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Her head spun as she walked from the bus stop with two grocery bags dangling from her arms. Were they brought into the police station because of something in Emily’s journal?

As she walked up to her house, the smell of paint fumes assaulted her nostrils. There was a tarp laid out on the neighbor’s lawn and a department store mannequin on top. It was spray-painted bright pink. Oliver Burns ripped off his protective mask and adjusted his septum ring.

Jodi used to say hello to him, but when he’d stopped saying hello back in freshman year, she’d stopped, too. Since then, he’d gotten a bit of a reputation for “drugs and drag,” as his Instagram bio and TikTok presence would say. He utilized the video app like a New Helvetia High gossip account with followers all over the Sacramento area. He’d tagged her in something Friday night—a mock-up of a mugshot, one for each of them.

He pushed his blue hair off his brow and pulled the bottom of his T-shirt up to wipe his sweating face. He was so thin—his hip bones popping out and his ribs like ladder steps. He hadn’t been that thin last year. When they were younger, Oliver actually had a little meat on his bones. She still remembered that adorable asthmatic boy who used to stage plays with her in his backyard.

His shirt dropped, and he met her eyes. When she passed him on the sidewalk, she could swear she heard him start whistling “Jailhouse Rock.”

Pushing open her front door with her shoe, Jodi quickly set down the bags in the kitchen.

“Jo?” Her dad’s voice called.

“Yeah, it’s me.” She unpacked one bag and tossed it into the plastic bag that held all other plastic bags.

Footsteps came toward the kitchen. “Ah, shit. I’m sorry, I got in late and didn’t get to go to Save Mart.”

Jodi tossed the frozen dinners in the freezer drawer and straightened. “It’s okay. I got it. How was Houston?”

Her dad was in his pajamas still, rubbing his face with a frown. “San Antonio.”

“I got Texas right.”

“It was fine. Quick. What time did you get in last night?”

The memory of the police station swam up. Jodi took a deep breath, preparing herself. “Around two.”

“That’s pretty late, Jo,” he said, leveling his stare at her.

“Well, let’s pretend I said eleven then.” She flashed a grin at him.

He sighed. “Look, I know I said we’d do Topgolf today…”

Jodi’s throat tightened. “Oh. No, it’s fine.”

“It’s just that I took a quick overnight for Reno.”

She nodded. “That’s great.” She shoved the cereal into the cupboard.

“You sure? Is there anything new with you?”

Jodi smiled weakly. She thought of Dad’s shift tonight, and how he would cancel it if she told him anything about the cops. How he took these shifts when he got stressed about money. How he drank when he was stressed about money.

“Nothing new,” she said.

She finished unpacking the groceries and let her mind circle the conversation with Maureen and what Detective Harding had in that journal.

On Sunday, Paige offered to help her look for new hair colors. The “Box-Dye” comment had been gnawing at Jodi since Friday, and Paige had sensed it. They grabbed lunch first at Burr’s, the local ice cream parlor and sandwich shop.

“I like that one you sent me last night,” Paige said, wiping her hands on her napkin. “It’s very Lana Del Rey.”

Jodi tore her gaze away from a flyer on the table, announcing an art contest for twelve- to eighteen-year-olds. The winner just got their art hung at Burr’s, but she still thought it was probably a long shot.

“Yeah, I just want it to look more natural.”

“Totally.” Paige pulled out her phone to take her “after” picture in her Instagram “before and after” foodie challenge. “Ugh, the hell is up with this?”

“What is it?”

“Every time I take pictures of food it’s good, but when I take pics of a person”—she lifted her phone for a quick snap of Jodi mid-bite—“there’s this freaking shadow.”

Paige turned her phone around. Behind the image of Jodi, there was a flare of light, like a reflection off glass. Jodi turned around, but there was nothing there. “Huh. You know, Lucy’s pictures had the same thing the other day.”

“Really?” Paige’s eyes snapped up to her. “Which ones?”

“From the Vallow party. There’s this flare…”

She flipped to the pictures and extended her phone to Paige.

Jodi pushed her thumb against her palm. She shouldn’t have mentioned it. Paige could fixate on small details like a conspiracy theorist. Her aunt saw a medium, so sometimes she thought she was an expert in “the weird.”

She watched Paige scroll through, the color draining from her face.

“That’s so creepy,” Paige whispered. She handed Jodi’s phone back, staring off over Jodi’s shoulder. After a moment she whispered, “Do you ever think Emily’s still here?”

Jodi blinked at her, wondering if she understood her. “Here? What do you mean?”

Paige didn’t say anything for a second. Jodi watched her run her fingertips over her lips as she thought about something.

Trying to distract her, Jodi asked, “Zack invited us over later. Did you want to go?”

“Yeah,” Paige said absently. She jerked to face Jodi. “Have you gotten any weird texts?”

Jodi felt her heartbeat in her fingertips. “Yeah. On Friday, just before the cops came.”

Paige rubbed her sternum with the palm of her hand. “Can I see the number?”

Jodi grabbed her phone. Paige typed in the number into her phone when Jodi read it out, and as she hit the final seven, Jodi watched her take a shaking breath.

