convinced her best friend was going to hurl right there in the passenger cabin, but as the boat slowly righted itself, Minnie relaxed.
“I’m fine,” she repeated, lowering her hands.
“Uh-huh.”
Meg rifled through her backpack and pulled out a plastic grocery bag, which Minnie absently took from her outstretched hand. “You don’t think it’ll be much longer, do you?”
Meg leaned against the cushion and propped her feet up on the facing row of seats. “I think we’re almost there.”
“Promise?”
Meg sighed. “I can’t promise when the ferry will arrive, Mins. But according to the schedule, we’re almost there, okay?”
“Fine!” Minnie snapped.
Meg recognized the sharpness in Minnie’s voice. It usually signaled a rapid change in Minnie’s mood, which happened all too frequently these days, especially when she stopped taking her antidepressants.
Instead of asking about her meds, which would just lead to an argument, Meg tried to get Minnie to think about something else.
“Remember when your parents invited me to Friday Harbor?” Meg said. It had been the summer before high school, the first time Meg had been invited on vacation with Minnie’s family.
A hint of a smile broke the corner of Minnie’s mouth. “You were so sick.”
“Right?”
“You puked all over the bathroom in that ferry.”
Meg laughed. “I thought your mom was going to throw me overboard.”
“Me too.” Minnie giggled.
Not one of Meg’s favorite memories, but maybe it would keep Minnie’s mind off her churning stomach. “And you weren’t sick at all. So I’m sure you’ll be fine ’til we get to Henry Island.”
Minnie shook her head. “But that was summer. When the water’s calm.” Minnie gestured toward the double-paned window. “Not like this.”
“Good point.”
Meg gazed outside. The rain had died down for the moment—erratic water trails no longer zipped diagonally across the pane—but the wind, if anything, had intensified. It howled past the cabin, whipping from ahead, then slamming into the sides of the ferry with a force that seemed almost supernatural.
Minnie leaned her head against Meg’s shoulder. “Maybe we shouldn’t have come.”
Meg couldn’t suppress a laugh. “It’s a bit late for that.”
“I know, but …”
“But what? This party is all you’ve talked about since we got the invites on Tuesday. I haven’t seen you this excited about anything since your dad gave you an Amex card for your birthday.”
Minnie sat up straight. “Jessica Lawrence invited us to her house party. That’s not an invitation you turn down, but …” She sighed deeply. “I don’t know. It’s not like we’re friends.”
“You used to be,” Meg said without thinking.
“Well, that was before—” Minnie stopped herself, but Meg knew what she was going to say: before you. “That was a long time ago,” Minnie said instead.
The unspoken words hung in the air like stale cigarette smoke. Meg had been the reason for Minnie’s fall from grace in the greater Seattle junior high social scene. They both knew it, but it was a touchy subject and one they rarely discussed. Minnie turned her head to the window and stared out into the darkening afternoon, and Meg instantly regretted even alluding to her friend’s former closeness with Jessica.
To distract herself, Meg pulled a copy of the Facebook invite out of her backpack and read it over for the bazillionth time.
Shhh! Don’t Spread the Word!
WHAT: Epic house party
WHEN: Presidents’ Day weekend
WHERE: White Rock House on Henry Island
WHY: Because if you miss this party you’ll regret it forever
Fully stocked house all to ourselves for three days. Like spring break in February! We’ve got special ferries set up and everything!!!!
But keep it quiet. We don’t want just anybody showing up. Can’t wait to see you there!
—Jess
Meg never felt comfortable at those kinds of parties; most of the time she just wanted to disappear into the wallpaper and pray that no one noticed her. But Minnie had been so excited. It was like an olive branch from the popular crowd. Meg couldn’t say no.
With any luck, she could find some quiet time alone, maybe wander the beaches by herself, find an isolated spot with her journal or her laptop and get some writing done.
A gust blasted the side of the ferry, rattling the cabin window. Meg sighed. Or maybe write in an isolated spot indoors? Like a broom closet or something? Stupid storm.
“Hey, I don’t want you spending the whole weekend in front of your laptop,” Minnie said from out of the blue.
Meg started. Was she really that predictable? “Um, okay.”
The plastic bag rustled as Minnie tightened her grip. “You’re going to have fun this weekend if it kills me.”
Meg bit her lip. “I have plenty of fun.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
Now it was Meg’s turn to be annoyed. “Mins, what are you talking about?”
Minnie sighed dramatically. “You used to be fun. Remember? We’d do crazy stuff. Now you’re like …”
Meg shifted in her seat. “Like what?”
“Like boring.”
“I’m not boring.”
Minnie snorted.
