good a person to let her killer go free.”
Lina opened her mouth, but the words caught in her throat. Rose vanished inside. The worst part about Rose’s little speech was that she was right. Her knees trembled as she lowered herself into one of the upholstered lounge chairs, her hands useless in her lap. Funny: this was where she first met Willa. This exact spot, on the first day of the Club’s summer camp. Dumping your annoying middle school-aged child off at day camp was a time-honored Hawthorne Lake tradition. Lina swore her mother actually swiped her hands together after closing the car door, like Lina were a bag of trash on garbage day. And she kind of was. Glasses, baby fat, braces, and the beginnings of boobs no one bothered to help fit for a bra. If it weren’t for the incessant name calling at her school, Lina would still stink to high heaven, but she’d at least learned to sneak her mom’s deodorant.
And then she had seen Willa. Beautiful, even at an age where nobody was. Willa, who didn’t have to suffer through braces or get made fun of for having a mustache or bad eyebrows or zits or any of the other requisite humiliations of puberty: always the girl everyone wished they could be. And when Willa saw her that was it: she chose Lina to be her friend. No strings attached. There wasn’t some glamorous makeover, a dramatic unveiling of contacts and a cut and color all thanks to the beautiful blonde taking pity on the ugly duckling. There was just friendship. And fun. It was the first time Lina ever remembered anyone really liking her for who she really was. Honestly, it might have been the last.
“What the hell have I done?” she whispered out loud.
She had been wrong about Rose. She wanted Rose to have an agenda so she’d have a reason to hate her. A reason that wasn’t based on petty jealousy.
Lina pushed herself to her feet. She didn’t head to the poolhouse because she felt bad for misjudging Rose. She didn’t go to prove to herself that losing Willa hadn’t turned her into a jealous bitch. No, Lina went to the pool house because all those years ago Willa had picked her. And when she crouched beside a leather chair and balanced herself on the terracotta tiles, her fingers tight on the camera, she was determined to finally take a real risk in return.
Lina paced the small shadowy pool house. Dusk had now fully settled in. The pool lights clicked on, and the water glowed like turquoise glass against the dark stone of the deck. Soon, couples would begin to spill out from within the Club, second and third glasses of wine in hand. Lina chewed her lip. Time wasn’t on her and Rose’s side. But then she heard a shatter. Where James Gregory walked, the sound of breaking glass inevitably followed. He was good at breaking things.
Rose froze, and even in the dark Lina saw her eyes widen. She was scared. Lina never should have agreed to let Rose do the dirty work. There was just no way in hell Ms. Stick-Up-Her-Ass was ever going to have the balls to get James naked. In poured James like the alcohol he was so fond of. He practically fell into the pool area, stumbled over the threshold, barely able to right himself. Brown liquid sloshed over the rim of his glass, his sunglasses perched at the end of his nose even though the day was long over. His eyes landed on Rose above his sunglasses, and he straightened, lunging in her direction.
Rose’s first instinct seemed to be to take a step backward, but she quickly ducked around him and spun toward the pool, reversing places as if they were doing some sort of messed-up tango. Lina’s stomach clenched. She resisted the urge to scream at Rose to stop, that he was dangerous, that he was drunk, that it could happen again. But she was righthere this time. She was in control. She could save Rose if she needed saving.
“Hey.” Rose said the word softly, like an invitation,
“I’ve tried calling you so many times. You never pick up. Never. What are you,
Lina opened her mouth, but the words caught in her throat. Rose vanished inside. The worst part about Rose’s little speech was that she was right. Her knees trembled as she lowered herself into one of the upholstered lounge chairs, her hands useless in her lap. Funny: this was where she first met Willa. This exact spot, on the first day of the Club’s summer camp. Dumping your annoying middle school-aged child off at day camp was a time-honored Hawthorne Lake tradition. Lina swore her mother actually swiped her hands together after closing the car door, like Lina were a bag of trash on garbage day. And she kind of was. Glasses, baby fat, braces, and the beginnings of boobs no one bothered to help fit for a bra. If it weren’t for the incessant name calling at her school, Lina would still stink to high heaven, but she’d at least learned to sneak her mom’s deodorant.
And then she had seen Willa. Beautiful, even at an age where nobody was. Willa, who didn’t have to suffer through braces or get made fun of for having a mustache or bad eyebrows or zits or any of the other requisite humiliations of puberty: always the girl everyone wished they could be. And when Willa saw her that was it: she chose Lina to be her friend. No strings attached. There wasn’t some glamorous makeover, a dramatic unveiling of contacts and a cut and color all thanks to the beautiful blonde taking pity on the ugly duckling. There was just friendship. And fun. It was the first time Lina ever remembered anyone really liking her for who she really was. Honestly, it might have been the last.
“What the hell have I done?” she whispered out loud.
She had been wrong about Rose. She wanted Rose to have an agenda so she’d have a reason to hate her. A reason that wasn’t based on petty jealousy.
Lina pushed herself to her feet. She didn’t head to the poolhouse because she felt bad for misjudging Rose. She didn’t go to prove to herself that losing Willa hadn’t turned her into a jealous bitch. No, Lina went to the pool house because all those years ago Willa had picked her. And when she crouched beside a leather chair and balanced herself on the terracotta tiles, her fingers tight on the camera, she was determined to finally take a real risk in return.
Lina paced the small shadowy pool house. Dusk had now fully settled in. The pool lights clicked on, and the water glowed like turquoise glass against the dark stone of the deck. Soon, couples would begin to spill out from within the Club, second and third glasses of wine in hand. Lina chewed her lip. Time wasn’t on her and Rose’s side. But then she heard a shatter. Where James Gregory walked, the sound of breaking glass inevitably followed. He was good at breaking things.
Rose froze, and even in the dark Lina saw her eyes widen. She was scared. Lina never should have agreed to let Rose do the dirty work. There was just no way in hell Ms. Stick-Up-Her-Ass was ever going to have the balls to get James naked. In poured James like the alcohol he was so fond of. He practically fell into the pool area, stumbled over the threshold, barely able to right himself. Brown liquid sloshed over the rim of his glass, his sunglasses perched at the end of his nose even though the day was long over. His eyes landed on Rose above his sunglasses, and he straightened, lunging in her direction.
Rose’s first instinct seemed to be to take a step backward, but she quickly ducked around him and spun toward the pool, reversing places as if they were doing some sort of messed-up tango. Lina’s stomach clenched. She resisted the urge to scream at Rose to stop, that he was dangerous, that he was drunk, that it could happen again. But she was righthere this time. She was in control. She could save Rose if she needed saving.
“Hey.” Rose said the word softly, like an invitation,
“I’ve tried calling you so many times. You never pick up. Never. What are you,
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