Her phone beeped, and when she checked the screen, there was a Google Alert for Tabitha Clark. A lot of Tabitha-related news she didn’t read—it was just too painful—but because she was nervous and wanted something to do with her hands, she stared at the screen.
The alert linked to a message board from the Tabitha Clark Memorial website. The site mostly consisted of pictures of Tabitha and her friends. A prom video showed Tabitha in a purple satin dress, her gold necklace glinting in the strobe light as she danced with her boyfriend, a cute boy with longish brown hair and clear green eyes, to a Christina Aguilera song. There were some mournful posts from friends and rants about how The Cliffs resort should be shut down. But the most recent post was what caught Emily’s eye: Tabitha’s dad should conduct an autopsy. I don’t think she died from too much drinking.
A chill gripped Emily. With all of the drama about her baby and Gayle, she’d lost focus on the other horrible thing A knew. She shut her eyes and saw the picture A had sent to Spencer’s phone of Tabitha’s body, twisted and broken on the sand after they’d shoved her off the roof.
“Emily! Over here!”
Isaac was sitting in a banquette in the corner, a plate of fried calamari in front of him. His hair was pushed back off his face, and he wore a blue T-shirt that brought out his sapphire eyes. “Hey!” he called, gesturing for her to come over.
Emily’s stomach swooped, and she shoved the phone back into her bag. Then she stared down at the green wool skirt she’d picked out from the back of her closet. Was she honestly going to tell Isaac the truth? All afternoon, instead of paying attention in English, Calculus, and Bio II, she’d rehearsed how she’d broach the subject. So, you know how we had sex that one time last year? Well, it had a, um, lasting effect.
Even worse, Isaac looked so happy right now, like he was overjoyed she’d shown up. This was going to kill him. But she had to say something. She owed it to him. She certainly didn’t want A telling him first.
Her hands shook as she wound around the busy tables and dodged a waitress with a tray of tiramisu. Isaac half-stood as Emily approached. “I ordered calamari. I hope that’s okay. You used to like it back when we . . . you know.” His words rushed out in a nervous jumble.
“I still love calamari.” Emily slid into the cushy leather seat.
Isaac touched her arm, then pulled away, perhaps worried it was too forward. “Are you still swimming?”
Emily nodded. “I got a scholarship to UNC for next year.”
“UNC?” Isaac beamed. “That’s awesome. Congratulations.”
“Thanks,” Emily said. “Have you figured out where you’re going to go yet?” She reached over and speared a piece of calamari from the plate. The batter was perfect, and the dipping sauce was thick and tangy.
Isaac shrugged. “I’d love to go to Juilliard, but I’ll probably end up at Hollis.”
“You never know. You’re talented enough for Juilliard.” Emily thought of Isaac’s band performances. His voice was rich and full, and he sounded a lot like the lead singer of Coldplay. Plenty of girls had swooned over him at his show; Emily had been astounded when he’d singled her out.
Isaac took a long sip of sparkling water. “Nah. I didn’t even apply. I was terrified to audition. I’d probably freak out on stage.”
“Since when do you freak out on stage?” Emily asked, surprised. “Have you changed that much since I’ve last seen you?”
“Tons.” Isaac cupped his chin in his hands and smiled at her.
“Well, maybe you have changed.” Emily pointed at the tattoo on his neck. “I don’t remember you being a tattoo kind of guy.”
Isaac glanced at it. “I got it when I turned eighteen. Everyone in the band was getting one, but they all chickened out at the last minute. I was the only one who went through with it.”
“Did it hurt?”
“Yeah. But I powered through.”
“Can I see it?”
“Sure.” Isaac pulled down the collar of his shirt even further, revealing a black pattern that looked like a giant abstract moth.
“Whoa!” Emily cried. “It’s huge!”
“Yeah.” Isaac pulled the collar back to cover it. “I wanted something significant.”
Emily wanted to touch the part that was still visible, but she stopped herself. Maybe that would give Isaac the wrong idea. “Does it mean something special?”
“Well, I’ve always been really into moths.” Isaac reached for another calamari. “Did you know they can see ultraviolet light? And they can smell their mates from up to seven miles away?”
“Seriously?” Emily made a face.
Isaac nodded. “I’ve always thought moths were really beautiful, but no one pays attention to them the way they do with butterflies. They’re sort of . . . forgotten.”
It was such an Isaac thing to say, sensitive and moony and a little goofy all at the same time. Emily had forgotten that about him. She’d forgotten how cute he was, too. An unexpected wave of longing came over her. Then a voice boomed inside her, ripping her back to reality. You had his baby. Tell him. She pressed the tines of her fork lightly into her palm.