Chapter Thirty-Six
Then
Minutes Before the Fire
I almost turned back around, to search the beach for Steph. But then I heard her—I heard both of them, just up the trail, headed straight for the Barn.
Steph and Margo.
I was sober and panicked immediately, as I felt the weight of all the stupid, reckless things I’d said to her. How angry she’d made me.
What had I done?
Everything was going wrong, even more than it already had. I was supposed to be the easy, affable one. I was supposed to say yes to Steph, give her what she wanted. Margo was the difficult, needy friend—not me.
But I’d cracked. They’d both pushed me too far, and I’d cracked. All the pressure, all the guilt, had fallen on me like a boulder, and every dark, terrible thought had come rushing out of me like blood from a head wound.
Though they were too far away for me to make out their words, it wasn’t hard to imagine their current conversation—Steph would be telling Margo everything I’d just said.
That I’d blamed her for every bad thing that had happened this summer.
She was probably saying I was fucked in the head, absolutely unhinged.
And Margo would be agreeing, saying I told you she was weird.
God, they were probably already making new plans, reworking the blueprints of the next six months.
Excising me completely—the bitchy, stuck-up heiress that neither of them liked all that much anyway.
Was it all over before it had even begun?
I had to fix this. That awful, nervous feeling was creeping over my skin like a spider. I could not be trapped here. I had to go after her. After both of them.
A light hand on my arm made me jump.
“Are you okay?” Chelsea’s voice was so quiet, so kind, that I thought it couldn’t really have been her. On her face, I saw none of the judgment or hostility I’d been expecting. Instead, she just looked tired and worried. She looked like the girl I’d known for twenty-two years.
“No,” I said simply, running a hand over my face. “I’m not. Steph went with Margo—it’s all falling apart.”
She furrowed her brow. “What’s falling apart?”
“Everything,” I said, tears blurring my vision, the vodka making my lips loose. “I can’t move without her, but she picked Margo, of course she picked Margo, and—”
It was all out of my mouth before I realized what I’d just admitted. After a beat of silence, I dared to look at Chelsea. Her jaw was open, and she was gaping at me, her mouth sagging like a dead fish.
“What are you talking about?”
My throat tightened. There was no going back now.
She’d find out soon enough anyway. “I’m, um—moving to Atlanta.
Next week. Me and Steph are going to be roommates.
Or we’re supposed to be, as long as…” I shook my head.
“I just need to do something else for a while. Something different. I think…I’m not sure if this is what I want. At least not forever.”
The betraying words hung between us for an exceptionally long time, and I felt like I’d invoked an ancient curse by saying them out loud. That any moment, the ground would open beneath us, the locusts would appear, the true end would make itself known.
None of these things happened. Instead, Chelsea gave me a stiff nod, her cold blue eyes staring right through me. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because you would have told me it was stupid.”
“It is stupid,” she confirmed, flipping her braids back over her shoulders. “But I can’t stop you from being stupid. I would rather know than…” She trailed off, looked up at the sky. “Be kept in the dark.”
“I didn’t want you to tell anyone.”
Chelsea huffed a laugh, but there was no humor in it. “I’m not a narc. I wouldn’t tell your mom. I’m your best friend.” We both heard the real question, unspoken between us: Aren’t I?
“It just kind of happened,” I explained, eyes back on the forest, down the path I knew they were on.
“Margo’s going on her big trip—or she’s supposed to be—and their sublet fell through.
I’m getting a job at this cute little bar where Steph’s friend works.
And it’s right down the street from Trevor’s place, too. ”
“Wow,” Chelsea breathed, somewhere between exhaustion and wonder. “An apartment, a job, a boyfriend, and a roommate. A whole new life, really.” She sniffed, and I didn’t want to look at her. I needed to get out of this conversation—I needed to find Steph.
“You know I love you,” she said, so sentimental that I wanted to throttle her and hug her at the same time.
Instead, I stilled.
“But I want you to be sure that…this…is safe.”
“Safe?” I said, before I could stop myself. It was not the adjective I’d been expecting. “Is what safe?”
“Steph.” She said it simply, with no inflection, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
“Chels, listen,” I said. The urge to throttle her had amped up. “I’m sorry I didn’t know how to tell you. But I can’t—I don’t want to do this right now, okay? I need to talk to her.”
