It doesn’t matter. It has to be from Kyle.

If you keep ignoring me you’re not going to like what happens. I read the sentence over and over again, stuck on it, like it’s on an endless loop in my head.

“Sophie?”

I look up from the paper in my hand. Dad’s standing in my doorway, frowning.

“Sorry. Yeah?”

“I was just saying I’m heading out,” he says. “I’ve got an early lunch with Rob. Your mom already left. Sweetie, are you okay? You look pale. I could cancel—”

“I’m fine,” I say, but my ears are ringing. Already, I’m cycling through the possible places Kyle would be right now. “I just pushed myself too much. My knee hurts.”

“Do you want some ice?”

“I’ll get it,” I say. “You don’t have to cancel, Dad. Go to lunch. Say hi to Coach for me.” I need Dad out of the house. I have to find Kyle. Where would he be right now? At home?

“Okay,” Dad says. “You’ll call me if it gets bad?”

I smile, which he seems to take as a yes.

I wait, Kyle’s note crumpled in my fist, until Dad drives off in his sedan. Then I pick up my phone and punch in Adam’s number. I pace across the room as it rings.

When he finally picks up, I can hear laughter and barking dogs in the background. “Hello?”

“Adam, hi. It’s Sophie.”

“Hey, what’s up?”

“I was wondering if you knew where Kyle’d be right now,” I say. “I found a necklace of Mina’s that I think he gave her. I wanted to give it to him to make up for being such a bitch last week. I wasn’t sure where or when he was working this summer.”

“Yeah, he’s probably at work,” Adam says, and someone says his name, followed by more male laughter. “Wait a second, guys,” he calls. “Sorry, Soph. He’s at his dad’s restaurant, not the diner, the seafood place out on Main…the Lighthouse.”

“Thanks.”

“Yeah, no problem,” Adam says. “Hey, give me a call next week. The team’s having our bonfire out at the lake. We’ll hang out.”

“Sure,” I say, not taking it seriously. “I’ve got to go. Thanks again.”

I drive too fast, gunning it as the yellow lights switch to red, barely pausing at stop signs, careening around corners. Our downtown isn’t much because our town isn’t much. The good and bad parts are kind of squished together, the courthouse and the jail a block apart, the liquor store kitty-corner to the Methodist church. A handful of restaurants, a diner tucked across the railroad tracks, and a few pay-by-the-week motels that are a breeding ground for trouble. I slow down only when I see the Capri M-tel, the blue-and-pink neon sign with the missing O.

The Lighthouse is right next to it, so I park quickly and bang through the doors, not caring if I’m drawing attention. Kyle is leaning on the counter, watching the basketball game on the flat-screen on the far wall.

The restaurant is almost empty, just a few tables full. I march past them and up to Kyle as his mouth tightens.

“I need to talk to you.”

“I’m at work.” He glares at me through his floppy blond hair. “If you go psycho in here—”

“Take a break to talk to me, or you’ll find out how ­psycho I can get.”

He glances around at the people at the tables. “Come on,” he says, and I follow him through the kitchen and out the back way, behind the restaurant, where there’s a fenced-in area for the Dumpsters. It smells awful out here, like grease and fish and garbage, and I breathe through my mouth, trying to block it out.

“I can’t believe you.” Kyle rounds on me as soon as the door closes and we’re alone. “What’s your problem?”

I hurl the note at him, slapping my palm on his chest. “Want to explain that?”

He grabs it from me, scanning it. “So what?”

I fold my arms and plant my feet. “Tell me what you and Mina fought about the night before she died.”

Kyle is the definition of an open book. He’s crap at hiding his emotions, and his mouth drops for a second before he remembers to close it. “It’s none of your business.”

“It is when you’re leaving Mina threatening notes right before she gets murdered!”

“Bullshit,” Kyle says. “This wasn’t a threat. I just wanted her to call me back.”

“You threatened her. ‘If you keep ignoring me you’re not going to like what happens.’ Who says that to their girlfriend?”

Kyle goes red, his puppy-dog eyes hardening. “Shut up. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Then explain it to me. Tell me what you guys were fighting about.”

“You need to leave it alone,” he warns.

“Not gonna do that.”

“Fuck you.” He starts toward the door, and I plant myself in front of him and push him hard. He’s over six feet and thick with muscle, but it feels good to shove him. As he stumbles, I move toward him again, but he recovers his balance and grabs my wrists easily. “Stop it, Sophie.” Then he lets go of me and steps back, holding his dinner plate–sized hands out in front of him. “You’re gonna hurt yourself.”