“What is it?”

Paige chewed on her nail, staring at her phone. “I got a text last month from that same number.”

Jodi swallowed. She kept her voice calm as she asked, “What did it say?”

“‘Are you having a nice summer?’ I thought it was a wrong number, obviously.”

“Maybe it’s someone who changed their number and forgot to let us know,” Jodi said.

Paige nodded slowly, staring out the side window at the busy boulevard. “Yeah. Maybe.”

Jodi’s phone buzzed. There, under her last text, appeared the words:

This one will look great on you, and a link to an auburn brown hair dye.

Jodi’s heart skipped. Paige read the text upside down, and her breath caught on a gasp.

Paige stood from the booth suddenly, her eyes whipping around the shop. Jodi looked, too. Only three other people inside, and none of them familiar.

Jodi stared at the message. “How did—”

“We have to go,” Paige interrupted, her voice thin. “She’s—Let’s go.”

Before Jodi could ask her what she meant, Paige was out of the booth and zipping toward the door. Jodi grabbed her things and tried to keep up. Instead of heading to the car, Paige moved quickly down the sidewalk, eyes wild.

“Where are you going?” Jodi asked, her short legs pumping to match her pace.

“Away. Someone was watching us. She was watching us—”

“Paige, stop!” Jodi grabbed her arm and dragged her under the awning for a doctor’s office. “Stop! Just take a breath!”

“I can’t!” Her eyes were wild. “I can’t breathe , Jodi. Every morning, I wake up and it feels like something is pressing on my chest. I went to my doctor. I don’t have asthma. I tried Lucy’s inhaler, and it doesn’t help!” Tears streamed down her cheeks, and Jodi’s limbs were frozen as she watched strong, brilliant Paige Montgomery sob like a child. “It feels—it feels like she’s there , Jodi. Like I wake up and she’s there . With me. She’s leaning on me, or sitting on me”—a rattling gasp—“ watching me.”

Jodi’s fingertips pressed into Paige’s arms, anchoring her. “Okay. Okay, I get it. You’re freaked out. But Paige, the texts aren’t from her. Someone is messing with us.”

Jodi pulled out her phone to look at the text again. As Paige’s mascara smeared and her breath caught, anger boiled in Jodi’s gut. She opened the contact and hit the call button.

It rang and rang. After ten rings, Jodi gave up, frowning.

Paige was taking huge calming breaths and blowing them out slowly, leaning against the dirty brick wall.

“Let’s go home. Or go get some coffee or something.”

“No,” Paige whined. “Your hair dye.”

“I don’t care about that. And I don’t think we should be going anywhere near that beauty supply store today. Not if someone is watching us.”

Paige nodded and, in a flash, she pulled Jodi into a tight hug. “Don’t tell anyone, okay? About my chest?” she whispered.

Jodi’s skin warmed. She was trusted—given this moment to hold, just for the two of them.

“Of course.”

Paige drove them over to Zack’s after, and by the time they punched in the gate code and coasted down the driveway, Jodi could tell Paige had buried her breakdown deep.

The Thrashers lived in one of those houses that you couldn’t really believe existed outside of television. There was a fountain in front, a pool out back, and six bedrooms in between. Paige parked in the circular driveway, and they walked around to the side door.

Zack was at the kitchen island with his tutor, a UC Davis student who disliked interruptions, especially when they were Jodi. They knocked on the glass, and Zack was all too happy to jump up from the counter and let them in. The tutor glared at them.

“Hi, Peter Kim!” Paige said with a cheery wave. Peter’s jaw twitched.

“I didn’t know you had tutoring today,” Jodi said, sliding the door closed behind her.

“Neither did I. Dad wants me to do three times a week if I still can’t pass chemistry after the summer session.”

“Which doesn’t seem likely,” Peter said flatly, turning pages in the textbook.

Zack rolled his eyes. “I’ll be done in half an hour. Go hang by the pool. Julian’s out there.”

“Oh, wonderful,” Jodi said drily.

“Can I grab one of Katherine’s swimsuits?” Paige said, already heading toward the stairs for Zack’s older sister’s room.

“Yep.”

Jodi stood awkwardly, wanting to wait for Paige to come back before heading outside to be alone with Julian. Peter sent her a pointed glare, and she sighed. Jodi dropped her bag by the door and headed out back.

The Thrashers’ pool sparkled in the afternoon sun. Lounge chairs lined the sides, and there was a rock waterfall next to the diving board. And in the water—in an inflatable yellow duck with sunglasses—sat Julian Hollister, also in sunglasses, a bored look on his face and an iced tea in his hand.

“Don’t you have your own pool to float in?” she bit out.

He tilted his sunglasses down and said, “How’s life at the community pool?”

She dropped down on the lawn chair, about to argue that she didn’t use any pool, if she could help it, but Julian was already paddling the water, turning the duck around and away from her. She was just opening Instagram when her name was called. Zack’s stepmom was flip-flopping her way down the steps, smiling at her.

Charity had married Mr. Thrasher when Zack was ten, but they’d been dating since his divorce—since before his divorce, probably. She was nice enough, but she usually tried too hard.

