Maybe I wanted to kill her. Maybe I needed her to die.
Brynna pressed her fingers to her forehead as if she could pull out the errant thoughts. They ached behind her eyes.
“I didn’t mean to,” she mumbled out loud. “Erica, I swear, I didn’t mean to.” For fourteen months, Brynna prayed that Erica knew that. But here, in her new house and new life in Crescent City, she found herself wondering if someone else had heard.
Someone had left the sand—and the purple crepe paper—for her to find. Someone didn’t just want Brynna to know that they were there that night. They didn’t just want Brynna to know that they blamed her. This person wanted her to pay.
Brynna’s mind spun as her blood pulsed.
Erica’s name flashed in her mind and just as quickly was washed out by the pounding of the black night surf. Erica’s hand was in hers, and Brynna was tugging.
“You are the biggest wimp!”
“Because I won’t jump off a pier? Lame.”
“You’re scared.”
“You’re stupid.”
“I’ll do it. I’ll even do the real dare.” Brynna yanked off her bikini top and waved the hot pink scrap of fabric over her head triumphantly. The kids on the beach—figures half-illuminated by the dying firelight—hooted and hollered. Someone laughed; someone jumped up and danced in the sand. Far away, the music swirled, mellow from this distance.
“Really?” Erica cocked an eyebrow and waved a thick lock of ink-black hair over her shoulder. “You’re brave because you’re standing on a public dock with your knockers out?”
Brynna threw her head back and laughed. Everything was funny and warm and coconut scented. It was Erica’s shampoo, caught on a wispy ocean breeze.
“You and your knockers are coming with me.” Brynna clamped a hand over Erica’s wrist, and Erica pulled back but laughed, collapsing onto the dock.
“Don’t put those things near me!”
“Jump,” Brynna chanted. “With me. It’ll be, like, our yearly ritual. The two of us against the world.”
Erica was sitting back on her haunches. She cocked her head, considering. “The two of us?”
“Together. For life.” Brynna spun.
“Until death do us part?”
Brynna laughed. “We’re not getting married, dork.”
Erica tossed her head back so that her long hair pooled on the dock. “You and me, forever and ever, right?”
“Sirens of the surf.” She held out her hand.
Erica stood and slid her hand into Brynna’s. “Promise me.”
The stars blurred before Brynna’s eyes. The punch she had drunk—something fruity laced with something fierce that burned its way down her throat—was making her whole body warm. “Promise what?”
“That you’ll never leave me alone.”
Brynna was breathing hard, her eyes itchy and dry. She couldn’t remember if she ever answered Erica’s question.
SEVEN
Brynna padded down the stairs when her mother called her for dinner. Both her parents were already seated, and Brynna could see her bag, moved to one of the barstools. Her parents had clearly gone through it.
They said nothing to her when she sat; her mother just scooped a spoonful of whatever takeout she had gotten and plopped it onto Brynna’s plate. Brynna was going to say something. She was going to wait for an apology, an admission that the only things they found in Brynna’s bag were her books, her binder, and a couple of errant highlighters. But no one said anything.
Each day after the wardens at Woodbriar did their methodical check of Brynna’s bags, her pockets, and her room and came up empty—or “clean” as they called it—they left without saying a word too.
Brynna stiffened and poked at the food on her plate.
After dinner, she was back in her room attempting to study. The new house was just a little bit bigger than the house in Point Lobos, but everything about the Blackwood house was brand new—new carpet, new appliances, even new landscaping that was perfectly watered and well maintained. The house should have been cheerful with its soaring high ceilings and model-home furniture, but it still gave Brynna the creeps. There were only a few families living in the neighborhood, and the “For Sale” and “See Me!” flags on the houses across the street snapped in the fall wind. During the day, the houses were occupied with families carrying brochures and hopeful-looking children. At night, the houses were unmistakably vacant, the windows gaping and black. Brynna squinted as a pair of headlights washed yellow light over her room and then watched out the window as the red taillights of the car traveled up her street, only to disappear around a corner. There was no one outside, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was out there, lurking in the dark, watching her. She yanked the blinds closed, but the feeling didn’t go away.
She went back to her history book, but her mind kept wandering until she smacked it shut and peeked out the window once more.
No one there.