My phone buzzes again.

If so, meet at Judy Blue Eyes, 2am. If not, sit back and enjoy the show.

That’s what Kat always said she’d name her boat if she ever got one. After her mom. It was Judy’s favorite song.

CHAPTER TWELVE

MARY

IT WASN’T ME. IT COULDN’T HAVE BEEN ME.

Whatever happened back at school, whatever that was—I don’t even want to think about it. I just want out of here. Off this island, away from Reeve and everything that reminds me of him and who I used to be.

When I get home, Aunt Bette’s Volvo is in the driveway. I quietly set my bike down on the front lawn and walk backward, toward the street. Forget my dresses, my clothes. Aunt Bette can send me everything later. All I know is that I need to be on the next ferry out of here.

At the curb I turn and give the house one last look. I try to memorize the exact shade of gray the cedar shingles are, like the sky right before a summer storm. I count the white shutters bolted to each of the windows. Twelve. I trace the curve of the cobblestone walk through the air with my finger. I take it in, because this is the last time I’ll ever see this house again. I’m not ever coming back here. Never.

Then I take a deep breath and start the downhill walk toward the ferry, fighting back tears the whole way. I was crazy to think that Reeve would ever apologize for the terrible things he did to me. I always hoped, somewhere deep down inside, that I mattered to him. That, despite everything, there was something real between us. That he cared about me. That he was sorry for what he did.

I know now, I know for sure, that I was wrong. He’s never going to apologize to me, or acknowledge what he did. And so there’s no reason for me to stay.

My heart is pounding in my chest as I reach the ferry dock. I’m panting too hard to talk, so when I get to the ticket window, I stand a bit off to the side to give myself a chance to catch my breath. I watch from the shore as one boat docks and lets its passengers on. A woman behind me takes my place in line. She tries to buy a ticket, but the four p.m. ride is sold out. The earliest she can get on is the six p.m.

It gets darker. More people line up to buy tickets, but I don’t make a move. I stand and watch and wait. I want to go back in line and buy my ticket. I want to so badly. Everything inside me is screaming Go, go, go, go. But I can’t. Something’s holding me back. Something’s keeping me here.

What is happening to me?

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

KAT

THE SKY IS BLACK. I ’VE GOT THE TOP DOWN ON DAD’S convertible, and the clock on the dashboard reads a quarter to two in the morning.

I check my cell phone one last time before chucking it into the backseat. No calls, no texts. Nothing. She’s not coming.

Why am I such an idiot?

I should have kept this whole revenge idea to myself. Revenge is supposed to be a solitary thing. I think I heard that somewhere. And I don’t know what help I thought Lillia could give me. Her mind can’t go to the dark places mine does. She’s way too pure for that. And even with whatever’s going on between Lillia and Rennie, there’s no way Lillia would ever betray her. Actually, knowing Lillia, she’s probably reading my text out loud and Rennie’s laughing her ass off. I got too excited, and now look. I’m going to be done before I even get started.

Screw this. I’m just gonna go home and work on my early decision app to Oberlin. That’s the only thing that will get me through this year—the thought of finally getting off this island for good.

I pull into the ferry parking lot to turn around. The lights are off, the place is cleared out, except for one girl sitting on the curb. She’s got her elbows on her knees, her head in her hands, and her blond hair over one shoulder.

I think about cruising right past her, but something makes me slow down. As I get close, I see that it’s the girl from the bathroom.

“Bathroom girl,” I say, pulling to a stop.

“My name’s Mary,” she says. She’s chewing on a piece of hair.

“I know,” I lie. “I was being funny.” I shake my head and start over. “What the hell are you doing out so late?”

Her eyes are wide and frantic. “I have to get off the island.”

“Well, you know it’s almost two in the morning, right? There’s not going to be another ferry until tomorrow. You missed the last one by, like, three hours.”

Mary doesn’t say anything. She just stares off toward the piers. You can hardly tell water from the sky. Everything’s black. “I think I’m losing my mind.”

She says it, and honestly, I believe her. This girl is totally weird. But I should get down to the yacht club. On the minuscule chance that Lillia does show up, I need to be there. “Do you want a ride home or something?” I ask Mary, hoping her answer is no.

“I’m just going to wait. Maybe I’ll get up the guts to leave by the morning.”

“You’re going to sit here all night?”

“It’s only a few more hours. And then I never have to see this place again.”

“Where’s all your stuff? Didn’t you move here with anything?”

“I—I’ll get it some other time.”

This is crazy. Girlfriend is full-on freaking out. “Is this about Reeve?”

Mary lowers her eyes. “It’s always been about Reeve.”

I’m about to say, Eff him—but before I can, I see Lillia’s silver Audi fly down the road and take the first right into the yacht club parking lot. I can’t believe it. She showed. She actually showed.

“Get in,” I tell Mary, because I might be a bitch, but I’m not going to leave her here alone in the dark.

“I—”

“Hurry up!”

For a second Mary looks like she’s going to argue with me. If she does, I’m out of here. I don’t have time to baby her ass. Lillia might not even get out of the car if she doesn’t see me there. Mary hesitates, and then she tries to open the door, but it’s stuck. “It’s locked.”

“Let go of the handle,” I say, and push the unlock button, but when Mary tries the door, it still won’t open. God. “Just hop in, all right!”

“Who are you chasing?” she asks as I gun it to close the distance between us and Lillia’s taillights.

I don’t answer her. I just drive.

When we get into the parking lot, Lillia’s standing by her car. She’s got on a tight hooded sweatshirt, rolled-up pajama shorts with pink and red hearts on them, and flip-flops. Her hair is pulled up into a long ponytail. I think, from the way the moon hits it, that it’s wet. She must have just taken her bath. That’s a weird thing about Lillia. She always took a bath every night like a kid. I guess some things don’t change.