“Besides, we could’ve had fun at home. And not, you know, lied to our parents and gone to a house party on an island in the middle of nowhere.”
Minnie threw up her hands. “It’s not the middle of nowhere. Half of Seattle has summer homes on the San Juan Islands. And we were not going to tell our parents.” Minnie finished with an em
phatic nod of her head. “Especially not after that body was found in Everett this morning. Daddy would never have let me go.”
Meg shuddered. She’d seen the report on the news, the charred remains of a body found in the locker room of their rival school, Mariner High. It was a gruesome murder and so far the body hadn’t been identified.
“The last thing I need this weekend,” Minnie continued, “is Daddy dropping in to check up on me. That would ruin everything.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Despite the remoteness of the island, Meg couldn’t help but agree that Minnie’s dad showing up at the party wasn’t out of the realm of possibility.
Minnie placed her hand over Meg’s and squeezed. “Look, we’re going to have fun this weekend. We need it. Okay?”
Meg forced a smile. Minnie was right. There had been such a strain between them the last few months. First Meg’s acceptance at UCLA, which Minnie interpreted as Meg abandoning her, then Minnie’s struggles with her new medications. And of course the Homecoming night debacle …
Stop it, Meg said to herself. She needed to put that night out of her mind. It was over and done. And in a few months she’d never see him again anyway.
Without warning, the dull roar of the engines diminished and Meg felt the ferry slow. A second later, a scruffy-faced deckhand in an orange rain slicker shoved his head inside the cabin. “Henry Island. We’ll be docked in a few.”
Minnie sprang to her feet. “Finally!” She pulled her overnight wheelie and two small shoulder bags out of the luggage bin, then threw on her coat, glancing over her shoulder as she bounded out on deck. “Try to remember this is a party. Party equals fun.”
Meg sighed. Party equals fun. Woo hoo. Yay. Party.
With a deep breath, Meg shouldered her backpack and followed Minnie out on deck.
TWO
THE AIR WAS DAMP WITH THE KIND OF COLD meatiness that signaled the approach of another storm. Wind whipped at Meg’s hair, loosening strands from her ponytail. She tucked a few of them behind her ear as her eyes adjusted to the dusk.
Dull lights glowed in the distance across the bay. Roche Harbor, on the back side of San Juan Island. It looked closer than she’d imagined, and it was comforting to know that a decently populated town was just across the bay.
Meg shook her head. Why was she so skittish? She needed to loosen up. Secret house party hosted by the most popular girl in school? People would kill for an invite. So what if her parents didn’t know where she was? That was the fun of it, right?
Minnie stood beside the scruffy-faced deckhand, staring down the side of the ferry as it bobbed up and down in the water.
“We have to climb down?” she asked.
“Sorry, miss. Weather’s too rough,” he said. “Gotta use the ladder.”
Minnie glanced at her wholly inappropriate kitten-heel slingbacks. “But …”
“Just take them off,” Meg said, trying to keep the “I told you so” tone out of her voice.
“Don’t worry, miss.” The deckhand nodded down to his mate on the dock. “Branson’ll catch you if you fall.”
Minnie leaned over the rail and looked down at Branson, the portly, middle-aged crewman. Her eyes grew wide and she turned to Meg. “How—”
“You’ll be fine,” Meg said. “I promise.” It was what Minnie needed to hear, even if it wasn’t true.
Minnie sighed and slid out of her heels, leaving them on the deck, and purposefully climbed over the side of the boat. “Okay. If you promise.”
Meg shook her head as Minnie disappeared over the side, then picked up the discarded heels and shoved them in her backpack. This was why she was going away to college. She needed, for once in her life, to put herself first.
Meg watched the deckhand nonchalantly toss their luggage overboard with the kind of disinterested yet fluid motion that signaled a well-known routine. Branson caught each bag with the same easy flow, depositing it on the dock and swinging around just in time to catch the next one. There was something simultaneously cool and creepy about their unspoken luggage dance, fascinating in its choreography and yet ever so slightly disturbing in the mindless, dronelike way in which it was executed.
“Your turn, miss,” the deckhand said, snapping Meg from her thoughts.
“Oh, right.” She swung herself onto the ladder. As she started to climb down, the boat heaved and the deckhand grabbed Meg’s arm to steady her.
“Thanks,” she said, clutching the top rung of the ladder with both hands.
“You sure you’ll be okay?” he asked. His hand still gripped her arm.
“Yeah. Short ladder. I’ll be fine.”
He cocked his head. “No, on the island.”
Meg squinted up at his worn, lined face. “Yeah, why not?”
The deckhand paused, then craned his neck to look over toward the northern part of the island. “Nothing,” he said at last.