“She’s dark, Greer. There’s something wrong with her.
” She crossed her arms over herself, pausing to listen to the birds chattering over our heads.
“Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed what she’s been like the past couple of weeks.
I don’t trust her. She’s as bad as Margo. She’s just better at hiding it.”
“You’re jealous.” It was mean, but I didn’t like how close she was getting. I didn’t like that she was saying exactly what I’d been afraid of. Because I knew—without a shadow of a doubt—just how dark Steph could truly be.
And I didn’t care. I needed her anyway.
Chelsea gave me a look that was impossibly patient. “This isn’t about jealousy. I’m trying to help you.”
The sane, normal part of me believed her. It really did. But the new ugly and monstrous part of me exploded before I even knew what I was doing. “I don’t need your fucking help. I need you to leave me alone and let me live my life.”
Chelsea’s nose twitched. “I’m not trying to start an argument with you, but she’s going to hurt you—”
“Then go.” The monster was speaking of its own accord. I was so fucking tired, absolutely run ragged, by her attempts to control my life. First with Wes, now with this. Even if she was right about Steph—she didn’t get to decide what was best for me. “My life has nothing to do with you, okay?”
Chelsea brought a hand to her face like I’d slapped her. “You’ve changed. I don’t even recognize you anymore.”
She was right. I was different. I had changed. And I had nothing left to say. So, I turned toward the woods, away from her, to make sure I did what needed to be done. Before it was too late.
—
A cover of clouds had stolen the stars, making the walk darker than I would have liked.
I could tell exactly where they were headed, when they turned right at the fork in the path.
The only other thing in that direction, before the woods became too dense and wild for hiking trails, was the Barn.
I could hear the two of them, fifty or so feet in front of me, talking just quietly enough that I knew they were speaking, but I couldn’t make out any of the words.
I knew this path inside and out—I could walk it blindfolded.
But there was still something so eerie, being out here alone.
A part of me wished I’d gone to find Trevor first, but I hadn’t wanted to drag him into this.
He would have told me to not worry about them, to come back to the party. To figure it out tomorrow.
I didn’t have tomorrow, though. I only had tonight. One final chance to seal my fate.
The thunder crackled once, violently, so hard it made me nearly jump out of my skin. I’d seen my share of summer storms in my years at the Cove, but this summer had been unseasonably dry. It hadn’t rained in weeks, and the leaves were so dry they crumbled like sand beneath my feet.
But the sky didn’t open up to rain. At least not yet. I was close to the Barn now, but with the wind and the storm beginning to move, I could no longer hear Steph or Margo. They were too far ahead. A twig snapped behind me, and I spun around, heart hammering.
It was so, so dark. I knew that the Phantom was somewhere ahead of me, stumbling through the brush. If anyone had the advantage tonight, it was me.
But then another twig snapped, and my chest seized. Hot, drunk panic raced through my veins, and I groped blindly in my bag for my phone, desperate for a flashlight.
It wasn’t there. Dimly, I could picture it—stuck into the charger, safe back at Black Bass. The wind whipped through the trees, blowing my hair into my face, temporarily blinding me.
I reached into the depths of my bag, my hands landing on something long and rectangular. Then I remembered—my mom’s lighter. I’d grabbed it from Steph the night we’d snuck into her cabin. I hadn’t put it back.
I gripped it protectively, like it was my only line of defense at whatever was behind me.
“Hello?” I said to no one, spinning in a circle, trying to catch a glimpse of movement or light. Distantly, I heard a laugh—maybe a scream. I wasn’t sure. The stars were hidden by the fog, and I couldn’t see anything. I felt as trapped as I had in the wine cellar—unsure if I’d ever see light again.
With shaky hands, I thumbed the lighter, trying desperately to get it to strike. I held it close to my face, the heat of the flame warming my cheek. “Who’s there?” I croaked, though I heard nothing, saw no one.
All at once, the sky split open in warning, and the thunder shot through my very heart. There was no time for me to think about it; no time for me to register the action before the moment had already passed me by.
No chance to plan, prepare, make things right. No way to go back in time. No choice.
It was shock. It was nature, seizing control. Maybe—in one way or another—an act of God, after all.
The lighter slipped from my hand, onto the dry, brittle earth. I closed my eyes, but not before the forest ignited at my feet.