“Jodi, baby! Paige said you were here.” She pulled Jodi into a tight hug. “I brought one of Katherine’s suits downstairs for you, too.”

Jodi looked down to find the eldest Thrasher sibling’s two-piece swimsuit in Charity’s hand, and her throat went dry in panic.

“No, ah—thank you, no, but I can’t really—”

“Jodi, baby.” Charity leaned into her, and Jodi could smell the mimosas on her breath. “You’ll only have this body once. Flaunt it!” She squeezed her shoulder and raised her voice. “Besides, Julian doesn’t mind if it’s a little tight, do you?”

Jodi was hot all over when Julian paddled his inflatable duck back around with a curious expression. “Not—at—all,” he said slowly.

Charity pointed her to the pool house and gave her a shove. Jodi trudged inside to the bathroom and laid the swimsuit out next to the sink, glaring down at the offensive neon green pieces. Katherine Thrasher wasn’t as small as Lucy and Paige, but she definitely could wear a two-piece when Jodi could not. Should not, more accurately.

She pinched her eyes shut and pulled on the bikini. The bottoms barely covered her backside, and the top had fluttery fabric on the front that she would have made fun of in the Target aisle. She stomped her way out the door, refusing to look in the full-length mirror, and sprayed herself down with sticky sunscreen. She returned to the pool to find Julian doing laps and Paige now in the inflatable duck. Dropping into one of the pool chairs, Jodi tried to find a way to sit that didn’t show too much thigh and settled in to scroll her phone while Julian went back and forth in front of her.

“Jodi’s in a swimsuit?”

Her head whipped to the back door as Lucy slid it open. She was in a bikini top and denim shorts. Jodi felt on display, too seen.

“Charity forced it on me,” Jodi said.

Lucy already had a glass bottle of Coke in her hand—her favorite drink in the world. Not Coke in a can. Not Coke in plastic. The Coke bottles from Mexico only. The Thrashers kept their fridge stocked with it for whenever Lucy came over.

“You look hot,” Lucy said, setting her drink on the table next to Jodi’s chair.

“Thanks.” Jodi refrained from covering up her stomach, as Lucy stripped out of her jean shorts to reveal her polka-dot bikini underneath.

“Hey, I have to show you something.” Lucy thumbed through her apps before turning her phone to face Jodi. “One of Reagan’s acolytes was there on Friday night. They recorded it all and sent it to her.” Reagan Matthews was Lucy’s mortal enemy. They used to be friends in eighth grade, but now they tried to ruin each other at any opportunity.

Jodi saw herself on the screen, trailing behind Zack and the cop. The video caught them being loaded into the back of the cruiser. The caption read oh how the mighty have fallen. It had twenty thousand views. Jodi sighed and rubbed her brow.

“It’s okay,” Lucy said softly. “It’ll be old news soon.” She placed a warm hand on Jodi’s calf, and Jodi smiled weakly at her.

She glanced at Paige before asking, “Did you get any weird texts on Friday? I got one from an unknown number. It just said ‘are you having a nice summer?’”

Paige looked at Jodi from behind her sunglasses.

Julian appeared in front of them at the pool edge. “Wow. Extremely threatening.”

Jodi ignored him. “Maybe it’s nothing, but it was right before the cops came.”

Lucy stood. “I delete spam texts as soon as they come in, but I’ll watch for weird ones.” She held up her phone. “I’m gonna show the video to Greg, in case it’s useful.”

Jodi watched her walk back into the house and wondered if she should tell them about running into Maureen Mills. Normally, she would have texted the group chat immediately, but what they could and could not put in writing was still a gray area. Did Greg Thrasher need to know that Detective Harding had Emily’s journal? Or was she jumping to conclusions?

Her thoughts were abruptly halted when Julian pulled himself up onto the cement in front of her, even though there was a pool ladder ten feet away. Jodi frowned at the flexing muscles in his torso. He stood before her chair and shook his hair out, making sure to send water her way.

“You wanna get wet, Dillon?”

She narrowed her eyes at the dumb innuendo.

He brought a hand to his eyes and winced dramatically. “I’ve never seen this much of your skin. It’s blinding.”

Bringing her arms up to cover her stomach, Jodi clenched her jaw. “What do you want?”

He sat on the edge of her lounge chair. “Do you wanna swim?”

“No.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in the pool.” He flashed her a grin. “Come on.” Her phone was ripped from her hand and tossed into the grass. Before she could blink, two wet arms wrapped around her middle and lifted her clean off the lounge chair.

“Julian!” she squawked, but then she was upside down over his shoulder.

She saw the water. Her muscles locked in fear, and then she was midair, free-falling toward the deep end. She screamed all the way down until the sound of it disappeared and only the slosh was in her ears.

Her limbs froze. Her hair billowed forward around her face as her body sank down, down. The sun sparkled millions of miles away, breaking through the water like crystals, and she knew that was the surface—she did. She knew she could kick up to it.

But how was she supposed to get there with lead on her bones and water in her lungs?

The sun winked at her. Its rays spun outward like golden hair on a girl’s head. The sky was pale blue, like a pair of eyes.