Chapter 2

The next morning, I don't want to leave my room.

But before eight, the pounding starts.

"Birdie! Get up, we're going snorkeling!"

Sienna's voice sings through the door.

I don't answer.

A second later, the key card beeps and the lock clicks open.

All four of them come crashing in.

Caleb yanks the comforter off my bed and hauls me up by the arm.

"Let's go, Birdie. Boat leaves in an hour."

I look down at my knee.

The cut from last night has crusted over, blood and grit dried into the fabric of my sweats. When I shift my leg, the material peels off the scab and I suck in a breath.

"I'm not going."

The room goes quiet.

Miles leans against the wall, keeping it light. "Oh come on. Who's gonna take our pictures?"

Jax walks over and crouches down. He glances at my knee for maybe half a second.

"Babe. It's a scrape. You can walk."

Then he finally pulls a Band-Aid out of his pocket and sticks it over the whole mess like that fixes anything. Ruffles my hair.

"Don't do this to me. If you stay back, the whole trip's ruined."

Something in my chest caves in.

I go.

At the marina, the guide passes out the snorkel wristbands.

Four of them.

Sienna grabs the first one and slides it onto her wrist, waving it in the sun.

"God, this color is so ugly."

She doesn't take it off.

I ask the guide why there are only four. In broken English, he shrugs. "You book four-person package."

Jax jumps in first. "Wren, with your knee, we didn't think you should be in saltwater. So we didn't add you."

Caleb nods like it's settled. "Saltwater on an open cut? You'd get infected in a second. Just hang out on the beach. Watch our stuff."

Miles pushes the GoPro into my hands with a lazy grin.

"You take the best photos anyway, Birdie. Can't wait to see what you get."

They start suiting up.

Jax holds Sienna's shoulder steady while she steps into her fins. Caleb tightens the straps on her vest. Miles films the whole thing on his phone, hyping her up like she's about to walk a runway.

I stand there frozen, their beach bags, the GoPro, four pairs of flip-flops, and a bottle of SPF stacked in my arms.

Sienna, fully geared up, runs down to the water and spins around.

"Birdie! Film me! I want that wild windswept girl vibe!"

I lift the camera. Through the lens, she's laughing like the day was made for her.

A second later, the other three crowd into frame.

"Group shot! First-ever snorkel squad!"

I press record.

Maybe it's just the sea wind.

My eyes burn.

At the restaurant on the island, I sit at a chair pulled up to the corner of their table for four, listening to them talk over each other about everything they saw underwater.

The server brings out a few small plates. Shrimp tacos. Rice. And a dish of chicken skewers in a thick, dark peanut mole, with crushed peanuts sprinkled on top.

Sienna picks up a dripping skewer and holds it right up to my mouth.

"Birdie, you have to try this, it's insane."

I jerk back.

"I have a nut allergy."

Her hand stops. Her smile thins.

"Wait, what? Since when? I had no idea."

I look at her.

"You know."

I was fifteen. Nurse's office. She was sitting right outside the door, swinging her legs and crunching into an apple.

She'd laughed when she heard. "Aw. You're already a little birdie, and now you can't even eat nuts?"

Now she tilts her head, playing dumb.

"I honestly don't remember."

Jax finally frowns. At me.

"Babe. That was forever ago. Nobody's gonna remember something that specific."

Caleb picks up the skewer and sets it back on Sienna's plate.

"She's being dramatic. Ignore it."

Miles grins at me like I'm five.

"Birdie. You're just pouting 'cause you didn't get to swim, huh?"

I don't bother explaining.

In the car on the way back, Sienna falls asleep on Jax's shoulder.

My white first-aid kit is tucked inside the beach bag on her lap. The zipper is open just enough that I can see the corner of it.

I reach for it.

Her eyes are closed. But somehow her fingers tighten around the strap the second my hand gets close.

Jax murmurs, "Don't wake her up."

I pull my hand back.

Outside the window, the ocean lights up flat and still, cold as a sheet of glass.