I said to Amy, “We should just get out of here.”
We both stood and started gathering our things. I was wearing a new black tankini—which Ryan loved—and I was feeling pretty good until I overheard Shauna say, “She still doesn’t have any boobs. Poor Ryan!”
Cathy started laughing and said, “Maybe she’s saving up for a boob job!”
I glanced over, ready to tell them off, but was distracted when I saw Cathy pouring a wine cooler into her plastic cup. Now I realized that all of the girls had the plastic cups, in bright colors, straws poking out from the top. Nicole’s face also had a telltale shine and she fumbled as she reached for her suntan lotion.
I turned to Amy. “Screw them—they’re all drunk. Let’s stay for a bit.”
“You sure?” She glanced over at the girls, looking freaked out—which made me angrier. Why should we be so damn scared of them?
“Yeah, I’m not running away from her.” Truth is, I kind of wanted to keep an eye on Nicole. I didn’t like that she was drunk like that, especially out in public. And it was only noon. When had they started drinking?
We sat back down. A couple of times I went to the water for a swim, but it took all my strength to walk with confidence, hearing the whispers and giggles from where the girls were sitting. I noticed that Nicole was quiet, though, almost seemed depressed. She’d laugh, but it sounded fake, and a couple of times I saw Cathy and Shauna roll their eyes at her. Were they starting to pick on her?
I went for another swim, and when I got back to my towel, Amy’s face was tense. “I want to leave. They’re saying awful stuff about us.”
“Okay.” I started gathering up my things, shaking out my towel. I was tired of them glaring at me anyway. We could just go to another beach. If Nicole did something stupid, that was her problem. But I still glanced over at her, checking to see if she was drunker, and noticed she was staring at the parking lot, her eyes narrowed like she was trying to see something better.
Shauna turned too. “Shit, what’s my dad doing here?”
Now I saw the black pickup parked slightly around the corner.
Nicole was covering her drink. “Should we hide the—”
“I’ll handle this.” Shauna left her drink out in the open and said to Nicole and Cathy, “Stay here and don’t say a word.”
She walked to the parking lot, spoke to her dad through the window for a moment. He drove off and she walked back to the girls.
“He was just seeing if we wanted a ride home, but I told him we’re okay.” She noticed me watching. “What are you staring at?”
She was so confident, so sure that she could get away with whatever she wanted. She wasn’t even worried that her dad had almost caught them drinking. What else were they getting away with? What else were they getting Nicole into?
I turned back around, but not before I caught Nicole’s eye. She looked down at her drink and took a long swallow.
*
A couple of weeks later, near the middle of August, Nicole started acting weird at home. She spent hours in her bedroom listening to music and only left the house when Mom and Dad dragged her out. When Mom called her down for dinner, she’d say she wasn’t hungry. During the day she just lay on the couch watching TV, flipping through the channels. Some days she didn’t even shower.
“Why aren’t you going to Shauna’s anymore?” I asked her one day when she was on the couch again. I was hoping they’d had a fight. I’d seen a car like Shauna’s drive by one night, turn around, then drive by again.
“She’s away with her family.” Guess it wasn’t Shauna. It had been a white car, though, I was sure of that. Maybe that guy she was seeing?
“What about Cathy and the other girls?”
“They’re all busy. They’ve got jobs and stuff.”
“So what’s wrong with you? You’ve been moping around.”
“I’m just bored.” But she looked like she might cry.
“Did you break up with that guy?”
She threw down the remote. “Why can’t you just mind your own business?” Then she ran up to her room, slamming the door behind her.
The next night when I came home after work, Mom was waiting up, sitting at the kitchen table. Dad was sitting beside her. Their faces were serious.
“What’s going on?” I said.
“The Percocet from when your father had his surgery is missing from our medicine cabinet,” Mom said, her voice cold and hard. “There was nearly a full bottle left.” I remembered that Dad had been given painkillers after his shoulder surgery last year but hadn’t thought about them since. I didn’t even know he had some left.
Now I was pissed. “Are you accusing me of stealing it?”
“It didn’t walk out of the house on its own.”
“I don’t do drugs like that, Mom.”
“We know you smoke pot.”
“So what? Most people on the island smoke weed.” And I could use some right now.