6. Kira

6KIRA

Elody Hart means business. We may be miles from civilization, but an hour after dinner, we’re partying at the pool like we want the entire mainland to hear. And by we, I mean … not me, exactly. Bass thuds from the speakers someone found downstairs, laughter and shouts rising and falling like waves, and I’m in the pool, swimming slow laps just to feel busy. I’m not hiding in my room, though, so for all intents and purposes, my plan to get out of my comfort zone is off to an excellent start.

Something big and loud crashes into the pool behind me, sending up a wave that soaks my hair and sprays my shoulders.

Cole splashes to the surface, whooping.

“Ugh!” McKayleigh scowls from her lounge chair, wrapping her towel over her retro-style bikini—I’m guessing a Bless by Kaylz original. “You got me all wet.”

“Broooo!” Cole gives a drunken snort. “That’s what she said.”

He takes a swig from one of the giant bottles taped to his hands, the dumb Edward Fortyhands thing people at my school do at parties. The bottles are probably filled with pool water, thanks to the plunge, but Cole doesn’t seem to care. Anyway, he’s probably ingested worse.

McKayleigh wrings out her barely wet hair, glaring at him. “You’re lucky I have wine.”

“Aren’t we all.” Graham is draped on his own lounge chair, rocking sunglasses and his beanie, even though it’s still warm and the only light is coming from the house.

Cole cracks up, paddling away.

I pause in the shallow end and look over to the other side of the terrace, where Elody’s trying to make Max dance with her. Aaron bobs awkwardly a few feet away, looking like my dad when he chaperones school dances. Max is clearly uncomfortable, but that doesn’t make me feel better, or anything, because I definitely don’t have a quickly developing crush on Max Overby.

“You can go talk to him, girl.”

I spin around to find McKayleigh smirking at me.

“I see you looking,” she says, eyeing Max.

“What? Who? I’m not—”

McKayleigh nudges Zane, who’s in the chair to her right, chin tipped to the sky like he’s meditating.

“Isn’t she the cutest? Kira was always so shy.”

Yeah, I want to tell her. Because you made me afraid to speak up.

“You’re being condescending again,” Zane says, eyes still closed. “Kira, is she being condescending?”

Before I can open my mouth, McKayleigh keeps talking.

“No, Kira knows I love her. Right, girl? Wait, oh my gosh.” McKayleigh sits forward. “I totally forgot. I’ve been meaning to ask you. Corinne, too.”

From her lounge chair—two away from the nearest Bounce House member—Corinne looks up from the book she’s reading with a wary expression. “Yeah?”

“So, Bless by Kaylz has been looking for brand ambassadors, and I just think y’all would be perfect. I brought some samples with me, and if y’all wouldn’t mind maybe wearing a few on camera—”

“Thanks,” Corinne says sharply, looking back at her book. “But I’m good. Wouldn’t want to let my violent video games corrupt the youths and your brand.”

McKayleigh gives a fake laugh. “Stop, you’re so funny. But come on. I bet once I show you the samples—”

“Look, it’s nothing personal.” Corinne stands and tucks her book under her arm, clearly over this disruption to her reading. “You got me at a bad time. I just bought a lifetime supply of floppy sun hats.”

She gives McKayleigh a bless your heart smile to rival her own before making a completely badass exit to the house. I fight a grin. Even in the dark, I can tell McKayleigh’s face is three shades redder with indignation.

Taking a sharp breath, she tosses her hair and sets her sights back on me, making my smile drop.

“Well, I don’t know what her problem is, but I’m serious about you. You’d look killer in our swimsuits, Kir.”

I flinch at the nickname, which I’ve always hated—the way it shapes her mouth into a sneer.

Before I realize what’s happening, McKayleigh turns to the terrace and shouts, “Hey, Max! Don’t you think Kira would look hot in a bikini like this?”

She stands and models for him, holding her wineglass high. Max’s eyes meet mine, his mouth opening like he isn’t sure how to respond. I don’t wait to hear it. Face burning, I climb out of the pool and snatch my towel.

“Aw, wait,” McKayleigh croons after me. “You’ve got to stop being so shy, Kir! Be proud of what the good Lord gave ya!”

She laughs, tipping her glass to her pouty lips. I wrap the towel tightly around me and march to the house, angry tears pricking my eyes.

My problem isn’t that I’m not proud of what the good Lord gave me. I’ve worked hard to build confidence in who I am, both inside and out. What I didn’t count on, what’s making me so mad, is that a few hours with McKayleigh Hill are turning me back into the little girl who used to cry whenever she watched herself on TV and found even one imperfection—a missed triple pirouette, a smile that didn’t seem quite convincing enough—until dancing started to feel less like breathing and more like a test she’d never pass.

“Can you stop staring?” McKayleigh’s hushed voice stops me in my tracks.

For half a heart-pounding second, I think she’s talking about me, but when I glance over my shoulder, I realize she’s talking to Zane. They’re both looking out into the dark, past the terrace and down toward the beach, where the moon shimmers on the water.

