Chapter 36

After it was determined thatI had sustained no major injuries, my parents decided to go out after all, as long as I promised to rest with ice on my head and allow my friends to make dinner and clean up. I thought it would probably be nice to be the guest for once.

Mila and I sit together on the hammock while Chase and Emily warm my mother's patented homemade grill-top pizzas with smoked salmon, red onions, and capers in the kitchen. Ryan picks at his guitar out by the fire pit as the sun begins to lower in the sky, Chelsea brings us gemonades, and we try to avoid the awkwardness between us as we learn a little more about Mila. It actually isn't that hard. It's weird how sickness and injury erase bad feelings, or at least suppress them. My grandmother was the biggest bitch. She cut my father out of her will because she didn't approve of my mom, and then suddenly she got really sick and everyone was devastated because all they could think about were the nice things she did in between emotionally manipulating everyone. P.S. She lied about cutting my father out of her will. One last trick from beyond the grave. Surprise! Here's the money with which I tried to extort you out of true love. These are my last words to you. Remember me fondly.

Chelsea hands us our drinks and hovers over us awkwardly. "One of us should probably go check on Emily."

I nod reluctantly. One of us just had a mirror smashed over our head. But sure. Check on super smash sister. "Go ahead. I'll be fine." She kisses my forehead gingerly, and I grit my teeth as pain radiates through my skull, and then she heads into the kitchen.

Mila eyes my head with a pitying look. "It just fell on you?"

"Pretty much."

She shudders. "That thing looked solid."

"It is." I take a sip of my drink. I know it's not the smartest idea to drink when I've taken a painkiller. But I can't get the image of the girl standing in front of the mirror, inches away from me, close enough to touch, out of my head. I take another sip, desperate to push her away. "So. You're from Islip?"

Mila's expression relaxes and she leans back, dangling one arm over the edge of the hammock lazily. "Not originally. Iowa first, but I was born in Zagreb."

I squint at her, geography class playing on hyperspeed in my head. "Croatia, right?"

"Yep. I don't remember it, though." She draws a heart on the condensation on the side of her glass. "Adopted as a baby. I don't remember too much of Iowa, either, because we moved to the city when I was four. My mom works there. We moved to Islip around fifth grade so I would have a wholesome suburban Long Island childhood."

"And?"

She grins. "And I corrupted them all."

I smile back. "As one must."

She takes another sip and shoots me a sidelong glance. "You realize we're sworn enemies."

I nearly choke on an ice cube. "Why do you say that?"

"Islip and Three Village," she says seriously. "Our sports teams are deadly rivals."

I let out a deep sigh of relief. I would feel so awful at this point if she knew how we'd looked at her when she first walked in the door. Like an intruder. The other woman. What kind of antiquated way of thinking is that anyway? It crosses the line from loyalty to something darker. I'm not sure the kind of loyalty Emily wants from us—or maybe sometimes demands—is right. Maybe loyalty isn't even the right word for it.

"There's no official cheer program for lacrosse," Mila continues animatedly. This is obviously a subject she cares about deeply. "But cheer is immersive, right? Why should one sport be prioritized over another? It's about spirit, not favoritism. So I went to the administration, I petitioned the board, I personally led the effort to expand the program to attend as many games as possible. Win-win, we increased school spirit, it doesn't look terrible on my college apps, and I met Chase."

"Smart. But of course you're just having fun." I study her for a reaction and she blushes.

"Sure. Because watching your boyfriend's ex throw herself at him is a fucking riot. You would know, right?"

I stare at her, taken aback. "I'm sorry."

She blinks. "No, no, I'm sorry. That was completely uncalled for. It's a reflex. Defense mechanism. For a second I thought… But you've been really nice." She offers a shaky smile, and I realize she's not completely oblivious to everything that's been going on this weekend. Of course she isn't. Anyone would have noticed Emily throwing herself at Chase. And probably Chelsea and I talking up Ryan. Although maybe—I desperately hope—we were more subtle than that.

"You're really cute together," I say. And I mean it. I really do.

"So are you and Chelsea," she echoes. But she's not smiling. And she's looking over my shoulder.

I turn around with a sinking feeling in my stomach, to see Chelsea sitting next to Ryan in the backyard. Their heads close together, whispering urgently, Ryan's body angled in toward hers in a way that makes me feel nauseous and dizzy that the pain in my head doesn't account for.

I feel anger gathering white-hot in the pit of my stomach, but before I can rise to my feet, there's a loud bang from behind me, and Mila and I whip our heads around in unison to see the cellar door smack against the wall and slam shut on the other side of the living room.

"Who did that?" Mila whispers.

I can hear Chase and Emily in the kitchen, talking and laughing over the sounds of clinking cutlery. Ryan and Chelsea are still outside. "The wind," I say.

But I'm not so sure. I've been making a lot of mistakes this weekend. I made a mistake once, a bad one, and the quiet ones punished me. I'm the only one who knows about them, so I'm the only one who knows the whole story. But everyone knows a fragment or two of what happened.

It was the Summer of Eagles, the first summer I was allowed to bring all of my friends to the lake house for a whole weekend. I wanted everything to be perfect, and I had planned a surprise. My mother had spoken to Mrs. Oglebie and arranged for us to adopt our class pet, Miss Palindrome, over the summer while our former teacher was studying overseas. My father had driven up a day early with Miss Palindrome, who would be waiting for us when we arrived. For once, I was thrilled to have a secret.