I lunge for him again, but he darts out of the way. I come down too hard on my leg and nearly fall.

“You’re such a pain in the ass,” he mutters as he grabs my arm to steady me.

“Tell me,” I insist. I’m panting, adrenaline ricocheting through me. “Why were you fighting?”

“Don’t,” he says. “Just don’t.”

“What did she tell you that made you so angry? What were you threatening her with?” With each question, I push him, and he just takes it. I’m right in his face, inches away, standing on my tiptoes. I have to grasp the chain-link fence behind him to stay steady. My leg is shaking, but I try to ignore it. I won’t fall in front of him. “She cared about you. She even let you sleep with her! Why would you—”

“Shut up!” he yells, and I gasp, flinching at the raw note in his voice. His brown eyes shine, like he’s about to cry. “Shut up. There’s only one of us here who was fucking her, and it sure as hell wasn’t me.”

28

THREE YEARS AGO (FOURTEEN YEARS OLD)

“We are so late,” Amber says, grabbing her soccer bag out of her mom’s car.

Mina glares at her, pulling the walker out of the backseat and unfolding it for me. “Chill out,” she says sharply.

“Coach is gonna kick our butts. We have to warm up.”

I nudge Mina. “Go. I can get to the bleachers by myself.”

“No,” she replies.

“Amber, go,” I tell her. I don’t want her to be pissed at me for making her late. She hadn’t even wanted me to come, but Mina insisted.

Amber nods, taking Mina’s bag with her.

“I’ve got it,” I insist when Mina doesn’t go with her.

Mina looks over her shoulder. The girls are already on the field; she’ll get in trouble if she doesn’t hurry. “Hey!” she shouts, waving across the parking lot. “Adam! Kyle!”

“Mina—”

“If you want me to go, then you let Kyle and Adam help you,” she says to me.

I roll my eyes and grab the handles of the walker, heaving myself up, leaning on it. The doctors are making me use it for an extra month before I can switch to the cane. I can’t believe I’m actually looking forward to a cane, but I am.

The boys come over, and once Mina’s reassured they won’t let me fall off the bleachers, she tears off toward the field, her hair streaming behind her.

Kyle looms over me. His jeans are an inch too short—he’s already bigger than everyone else in our grade and hasn’t shown any signs of stopping. He keeps a hand hovering behind my back during the torturous minutes it takes to get to the bleachers, like he’s afraid I’m going to just pitch over at any moment.

“Where’s your dad today?” Adam asks as I sit down on the bottom bleacher. “Uncle Rob’s short a coach.”

“Emergency root canal,” I say.

“Is that even a thing?” Kyle asks.

“I guess so. You guys can go sit up at the top, if you want. I’m fine here on my own.”

“Better view from here,” Kyle says with a grin.

It makes me smile back. I dig in my purse, coming up with a bag of M&M’s, and we pass it back and forth as we turn our attention to the soccer field.

The girls are getting ready to start, warming up on the side of the field. Mina’s dark, curly head is bent as she touches her forehead to her knee, stretching her legs out.

“Aren’t you helping Coach out?” Kyle asks Adam.

“In a sec,” Adam says. “He doesn’t need me till they start.”

Kyle’s eyes stay on Mina, watching her stretch her arms above her head, reaching up, up, up, like she can touch the sky. She’s the smallest on the team—but when she’s on the field, it’s like she’s ten feet tall, full of strength and speed.

“You’re getting good moving around.” Adam pulls his baseball cap off, sticking it in his back pocket.

“Almost ready for a cane,” I say. “Go me.”

“Hey.” Kyle frowns. “You should be proud. Mina says you work your ass off in physical therapy.”

“Is that what Mina says, Kyle?” Adam asks, and he grins at me conspiratorially as Kyle’s face reddens.

“Your parents bugging you about college yet?” Kyle asks, like he’s desperate to change the subject.

“They’re making noises. But it’s kind of early.”

“Maybe for you,” Adam says. “I’ve gotta start thinking scholarships. I can’t go anywhere without help. And I’m not gonna get any prizes for my grades.”

Kyle laughs. “Hell, no,” he says. “You’re gonna get one for being the best goalie NorCal’s ever seen.”

Adam grins, standing up. The girls are starting to gather on the field. Our team’s in blue, the Anderson Cougars are in red. “Well, here’s hoping. I don’t want to be stuck here forever. I should get down there before Uncle Rob gets too pissed. See you later, Soph.”