Um, okay.
The ferry’s engines fired up again as Meg climbed down the side. “We’ll be back Monday to pick you up,” the deckhand shouted just as her feet touched the dock. “Be careful.”
Be careful? It was a weekend party full of hookups and beer bongs. Other than mono and dehydration, what did she need to be careful of?
Weirder and weirder.
As soon as Meg was clear of the ladder, Branson untied the line and, without a word, scrambled up the side of the boat.
Meg watched wistfully as he swung his body onto the pitching deck and disappeared behind the bulwark as the boat eased away from the island.
She half wished she could join them.
“Now what?” Minnie said. She stood barefoot, twirling a strand of her white-blonde hair.
Good question. Meg reluctantly pulled her attention away from the departing ferry and scanned the dock.
It was a rough, weather-beaten construction that jutted fifty yards out from the beach. Broken planks of moldering wood dotted the path to shore like little landmines, and the swells of water, even in the protected bay, seemed dangerously close to swamping the decaying pier.
Onshore, a forest of Douglas firs towered above the beach, silhouetted against the gray clouds that crowded the darkening sky. Meg thought she caught a glimpse of lights beyond the fringe of trees, but she wasn’t quite sure. She couldn’t see much in the gathering dusk, and with the moon and stars obscured by storm clouds, it was about to get extremely dark on Henry Island.
As the sound of the ferry’s engines faded into the distance, Meg felt suddenly isolated. Other than the dull rumble of water and wind, she couldn’t hear a thing, and there were no signs of life on the distant beach. Meg shivered. They were alone in the middle of nowhere, their only contact with the outside world retreating into the night.
Meg yanked her cell phone out of her jeans pocket. She desperately wanted to call someone—anyone—and tell them where they were.
“What are you doing?” Minnie asked.
Meg sheltered the screen of her phone from the ocean spray. “Nothing. Just wanted to see if we had a signal.”
“Do not call your parents.”
“I’m not!” Meg lied. Not that it mattered. She spun around, waving her phone slowly back and forth. The result was the same. “There’s no signal anyway.”
“Good!” Minnie snatched the phone out of her hand and shoved it in Meg’s backpack, retrieving her shoes in the process. She grinned and linked her arm through Meg’s. “It’s more fun this way. Like we’re stranded for three glorious days.”
Glorious was not the word that immediately sprang into Meg’s mind. “Sure, Mins. Whatever you—”
“Hello down there!”
Meg and Minnie turned sharply. Two figures appeared at the end of the dock, moving quickly toward them. Both were tall and wrapped up in heavy coats. In the muted light, Meg couldn’t see their faces, but one of them seemed oddly familiar.
“Meg!”
Meg’s stomach lurched. She knew that voice.
Minnie recognized it at
the same time. She clapped her hands and squealed. “Oh my God!”
Meg felt all the warmth drain from her body.
It was T. J. Fletcher.
THREE
IT HAD BEEN MONTHS SINCE MEG AND T.J. HAD spoken a word to each other. Not since Homecoming. They didn’t have any classes together that semester, and since Minnie had broken up with T.J.’s best friend, they never saw each other. Their friendship was over.
Not that everyone and their mom didn’t know every detail of T.J.’s life. Meg had heard the rumors: the football scholarship to U-Dub, the string of girlfriends, the wild parties. Minnie talked about him incessantly, obsessively. Although that part was normal. She’d been in love with T.J. since freshman year, even going so far as to date his best friend, Gunner, after T.J. rejected her. So in the weeks after Homecoming, when merely hearing his name made Meg cringe, she had to listen to Minnie go on and on about how amazing he was....
Minnie had no idea that Meg was in love with him too.
Which is why Meg needed to control herself, keep her emotions in check. One look at T.J.’s smiling face, his gorgeous dark brown skin, and prominent dimples, and it would be like one of those cartoon moments where the French skunk’s heart pounds so fiercely it literally leaps out of his chest for everyone to see. She couldn’t let that happen. No one could know how she really felt. Not Minnie. And especially not T.J.
“Glad you made it,” T.J. yelled as he strode down the dock.
Meg tried—and failed—to prevent the hot flush from creeping to her face. She prayed Minnie didn’t notice. He doesn’t like you, she told herself. He’s still mad at you.
Luckily Minnie only had eyes for T.J. “T.J.!” she squealed. She padded toward him, a slingback dangling from each hand. “We didn’t know you’d be here.”
No, they didn’t. Because there was no way in hell Meg would have come if she’d known T.J. was on the guest list.
The second figure followed T.J. down the dock. At first Meg thought it was Gunner, but the figure was too tall, too lanky. Someone new.
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