But when we arrived, my father quickly took my mother aside. I tore through the house looking for the cage, but it wasn't there. I eventually found it in the boathouse—my father had apparently moved it there so that we wouldn't be upset to find it empty. So much for that. I wasn't there when the rest of my friends found Miss Palindrome. I was still puzzling over the empty cage in the boathouse.

My father apologized over and over. He insisted that he left the cage in the kitchen, securely locked, and went to sleep. When he awoke, the door was open and Miss Palindrome was gone. He guessed that somehow a raccoon had gotten in through the attic and worked the cage door open, then chased the poor thing down into the cellar and attacked it. I didn't buy that for a second, but exterminators did find some holes that needed mending, so no one gave the matter another thought. The cage was carefully disposed of, and there was another secret for me to keep. None of my friends ever learned what happened to the real Miss Palindrome—how could they, when for all they knew, she was safe at home? We bought Mrs. Oglebie a new rabbit, and she opted to keep the secret and name it Miss Palindrome. Her incoming class was already excited to pet the legendary class bunny.

To this day, I'm not sure what mistake cost Miss Palindrome's life.

Whether it was Miss Palindrome herself that was unacceptable, or something my father did that I will never know, or whether they disapproved of my friends. I don't know if the quiet ones meant to punish me, or Chelsea, or someone else.

Maybe all of us.

I do know that after Miss Palindrome's killing, I never saw a quiet one again. I've felt them for a very long time, but I cannot see them anymore. Not so much as a glimmer of light in the darkness. Not until today.

I don't want to think about what that means.

"How are you feeling?"

I turn around to see Chelsea standing over me. She looks completely innocent. Resentment vibrates through me, but I tamp it down. No more girl on the stairs. No more slamming doors.

"Better."

Mila gives me an odd look as Chelsea settles down on the floor next to me like nothing ever happened. "Everything okay with Emily?" she asks pointedly.

"What?" Chelsea furrows her brow. "Oh. Yes." Her eyes dart out the window toward Ryan just for a split second, and again I have to force myself to stay calm. I press my icy glass against my pounding forehead. I understand that she still cares about him. I don't relate, but I believe he has an important place in her life. What I don't understand is why she would need to lie to me. First about dating him. But at least we weren't technically together then. There's nothing to forgive about that, even if it hurts. But now? The fact that she's still lying to me about anything involving Ryan scares the living hell out of me. But again she turns to Mila like nothing is wrong, the classic Chelsea subject change. "Catch me up? Speed round. Coke or Pepsi?"

Mila looks taken aback. "Water? I hate soda."

"Mets or Yankees?"

"Islanders."

"Fair. Killer or victim?"

"Final girl."

Chelsea leans forward. "And how will the world end? With a bang or a whisper?"

Mila considers. "A series of clicks and chimes from the AI revolution."

"Interesting. Explain."

"The two biggest threats to humanity are artificial intelligence and climate change. But AI wins because it's an economic, security, and potentially mass-weapon threat. And it's the ultimate culmination of humanity's impulse to self-destruct."

Chelsea looks impressed. "All very good points." And like that, Mila wins over Chelsea, too.

Mila might be more interesting than I originally estimated.

She's also kind of cute. Or maybe I'm just pissed off at Chelsea. When I get angry at her, it makes other people automatically more attractive. It shouldn't, but it does. I always wonder whether that's human nature or something that makes me personally evil. Hopefully the former. But I'm too afraid to ask anyone else because I honestly don't want to know if it's just me.

Chelsea sips her gemonade slowly, and my eyes follow hers out the window again. I can't tell if she's looking at Ryan or the sunset. But I suddenly feel so sad and helpless I want to cry. Nothing feels good anymore. Maybe it's my head. I put my drink down and struggle to rise.

Mila shifts over in the hammock. "Sorry. I'm tangled."

"It's not your fault. It's basically a fishing net. This is how dolphins die and shit." Chelsea reaches over and helps me up, and I lean into her.

"I feel light-headed," I say.

She peers into my eyes as if she knows how to look for a concussion or something. "You should rest. Come on." Chelsea crouches down and slides an arm under my knees.

"Chelsea, no."

She tries to lift me, and we both go sprawling. Chelsea starts giggling uncontrollably, and I realize that she's already buzzed too. She has to be on her second drink. I scowl at her. "You could have just concussed me."

Chelsea laughs harder, her chin bent to her chest, legs tangled in mine. "That's not even a word."

"Yes it is. A person with a concussion is concussed." I try to pick myself up, but she grabs me around the waist and I wonder if this is all it takes to be okay. Laughing like nothing is wrong. Smashing mirrors. Getting drunk. I feel like I'm stuck in a No?l Coward play. But I want it to be okay. I want all of us to be okay. I sigh and sink down to the floor with her.

Mila gazes down at us from the hammock. "I can see it," she says.

"What's that?" I look up at her as Chelsea wraps her arms around me from behind, forming a kind of human armchair.

"Ryan is kind of sexy. In an unexpected way." She takes a thoughtful sip of gemonade. "He did fight Chase for me."

"He slapped Chase," I point out. "And I don't know if that was a hundred percent about you. They… have unresolved issues."

Mila smiles, almost condescendingly. "It's not the first time two guys have fought over me. Unresolved issues or not, that was about me."

"Well, you're just tumbling right on out of your shell now, aren't you?" Chelsea says.

Mila shrugs. "I'm shy when I first meet people. I know you now."

"Eh," Chelsea says.

"How well do you ever know anyone?" I say, untangling my hair from Chelsea's. Innocuous enough. I think.

"You don't." Mila nods her head toward Chelsea and raises an eyebrow, then tilts her glass up to catch the last piece of ice between her teeth.