Page 37

Day Four
Delaney didn’t throw the napkin with Maeve’s number away, though she wasn’t sure why she didn’t. Maybe because she knew someone was hunting her, and what better way than to pretend you’re new to town and want to chat up a friendly face?
Or a not-so-friendly face, in Delaney’s case.
Maybe Maeve had been exactly who she’d said she was. Delaney kept the phone number just in case.
Then she put the woman out of her mind. She found a motel on the road leading into Gig Harbor, the kind where theoand theaon theNo Vacancysign had burned out long ago and would never be replaced. The kidney-shaped pool was empty except for a dirty mattress at the bottom, and her room smelled of cigarettes and Fritos.
It was perfect.
Delaney tried to wash off the thin layer of sweat that had broken out on her skin hours ago, but the weak excuse of a shower failed her miserably.
She somehow felt worse when she got out, but she shoved her legs into black jeans that cut into her hip bones anyway. They weren’t her style,but she’d picked them up at a Goodwill a while back for one purpose. She paired them with a slinky top that clung to her nipples and boots with enough of a heel to change her gait.
The one remaining piece was a neon-pink wig cut into a sharply angled bob. It reminded her of Isabel’s preferred look—the one she’d used as Jenna, an overeager podcaster with an ambitious heart and the wardrobe of a much younger woman.
She stared in the mirror and didn’t recognize herself.
Delaney Moore dressed in Earth Mother tones and styles and had long, mud-colored hair she wore in a braid.
This was Lana Parker, coming out to join the fun.
They were so easy to find, the girls.
Delaney looked at them and saw all the ways they yearned. For better men, for better lives, for a better-tasting drink.
They weren’t recognizable as a mirror to herself, to Isabel or Raisa. None of them had been girls who yearned. They hunted and were hunted, they lived with the scraps they were given instead of asking for more.
But she had a fondness for the yearners nonetheless.
They were recognizable as at least human, unlike the monsters Delaney so often encountered spending most of her time on the dark web.
Let’s play a game . . .
There was a bonfire on the ocean, and it drew Delaney, a moth to the proverbial flame. In the dark, she almost fit in.
Stand in your enemy’s shadow.
Someone shifted out of the darkness beside her. A girl. She huffed out an annoyed breath. “No one has cigarettes anymore.”
“They’re the leading cause of preventable disease and death in the United States,” Delaney said, because she could look the part, but she’d never been able to act it.
She wasn’t Isabel. She wasn’t even Lana. She was Delaney Moore, and she had never been cool a day in her life.
The girl who’d sidled up next to her, a red Solo cup in one hand and a vape pen in the other, laughed. She had a bright, pretty smile, even though one canine was crooked. Her eyes were wide pools in the moonlight.
And she was just who Delaney had been looking for.
Because if she was going to get chased to Gig Harbor, she might as well take advantage of it.
“I mean, the superbugs or the wildfires or the mass shootings are probably gonna get us before I have to worry about hardened arteries,” the girl said. “But you make a good point.”
When Delaney didn’t say anything, the girl held out her hand. “Gabriela. But everyone calls me Gabbi.”
They watched the crowd of people on the beach for a while, before Gabbi tried conversation one more time.
“Do I know you from Intro to Calculus?” Gabbi asked.