Straining through the shadows, I see someone on the sand, a slim, tall figure in a hoodie. Logan. She’s walking along the water, following the curve of the island to the other side of the house.

“Why is she here?” Zane asks, an anxious edge to his voice that feels out of character.

“Why do you care?” McKayleigh leans back in her lounge chair, crossing one pedicured foot over the other. “She’s not our problem anymore.”

Graham looks over his shoulder, noticing me, and I speed back to the house.

In the kitchen, the mess from Logan’s plate is gone, but I still get a shivering feeling. Because for the first time, I wonder if I was looking at this all wrong, the island and the solitude. Maybe it’s not freedom. Maybe we’re just trapped.

Okay. Calm down, Kira. I press the heels of my hands to my eyes, breathing until the tears stop threatening to fall. I’m not about to let McKayleigh make me cry, and I’m not going to let myself fall into an anxious spiral. Everything’s fine: Tilly left us a phone, and the crew will be here tomorrow. We’re safe. And whatever’s going on with Logan and the Bounce House, it’s really none of my business.

I’m halfway to the stairs when I hear the front door open behind me.

“Hey.” Max walks inside, that crooked smile on his face.

I forget my name and birthday and also a little bit how to breathe.

“Hey.” Right. Speaking. That’s a normal thing to do.

Max looks over his shoulder, shifting his camera bag. “Sorry, I’m kind of recalibrating. There’s … a lot happening out there.”

“Yeah.” I glance out one of the big windows to the terrace, where Cole is currently taking a shot of Elody’s bikini top. “A lot is … an understatement.”

Max sees where I’m looking and laughs. “Oh god.”

“Looks like you’ve been replaced, camera dude.”

Max runs a hand through his messy hair, blushing slightly, and it feels kind of nice to turn the tables after he so rudely made me forget my basic motor skills.

“You know, fitness girl, I think I’ll survive.” Another smile twitches on his lips. “Okay, so I could make up another excuse for why I came in here, but really, I just wanted to talk to you.”

“Oh.” I tighten my towel around my quickening heartbeat. So much for turning the tables. “About what?”

He cringes. “Sorry, that sounded ominous. I just mean—and totally stop me if this is overstepping, but—”

“This is you being not ominous?”

Max laughs, sitting on the couch. “Fair.”

I sit next to him.

“Look,” he says, “McKayleigh has been kind of a jerk to you all day, and I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

That was definitely not what I was expecting. And it definitely shouldn’t be setting off a swarm of butterflies in my stomach.

I look down at my hands, my pool-pruned fingers. “Thanks. I’m really fine, though. I’ve learned how to tune her out.” I meet his stare, intense and blue behind his frames, and my resolve starts to melt, morphing into frustration. “It’s just … I really thought she would have changed. Or I would have changed. But maybe we don’t, really. Maybe we’re all just our middle-school selves, only taller and with better skin.”

“Or worse vision, in my case,” Max jokes.

I smile a little. “And not all that much taller in mine.”

He laughs, prompting a return of the butterflies and a reminder that I am totally, 100 percent screwed.

A loud squeal interrupts my internal spiral, and I look out the window to watch as Zane and Graham grab McKayleigh by the arms and legs, swing her back and forth, and then toss her into the pool. She crashes up with a joyful shout, splashing water their way as they dodge it, whooping. It makes me uneasy, how quickly they went from their hushed, anxious conversation to their usual antics.

“There’s something off with them, isn’t there?”

Right away, I wonder if I shouldn’t have said it, but Max nods quickly.

“No, I’m glad you see it, too,” he says. “They’ve been…”

“Weird,” I finish.

“Yeah.” He glances out the window and then back to me. “Do you have any idea what’s going on there?”

“I don’t know. Just now…”

I pause, wondering if I should tell him. But there’s something about the way he’s looking at me, like he really needs to know. And you know what? I don’t owe McKayleigh anything.

“Just now, I overheard them having this intense conversation about Logan. McKayleigh said she wasn’t ‘their problem anymore.’”

“What does that mean?” he asks.

“I don’t know, I—” I stop short, because Max’s hand is in his pocket, his long fingers closing around a shape. I catch a glimpse of something shiny and black, and then I realize. “Max, are you recording this right now?”

“What? No, I…” He deflates, taking out his recording device. It’s small and rectangular, barely bigger than a lighter. “I never would have used the audio anywhere without your permission, I swear.”

Of course. Max doesn’t care about how I feel. He cares about getting whatever story he thinks I have.

I stand up. “I’m going to go shower.”

“Wait, Kira. I—”

A scream cuts him off. We both freeze, my heart climbing into my throat. That definitely wasn’t McKayleigh squealing again from the pool. It was someone else. Someone terrified.

I move toward the back patio, where the sound came from, and as soon as I slide the door open, there’s Logan running up from the beach. She’s breathing hard, her skin sickly white.

An icy feeling floods my veins.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

She sucks in a breath.

“A body,” she says. “I saw a body.”