Lucy
“Can you believe the bloody shirt?” Olivia asks. There’s an incredulous tone to her voice, like she’s trying to contain herself. The timbre reminds me of when we were fifteen and won that doubles tournament, when we cheered and yelped and held the trophy high above our heads.
Today is the Fourth of July, and we’re standing side by side on a big blue parade float gliding slowly down Main Street, wearing Pelican Island Strong T-shirts that Anjali handed us earlier this morning. Mayor Cho’s white vintage convertible inches forward ahead of us and we wave to the crowds.
“My aunt is losing her mind,” Olivia says. “She’s so grateful this is going to be over soon. Hoping he enters a guilty plea and everyone can avoid a trial.”
“That’s so crazy,” I say, shaking my head.
Ever since the news broke that Justin’s blood was on Billy’s shirt, it’s as if the entire town has exhaled, knowing that there’s an explanation for Billy’s death.
Most of the extra security has disbanded, and Billy’s parents were seen walking around town for the first time in weeks, eating at Sunday Best and getting bagels at Schmear & Co.
No one’s seen or heard from the Vreelands except for Alex, who swears he saw Justin’s dad wiping graffiti off the Hot Diggity window.
All around us, people line the sidewalks as they wave American flags in the air and blast music from enormous speakers.
Every so often, a poof of confetti rains down, and I have to tamp down the impulse to pluck stray pieces of gold and red and blue foil from Olivia’s hair.
Plumes of smoke from a nearby portable grill waft into the air, and I catch a whiff of burgers and charred corn on the cob.
The Pelican Island Fourth of July parade has always been one of my favorite days of the year.
It’s tradition for families to gather along Main Street starting at six in the morning and snag prime watching spots by unfolding chairs and sun umbrellas, coolers full of orange juice and iced coffee, and to wait around, together, singing songs and skipping from one family’s setup to another’s.
Dad and Gil were always in charge of securing spots for all ten of us, laying out two big blankets on the sidewalk and weighing down the corners with tote bags full of sand toys. By the time we joined them, the Godwins would be close by. The Vreelands, too.
But this year, none of us kids will watch on Main Street, because we are all in the parade. Me with Mayor Cho’s brigade and the rest of them on various Pelican Island Beach Club floats a few blocks behind us.
“There they all are,” Olivia says, pointing toward my parents, huddled up with the Silvers and the Godwins.
The group is usually split by sex, the wives hanging out on one blanket and the husbands on another, but today my dad stays close to Mom and the other women while Gil and Mr. Godwin stand side by side.
There’s a pained look on Dad’s face, even as he gives me a wave.
It’s probably nothing. Just stress. Nothing for me to worry about, even though I can’t help myself.
“Anyway. Do you mind if we try to have fun today?” Olivia asks.
“I need to let loose.” A smile rips across her face, and she throws her arm around me, leaning her weight on my shoulder, and waves at the crowd.
She hasn’t been this close to me since that morning at Scoop DeVille, and the feel of her pressed against me, the smell of her shampoo…
It’s enough to make me dizzy. “Come on,” she says. “Give our subjects what they want.”
I bring my hand up and wiggle my fingers at the crowd, which makes Olivia laugh, her hair tickling the soft skin on the inside of my elbow.
Without thinking, I sling my arm around her back, press my fingers into her ribs.
She inches closer to me so we’re hip to hip, and I swear I hear her inhale sharply, her laughing hitch.
I drop my arm, suddenly self-conscious, and my insides swim. I drew her too close.
Olivia leans over the railing and calls to the crowd, “Happy Independence Day!” like nothing has happened. She didn’t notice anything weird. It’s all in my head. But if that should bring me relief, it doesn’t. Instead a hint of disappointment bubbles up in my chest.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and when I pull it out, I see a text from Erica. Did I just see you and Olivia acting chummy AF?? Are you VIBING??
I look over my shoulder and see Erica on the float behind us looking right at me with her eyebrows raised and a devilish smile on her face. I shake my head, but she shrugs, then looks down at her phone.
A moment later, I get another text. I don’t hate it!!!!
I send her a rolling-eyes emoji and stuff my phone away, refusing to let her nudging burrow into my brain.
The next block goes by in a haze of humidity and languid laughter as the float nears the end of the parade, stopping at the Beach Club, where all the participants are invited to an all-town barbecue.
When we round the corner and our float comes to a stop, Olivia climbs down first, then extends her hand up to me to help me off the steel stairs.
“Thanks.” I grip her fingers and step down onto the concrete, but someone bumps my shoulder, causing me to fall into Olivia, my other hand bracing against her waist. “Sorry,” I say, my hand still attached to her, pressing against the soft cotton of her skirt, the hint of bone beneath the fabric.
She’s warm beneath my touch, and there’s a tightening in my stomach, a strong desire to be completely alone with her right now.
Olivia steps back and smiles as a piece of confetti flutters in the air, settling on the crown of her head. “All good,” she says.
I can’t help myself. I reach out and pluck the tiny piece of confetti from her hair and let it fall to the ground between us.
“I’m sorry I dumped all that stuff on you about school, by the way,” she says suddenly, her voice low. “It’s not your problem.”
“I’m glad you told me,” I say. “It makes me feel close to you.” My cheeks blush instantly. I don’t know why I said that, and the word close lingers between us, an offer.
“Are you reading anything good lately?” she asks, and the change of subject gives me pause.
“What?”
“I saw you carrying the Emily Henry book at work the other day. Is it good?”
I never read a word of that book the other night, was too preoccupied by the postcard I found inside the pages. Olivia’s mouth twitches, and everything goes very still, and I study her face.
“Did you leave me that postcard?” I ask, my voice still. “Did you slip that into my bag?”
Olivia’s cheeks flush, and her fingers fly up to her hair like they’re trying to keep her in place.
“I found it when I was going through a box of Billy’s stuff.
He showed it to me right before we broke up.
I thought he threw it out, but there it was when I went in the other day, sitting on top of his Spanish homework.
” She shrugs. “You said it never happened, but I wanted you to have that postcard. I wanted you to know I wasn’t lying. ”
My throat is suddenly raw, and even though all around us people are cheering and shooting off confetti and barbecuing burgers, the only thing I can focus on is the timidness on her face, the hint of guilt written in the lines on her forehead.
“It never happened,” I say. “I have no idea why he would write something like that. Ethan never told me he sent Billy a postcard from that trip or anything.”
Her pink mouth parts, her tongue darting out quickly to coat her upper lip. “That’s how I knew about you guys. Billy was clearly trying to start shit, but he also had my back. At the time, I was appreciative.”
I shake my head, a rush of hot anger washing over my body.
Olivia doesn’t need to tell me the chronology because I’m wildly aware of it.
One week after we returned from vacation, Olivia ended things, saying she didn’t have to explain herself, and that I knew what had happened.
I was baffled at the time, utterly shocked, and cried to Erica about it for weeks.
That only means one thing: Ethan lied when he wrote that postcard. He knew Billy would tell Olivia, that Olivia would break up with me.
My breathing grows ragged as I start to form my next thought.
“Are you okay?” Olivia asks. “It’s all in the past. I just wanted you to know.”
I barely hear her. As the rest of Mayor Cho’s staff unloads her float, I push my way through the crowd, desperate to get away from the Beach Club as fast as possible before Ethan and the others arrive, ready to celebrate.
Everything becomes clear. Ethan made it all up. Our entire relationship—the one that’s been the backbone of my high school experience, the one that he talks about extending into the future, into forever, the one that I don’t even know if I want anymore—was built on a lie.