Ander reached down to select another stone. He picked a good one, brushed it off, and handed it to her. “You want to try?”
She took the stone from his hand. She knew how to skip. Dad had taught her. He was good at it, far better than she was. Skipping stones was a way of passing time in the South, a means of marking time’s absence. To be good at it, you needed to practice, but you also needed to develop the skill to identify the good stones lying on the bank. You had to be strong to do it well, but you also needed grace, a lightness of touch. She’d never seen a fluke like the one Ander just skipped. It annoyed her. She flung the stone toward the water without bothering to aim.
The stone didn’t make it past the nearest branch of the oak tree. It ricocheted off a limb and rolled on its side in an arc, stopping near her toe. Ander rose, picked up the stone. His fingers grazed her shoe.
Again he made the stone dance across the pond, picking up speed, sailing absurd lengths between each skip. It landed beside the first stone on the other side of the pond.
A thought occurred to Eureka. “Did Maya Cayce hire you to tell me to back off of Brooks?”
“Who’s Maya Cayce?” Ander asked. “The name sounds familiar.”
“Maybe I’ll introduce you. You could discuss stalking techniques—”
“I’m not stalking you.” Ander cut her off, but his tone was unconvincing. “I’m observing you. There’s a difference.”
“Did you just hear yourself?”
“You need help, Eureka.”
Her cheeks reddened. Despite what her mountain of past therapists suggested, Eureka hadn’t needed help from anyone since her parents divorced years ago. “Who do you think you are?”
“Brooks has changed,” Ander said. “He’s not your friend anymore.”
“And when did this metamorphosis occur, pray tell?”
Ander’s eyes brimmed with emotion. He looked reluctant to say the words. “Last Saturday when you went to the beach.”
Eureka opened her mouth but was speechless. This guy had been spying on her even more than she knew. Goose bumps rose on her arms. She watched an alligator raise its flat green head in the water. She was used to gators, of course, but you never knew when even the laziest-looking one might snap.
“Why do you think you got in a fight that evening? Why do you think he blew up after you kissed? Would the Brooks you know—would your best friend have done that?” Ander’s words came out in rushes, as if he knew if he paused she would shut him up.
“That’s enough, creep.” Eureka stood up. She had to get out of here, somehow.
“Why else wouldn’t Brooks apologize for days after your fight? What took him so long? Is that the way a friend behaves?”
At the edge of the canopy of branches, Eureka balled her fists. It gave her a sleazy sensation to imagine what Ander would have had to do in order to know these things. She’d bar her windows, get a restraining order. She wished she could push him through these branches and into that alligator’s jaws.
And yet.
What had taken Brooks so long to apologize? Why was he still acting strange since they’d made up?
She turned around, still wanting to feed Ander to the alligator. But seeing him now, her mind was at odds with her body. She couldn’t deny it. She wanted to run away—and run to him. She wanted to throw him to the ground—and fall on top of him. She wanted to call the police—and for Ander to know more things about her. She wanted never to see him again. If she never saw him again, he couldn’t hurt her, and her desire would disappear.
“Eureka,” Ander said quietly. Reluctantly she turned her good ear toward him. “Brooks will hurt you. And he isn’t the only one.”
“Oh yeah? Who else is in on this? His mother, Aileen?”