*
They carry cases of cheap beer and bottles of wine stolen from their parents’ cellars. Without permission, they construct a bonfire just outside the old greenhouse, and under Olivia’s command they take over the glassed-in structure, removing potted plants and replacing them with stacks and stacks of beer. Music begins to thump from inside, and as the sun begins to vanish past the horizon, a string of lights illuminates the interior—Christmas lights that someone brought and strung along the eaves. The bonfire sparks and grows larger as more and more people converge on the island.
We watch from Bo’s cottage, keeping our distance, wary of anyone who strays away from the party.
Luckily, Gigi’s cottage is tucked away on the north side of the island, the farthest structure from the main house and the dock and the greenhouse. Someone would have to go investigating to stumble across it. But from Bo’s cottage we can see everything. And as Olivia waves her arms in the air, instructing a group of boys where to place several logs, which were taken from he woodshed, around the bonfire, I can’t handle it anymore.
“What are you doing?” Bo asks when I open the cottage door.
“I have to talk to Olivia.”
Rose stands up. “I can’t stay in here anymore either. I’m going to check on Gigi.”
I want to tell her it’s better if she doesn’t, that she should keep her distance, not draw attention to Gigi’s cottage, but she and Heath are already out the door and hurrying up the path to Old Fisherman’s Cottage.
Bo eyes me, then follows me outside and up to the bonfire.
Olivia spots us as we approach, and she saunters over. “Bo,” she says in a singsong, reaching out to touch him, but I smack her hand away. She rubs it with her other hand and makes a pouty face. “Very protective, aren’t you, Penny?” she says. “And perhaps a little jealous, too.” She winks at Bo, like she’s trying to give me something to really be jealous of. But Bo’s gaze remains stiff and unwavering. He doesn’t find her amusing—not after what she did to him. In fact, he looks like he wants to murder her right here, in front of everyone.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Decorating,” she says with a flourish, sweeping an arm over her head. “I’ve always loved throwing parties—you know this.” I do know, but I don’t acknowledge it.
Behind her, Lola Arthurs and two of her friends are making cocktails in red plastic cups using a makeshift table constructed of plywood set on top of two empty flowerpots. They generously slosh vodka into each cup, followed by a splash of club soda. They’ve set up a full bar, and people are going to get drunk fast.
“Why here—why did you bring everyone to the island?” I ask her, making sure to stare through Olivia and down to Marguerite, her real eyes unblinking as they keep sliding over to settle on Bo. This is the last night, her last chance. But I won’t let her have him.
“It’s just a party,” she says with an air of superiority, her bright blue eyes shimmering like she is taunting fate to bring our secret crashing down around us. With so many people here, how will she slip into the sea unnoticed? How can she be sure Gigi won’t be discovered? “You used to love parties.” She winks then puckers her lips together, a sly, furtive gesture. She wants Bo to figure out the truth, she wants him to know what I really am. She won’t say it out loud, yet she’ll gladly sprinkle hints along the razor’s edge.
“This isn’t going to end well,” I whisper to Olivia, my eyes meeting hers, then penetrating deep to focus on the wispy mirage of my sister nestled down beneath Olivia’s skin.
“We’ll see,” she counters.
A wind slides over the surface of the island, seeming to push a new group of uninvited guests up the gentle slope to the greenhouse.
TWENTY
It was high tide when the party began. When beers were pounded and shots guzzled into warm bellies, when the music started at a medium volume and conversations were had without the occasional hiccup. But as the tide recedes, so does the party. People stumble over the bonfire, melting the rubber from the bottom of their shoes; girls spill their drinks between their cleavage; boys vomit in the beach grass down near the dock. And Olivia grins from her place at the entrance to the greenhouse, like a queen overseeing a gala held in her honor.
And as it nears ten o’clock, only two hours until midnight, decisions will have to be made. Sacrifices allotted. Like Cinderella, at the stroke of midnight all magic will be revoked. And these bodies we inhabit will have to be given back. Or maybe, if my plan works, I’ll keep this one for eternity. It’s never been done before. We’ve never attempted to stay in a body indefinitely—I’ll be the first to try. When the clock ticks past midnight, I won’t wade out into the sea; I will resist the urge, the beckoning call of the ocean. I will endure whatever pain rips through me; I will fight the transition. I will stay in this body.
And I will watch the sunrise as Penny Talbot.
Rose and Heath reappeared a few minutes after checking on Gigi. Now they stand next to Bo and me near the bonfire, Rose’s eyes always flashing across the island to the path that leads to Old Fisherman’s Cottage. She’s anxious, her fingers tapping against her thigh, afraid someone is going to find Gigi. And like the rest of us, she wishes everyone would just leave the island and go home.
But the party wears on. Boys are enticed down to the water’s edge by the girls, dared to enter the harbor one last time before midnight. At the Swan party several weeks earlier, it was the girls who were braving the waters, risking being stolen by a Swan sister. Now it’s the boys being persuaded to wade out into the sea, where they risk being drowned by a Swan sister looking for a final kill. It’s a game to them.
But I can feel the sway of the sea, the changing tide, the magnetic draw of the harbor. It wants me back; it wants all three of us back. I know my sisters feel it too. I press my fingers against my temples, trying to silence it, keep it at bay. But at times it pulls against me so fiercely I feel dizzy.
“It’s getting late,” Rose says beside me, worry lines cutting deep into the space between her eyes. The countdown to the end drawing near.
Gigi will need to be let out of the cottage by midnight if she’s going to sneak back into the sea. I will need to do it without Bo seeing, without anyone seeing.
And I will need to slip away, find somewhere to be alone, to fight the rising force of Penny, who will start to take back her body come midnight. I can’t go to the main house because Penny’s mom will hear my screams of pain. I had thought I could hide among the orchard rows, or perhaps the far rocky shore of the island where the crashing waves would conceal my cries. I will need to decide soon.