Gordie and I shared a frozen pizza on the porch with Mr. Ng and Dad before he left, still exhausted from the night before.
I lay on my bed, flushed and nervous. I didn’t even want to think about what I would do if the diamonds were real. I thought instead about our night at Speakeasy and how much fun it had been.
I dialed Shay’s number.
“Hey, Sadie.”
“Guess what random person I just ate a frozen pizza with on the porch with Dad and Mr. Ng?”
“I don’t know. Pooch? Gordie Harris?”
“Actually, yes. Gordie Harris.”
“I saw the pictures. Looks like fun.” Shay was using her fake voice.
“Are you okay, Shay?” I knew she hated it when I asked her if she was okay.
“Yeah. I’m fine. I’m just working a lot. I’m tired.” Her tone was giving me anxiety.
“Do you just want to talk later?”
“Yeah. I still have to do a bunk check.”
“Night, Shay-Shay.”
“Night, Sadie.”
I stared up at Shay’s origami cranes and wondered what I had done to piss off my best friend.
ELEVEN
THE UNLIKELIES DELIVERED care packages to troll mill victims three nights in a row. My heart ached a little every time I read through the list of recipients:
Jackson R. (tortured for bad hygiene and weirdness)
Mary Michele (harassed for being overweight and sneaking food during class)
Erik (bullied for being from Sweden)
Annabella F. (slut-shamed after she slept with two guys on the same team)
Jamie (tormented for being thin and pretty)
We stuck handmade cards into tiny gift bags with candy necklaces and tied the bags with curly ribbon. Val had the best handwriting, so she was the message-writer. We’re bringing down the trolls. You’re one of us now. —The Unlikelies.
Val got a text from Javi just as we were finishing the care packages. They were back to being in love.
“Javi’s friend Mike likes you, Sadie.”
“The guy you were with when you stopped for strawberries?”
“Yeah. He thought you were cute.”
“Why didn’t he get out of the car?” I said.
“He’s shy.”
“Tell him I’m not over Seth.”
“You are so over Seth.”
“I’m not into guys with longer bangs than mine.”
“One date. Mike will pay for your dinner. He’s a gentleman that way.”
“I can get free food at home.”
“So do it for me.”
Pause. Sigh. “Okay, Val. I’ll do it for you.”
We loaded the care packages in the cars and fanned out across the East End with lists of addresses and revolutionary music playlists. The Beatles. Dylan. Taylor Swift.
“Haters gonna hate, hate, hate, hate, hate,” Val belted out.
I delivered the candy necklaces in my poncho and baseball hat. I darted up to front porches, ran to mailboxes, dodged stressed-out dogs and a couple of dads peering through the curtains. But every mission was successful.
At the end of the third night, we sat with our feet in Gordie’s pool while Gordie blasted the slam pages with anti-troll GIFs. He found a picture of a troll and superimposed candy necklaces dangling all over it. Under it, he just wrote:
Choose kindness. —The Unlikelies.
“We need a mascot,” Jean said.
“Oh my God, we so need a mascot,” Alice said.
We spent the next hour arguing over the mascot. Alice wanted us to pick our favorite animals and then somehow merge all five animals into one. Val wanted to stick with the happy-faced troll wearing candy necklaces. Jean wanted something badass. I didn’t care. I just wanted us to agree on something.
“We’ll table this,” Gordie said. “A good mascot doesn’t happen in a day.”
We ended up sitting in a circle on the pool deck, playing Val’s “first and last” game.
Alice: “First time your heart broke.”
Jean: “When my dad died.”
Gordie: “Last time you kissed someone.”
Me: “I’ve never kissed anyone.”
Gordie: “Very funny.”
Me: “It was Seth. But I have no idea the last time we kissed.”
Val: “First pet.”
Alice: “Twin kittens named Alice Jr. and Cattie.”
Alice: “Last really good meal.”
Gordie: “Sushi in New York on the last day of school.”
Jean: “Last time you felt really happy.”
Val: “Right now.”
And then, because of the adrenaline and the extra gift bags burning a hole in the backseat, we went out again. We dropped off more bags, hitting Greg O.’s house last.
“See you tomorrow,” Val said afterward with a big grin.
“Uh. Great. Yeah. Can’t wait,” I said sarcastically.
“Can’t wait for what?” Gordie called out from the car.
“Javi’s friend Mike likes Sadie. We’re going on a double date.”
“Have fun with that,” Gordie said.
“Oh, I will,” I said.
The next morning, the morning of the dreaded date, I was sifting through cherries out back at the farm stand when Daniela brought me my phone. “It’s driving me crazy,” she said.
I had a bunch of texts from Gordie. They all said the same thing.
Just left my grandmother’s “friend.” They’re real.
An hour later Gordie and I were sitting hip to hip on my willow tree crate, brainstorming how to deal with the buttload of real diamonds that were stuffed in my closet behind my prom dress and my old field hockey sticks.
“If this one diamond was worth over seven thousand dollars, how the hell much are we talking here?” I said, holding the stone between my thumb and finger.
“A lot.”
Maybe a normal person would have gotten excited about all those diamonds, about the possibility of poaching a few for a trip to California or a new phone or a cute outfit. But all I could think was, Why me?
“Let’s just tell the others,” I said. “I need help figuring this out.”
We decided we’d tell them after my date.
I spent the entire day at work trying to process the fact that Mr. Upton was not deranged. He knew perfectly well that he had stashed a fortune in Raggedy Andy’s legs. He knew he was dying. And for some reason, he believed I was the one who could redeem his father’s evil deeds. The problem was I had no idea where to even begin.
Mom called just when I was leaving to go home and shower before Val picked me up for the date.
“Hey, Mom. I’m driving.”
“Where are you?”
“Bridgehampton.”
“I need you to come home. The victim advocate is calling in a half hour.”
I pulled into a parking lot. “Does it have to be today?”
“Yes. And she wants me with you when she calls.”
Even cutting through all the back roads, I got stuck in traffic. When I got home, Mom was on the porch frantically waving me toward the phone in her hand.