Page 92

I don’t usually feel that way on the water, but I can’t help it this morning.

The texts, the threats, the odd series of events all jumble through my mind.

And then there’s that word: “murder.”

It’s one thing to write about it. Another to be its object.

I know. I almost was.

And I recognize the feeling I have now as an echo of what I had then. Like having a sixth sense for danger. Like a metal detector for black thoughts.

It’s all around me and I’m alone out here.

Someone could grab my foot and pull me under, and no one would be the wiser.

I freeze, doing that countdown in my head that I did yesterday at lunch.

Because one thing David and I have in common is that our thoughts tend toward writing.

And if I were writing this, itisthe moment when something terrible would happen.

Right about...

“What thefuckis wrong with you?”

The shouts carry over the water from the dock. I wipe the water from my eyes to see who’s speaking. Tyler is there withFred. They’re waving their arms at each other, but I don’t hear any other words. I try to swim closer, but I’m too far away, the words I heard a fluke of an air pocket.

Fred reaches for Tyler’s arm, and he tugs it away.

But while Tyler is unsteady on his feet, Fred shoves him so that he tumbles over backward and falls into the water with a loud splash.

There’s a shocked circle of onlookers around them, and then the ferry blasts its horn, and everyone rushes to get on.

Fred’s standing over Tyler on the high ground of the dock, while Tyler struggles to pull himself onto the dock. He says something that’s swallowed by the breeze.

And then the world quiets down and I can hear what he says next.

“If you come near me again, you’re dead.”

58Breaking the fourth wall is when a character speaks directly to the audience. Like I’m doing now.

59I have no idea what the first, second, and third walls are. The walls of a set? And the fourth is the camera? That’s probably it. But how does that apply to books? Hmmmm.

60Scale is the basic minimum that an actor can be paid depending on a film’s budget.

CHAPTER 16

No One’s Ever Been Murdered on a Tennis Court, Right?

“Are you sure that’s what you heard?” Harper asks me as we walk up the path to the tennis courts later that morning. “You were pretty far away from the docks.”

I put my hand on the black metal railing that leads the way up the steep stairs. I stopped counting at twenty. “You think my mind’s playing tricks on me?”

She glances over her shoulder. “It’s possible. Or it’s just filling in the blanks. There’s a lot of threats going around...”

“What do you think, Oli?” I look back at him. He’s red in the face, which makes him look cuter, especially since he’s in tennis whites.

We’re climbing these stairs because we’re going to the exhibition tennis match Emma arranged between us. The courts are above the villas and the spa pool/hot tub thingies that maybe tried to kill us yesterday.