Lillia hesitates, so I push it into her hand. “Think of it as a trophy,” I tell her. “You earned it.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

MARY

I HAVE NO SENSE OF TIME, BUT IT HAS TO BE HOURS NOW that I’ve been in the dark. I’m lying on top of my bed with my eyes wide open, in my pj shorts and a camisole. Although I’m tired, and it feels like years since I had a good night’s rest, I can’t bring myself to fall sleep. It’s like I’ve forgotten how.

So I think about my mom and dad, why Kat wears all that eye makeup when she has such pretty eyes, what Lillia puts in her hair to make it so shiny, on to Friday’s geometry test, and last what to wear to school tomorrow. I think about everything and anything to keep Reeve out of my head. But it never works. It’s as if he’s in here with me, in this room, haunting me.

I roll onto my back and stare through the dark at the beams in the ceiling. I should ask Aunt Bette if she knows a special candle or some sage or incense I could burn to get rid of this negative energy. Aunt Bette’s into that New Agey stuff—smudging, tarot cards, crystals. Mom thinks it’s silly, but she still wears the moonstone ring Aunt Bette bought for her fortieth birthday. Moonstone is supposed to bring positivity and healing to your life. I could probably use some of that, too.

But I know I can’t do it. I can’t ask Aunt Bette to help me, because then we’d have to talk about what happened all those years ago. Neither of us want to do that. Her just as much as me.

Something pings my bedroom window and interrupts the quiet. I lift my head off the pillow and watch the glass without breathing. It happens again, this time while I’m looking. A pebble bounces off the pane.

I get up and walk nervously to the window, peeking just past the sheer white curtains. Lillia and Kat wave at me from down on the ground.

With a big sigh of relief, I step out from my hiding spot, smile, and wave back.

“Come out and play, Mary!” Lillia calls up.

And then I hear Aunt Bette’s bedroom door creak open from down the hall. I quickly hold up one finger to the girls, jump back onto my bed, and pretend to be asleep.

I open my eyes a teensy bit and watch as Aunt Bette pushes my door open with her bare foot and looks around my room. She’s in her nightgown, and her long thick hair is wild and puffy.

She tiptoes past my bed and over to the window. Hopefully, Lillia and Kat have ducked out of sight. I’d rather they didn’t meet Aunt Bette like this. I’d rather she had a chance to at least comb her hair and put lipstick on. Plus, it’s a school night. Aunt Bette’s been really cool, but I don’t want to press my luck.

Aunt Bette stares out my window; her hot breath makes a tiny cloud on the glass. Then she gently pulls my curtains closed and goes back to her room.

I know I should wait a while for Aunt Bette to fall back asleep, but I don’t want Kat and Lillia to leave. So after a minute or two, I grab a sweater and creep down the stairs, as quiet as a mouse.

Kat and Lillia are sitting underneath our huge pine tree in the backyard. Both of them have their backs up against the trunk. Kat’s legs are outstretched; Lillia’s hugging her knees to her chest.

“Hey,” I say. “Sorry that took so long. My aunt . . .”

Lillia yawns. “Was that her up there? She looks . . . kind of witchy.” Kat clicks her tongue, and Lillia quickly adds, “Sorry.”

It makes me sad to hear Lillia say that, but I know she’s right. I sink down to the ground. Aunt Bette is my favorite aunt for sure, but she’s had problems with depression for forever, according to my mom. I don’t quite understand why, because Aunt Bette has had the kind of life I’ve read about in books. She’s traveled the world, selling paintings and meeting all sorts of interesting people. She was beautiful once, and she knew how to play every single card game you could think of. But when the dark times would come, she became a whole other person. She could barely get out of bed some days. It’s why she once came to live with us here in the house for a whole summer.

“My mom says that when they were in high school, Aunt Bette could get any boy on the beach to buy them ice cream. They never had to bring change with them.” I thread some of my hair behind my ears.

Kat tucks a cigarette between her lips. “No kidding,” she says, and the words make the flame of her lighter dance.

And then there’s a long, somewhat awkward pause.

Lillia clasps her fingers together and puts on a big smile. “So, Kat and I came up with a way to get revenge on Rennie at homecoming.”

“Oh! That’s great,” I say, and then force a swallow. “Is she, like, dating Reeve? I heard some girls talking about that at the football game.”

Lillia shakes her head. “No. I mean, she definitely has Reeve in her crosshairs, but I don’t know if he sees her that way.”

“Oh,” I say, sitting up straighter. “I was just curious.”

Kat leans in and says, “All right, back to business. Homecoming ballots are passed out the week of the dance. Everyone votes, and then the ballots are put in the locked box they use for student council elections, which is pretty effing ridiculous, if you ask me. What we’re gonna do is break into that box and change enough ballots so that Rennie loses homecoming queen.” She cackles. “It will be the greatest disappointment of her sad little life.”

Lillia puts her hands on her cheeks and says, “I can’t wait to see her face!”

“And then Lillia wins, right?” I say.

“No!” Lillia says, shaking her head. “I don’t want to win.”

“Why not?” Kat says, surprised. “Rennie will freaking short-circuit with jealousy.”

Lillia bites her lip. “I think it’ll be even worse if someone else takes her crown. Someone she would never think could beat her. Like Ashlin.”

“Oh, yeah! Ashlin. My replacement. I always forget about her. Does she even have a personality?” Kat asks.

“She’s a nice girl,” Lillia says, glaring at Kat. “And she’ll be happy to win.”

Kat shrugs, and takes a drag off her cigarette. “Fine, whatever. But we still need a plan to get Reeve.” She blows out the smoke in a long, thin line. “Did you have any ideas, Mary?”

I shake my head.

“Okay,” Lillia says patiently. “Well, what do you want to have happen to him? Let’s start there.”

I chew on my nail and think. All the anger I’ve got starts to bloom up inside me. This is part of the reason I try not to think about Reeve, if possible. It’s a Pandora’s box. I’m afraid to open myself up and relive exactly what happened. But maybe that’s the only way I’ll know what kind of revenge will make me feel like justice was served.