"Okay, fine," I said finally, feeling my resolve melt. "But first thing in the morning, I am on that plane."
27
NONTRAGIC
I took a deep breath, filling my lungs with warm, tropical air, and held it as I looked up at the blue-and-white brocade pattern of the umbrella overhead. The breeze fluttered the trim and blew the pages of Noelle's magazine over her hand. Digging my toes into the toasty sand, I let out the breath and felt relaxed for the first time all day.
"Okay, maybe you were right," I said, lifting my head from the soft beach blanket. "Maybe staying another day was a good idea."
My parents hadn't been too psyched when I'd called them, and my mother hadn't said yes until I'd sent a picture of myself to her cell phone to prove I was okay. It had, of course, taken her an hour to find the picture and open it. Cell phone technology still eludes my parents. But in the end, they had agreed to let me stay.
"Never doubt me, Reed," Noelle said blithely, lifting her strawberry kiwi smoothie and taking a sip from the straw. She languidly turned a page of Vogue and continued to read. Down the beach, I saw
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Paige, Poppy, Sienna, and Daniel, walking along, two by two. My heart caught and I instinctively curled my knees toward my chin, holding my breath as they got closer. One of those girls--most likely crazy little Poppy Simon--was trying to kill me. I was sure of it. Yet they were all friends with Noelle, so I was sure they were going to come over to say hi to her, while being fake-nice to me.
As they approached, I glanced at Noelle, whose eyes were trained on her magazine. I waited for her to lookup, to see them and greet them, but she just kept reading. And then . . . they were passing us by. I saw Paige and Sienna whisper to each other, and all four of them quickened their steps and kept walking. My heart pounded in my temples. What was that about? Any normal person would have wanted to get the gossip about the girl who had almost died at the Ryans' annual party. But then, they weren't normal. Maybe they didn't want to hear the gossip because they all knew that Poppy had pushed me, so they already knew all the details. But barring all of that, why didn't they at least stop to say hello to Noelle, their lifelong friend? I breathed in and out as they strolled farther down the beach and out of sight.
Weird. That had been totally, completely weird.
I glanced up the beach again, uncurling my legs. A guy in green board shorts and a white T-shirt was walking along the water. For a moment I thought it was Upton. Perhaps sensing that I wasn't quite ready to talk to him about everything just yet, he'd made some lame excuse to go home and promised to meet us for lunch. But one good squint and I realized I was looking at Sawyer, not Upton. I sat up and raised a hand to wave him down.
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Noelle followed my gaze, saw Sawyer, then returned to her reading. As Sawyer turned his steps up the beach, I stood and dusted the sand off the back of my shorts. He was holding a single miniature conch shell, which he toyed with as he approached.
"Hey, Reed," he said, squinting one eye. "Noelle."
"What're you doing all the way down here?" Noelle asked.
"I just wanted to come over and see how Reed was doing," Sawyer said, looking at me. "Feelingbetter?"
"Yeah," I said. "Still a little sore, but better."
His eyes flicked down at my chest. "Hey. You're wearing the necklace," he said brightly.
Noelle glanced up as my fingers flew to the shell around my neck. "Yeah. I really like it."
"Cool." Sawyer was blushing. I could feel Noelle's gaze burning into the back of my neck. "So, do you ... I mean, are you okay to take a walk? " Sawyer asked as the wind blew his shaggy blond hair over his eyes.
"Definitely," I said. I grabbed my sunglasses off the beach blanket and put them on. I didn't want to get too far away from Noelle's house, which we were currently parked in front of, but a quick walk with Sawyer wasn't going to kill me. "We'll be right back."
"I'll be right here," Noelle said, refocusing on the magazine.
Sawyer and I walked down to the wet sand, where cool water lapped at our feet. He fiddled with his shell as we continued on down the beach.
"Listen, I wanted to thank you again," I said, biting my lip.
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He reddened and shook his head. "You don't have to--"
"No. Not just for the dramatic rescue thing," I said with a laugh. "For sayingyou believe me about being pushed off the boat."
Sawyer's head snapped up. "I wasn't just saying that. I do believe you."
"I know. So thanks. I don't think anyone else really does," I told him, curling my toes into the wet, sloppy sand with each step.