Truth or Dare (9 page)

“You need this win, Caitlin,” her mom went on. “We can’t have your cousin Theresa at Harvard and not you!”

“I know.” Caitlin tipped her mug back, gulping down the last of her coffee. Her heart was starting to feel like an old clock being wound up, ticking faster and faster. “I plan on winning,” she said. Then she backed out of the room before her mom could utter the word
Harvard
even one more time.

Sailor came bounding after her as she headed out to the porch. She scooped him up and went straight to the wicker swing, the best seat in the house in Caitlin’s opinion. She loved to sit there during low tide, watching the ocean split apart at the seams, strips of sand emerging like pathways to the horizon. At the very height of low tide, you could even see the tip of the Phantom Rock from there.

Okay
, she thought.
Slogan time.
Sailor curled up in her lap as she leaned back against the swing, thinking.

A vote for Cait is a vote for great?

Vote Cait because she can relate?

It’s fate—vote for Cait?

She sighed. Bad, terrible, and worse. In front of her, waves trailed lines of salt through the sand as the ocean tugged steadily at the shore. The sound was gentle and soothing, like a lullaby. It was her favorite thing about living on Dune Way, how close her house was to the ocean. Tenley’s new house was a couple of blocks down, where the houses were
bigger and more extravagant. But at Caitlin’s end of Dune Way the homes curved in closer toward the beach—and she’d choose that over extra rooms and a pool any day of the week.

At night, with her window open, she could hear the surge of the ocean from her bed. Sometimes, listening to its whispers was the only way she could fall asleep. As the swing rocked back and forth, back and forth, she could hear the whispers now. Wordless voices circling her, stroking her, lulling her…

Ring! Ring! Ring!

Caitlin jumped awake, her heart pounding wildly in her chest. For one terrible second, she thought she was having another nightmare: She’d turn around and there would be the red basement. But then Sailor nudged his cold nose into her leg and she remembered where she was. She rubbed at her eyes, getting her bearings. She was on the porch swing with Sailor. That awful ringing was coming from her cell phone. She grabbed for it, wincing when she saw the time. “I’m on my way,” she told Emerson, sliding hurriedly off the swing.

“About time. I was starting to think I’d have to give your seat away to Abby Wilkins.”

“So not funny, Em.” Caitlin jogged inside, grabbing her purse. “I’ll be there in ten minutes, max.”

But ten minutes later, as Caitlin sat in stopped traffic on Ocean Drive, she realized with a sinking heart what day it was. Every year on the Sunday and Monday of Labor Day weekend, Echo Bay turned into one big game of bumper cars as the summerers all went home. Caitlin stuck her head out the window. Ocean Drive’s single lane was backed up for as far as she could see. Letting out a groan, she tapped her fingers impatiently against the wheel. She could just picture Emerson all alone at their table, her coffee getting colder by the minute….

In front of her, a black Lexus stopped short, making her slam on her brakes. “Eyes on the road,” she mumbled under her breath. It was something her mom always said when she was driving, and Caitlin cringed at the sound of those words coming from her mouth.

As if on cue, the passenger in the backseat of the Lexus whipped around, his eyes landing on her. Caitlin swallowed hard. It was Joey Bakersfield. He was in his standard uniform of a zip-up hoodie, even though it was still seventy degrees out, and his long, sandy-colored hair hung halfway into his face. Caitlin’s cheeks burned a little. She smiled, but like usual, he didn’t smile back.

Caitlin gave him a small wave, but still he didn’t react. He just kept staring at her, unblinking. Uncomfortable, Caitlin averted her glance, focusing instead on the milky line of the horizon. When she looked back at the Lexus, Joey had turned around.

Twenty-five minutes later, Caitlin finally made it to the Club. Brushing past one of the pool-deck waitresses—that girl in her grade, Sydney, who carried a camera everywhere—Caitlin hurried over to the window table where she and Emerson sat every Sunday. Despite the late party last night, Emerson looked perfect, as always. Her hazel eyes were shining, she was wearing a strapless green cotton dress that cinched at her tiny waist, and she’d pulled her hair back into a tight, sleek ponytail, her go-to look for when she didn’t want to deal with straightening it. Caitlin looked down at her own jean skirt and peasant T-shirt, which had several clumps of dog fur clinging to it. She usually changed after her shift at the shelter, but she’d completely forgotten today.

“About time,” Emerson said as Caitlin dropped into her seat.

“I’m so sorry,” Caitlin said breathlessly. “I totally forgot it was the start of the tourist migration.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Emerson grumbled. She gestured toward the large
plate sitting in the middle of the table. It was their usual: one Whole Shebang Omelet, two forks. “Lucky for you, I planned ahead.”

Grabbing a fork, Caitlin speared a bite of omelet. “You’re the best.”

“I know,” Emerson said.

“Okay, before you say anything else, you have to tell me: What do you think of this slogan?” Caitlin held a hand up for silence. “Want miracles? Vote for an Angel.” It had been the only good thing about the traffic; it had given her more time to brainstorm a slogan. “Is it too much?”

Emerson shook her head, signaling to the waitress to bring Caitlin some coffee. “No, it’s great. You should totally play up the angel card.”

Caitlin felt a blush creeping onto her cheeks and she quickly ducked her head. The truth was, she hated her Angel nickname. It made her sound like Little Miss Perfect, which sometimes was the last thing she felt like. But she wanted desperately to win this election—even if it meant parading around her wings as if she deserved them.

“Great enough to beat her?” Caitlin nodded toward the window, where Abby Wilkins was heading toward the tennis courts. Her white skirt was pressed and spotless and her stick-straight brown hair looked as though it had been brushed for at least an hour.

“Abby ‘I Won’t Hold Hands with a Guy Until Marriage’ Wilkins? I’ll draw the horns on her posters myself,” Emerson promised. “Now enough school talk.” She pointed her fork at Caitlin. “What
I
want to talk about is the party—and Tenley. I’ve got to ask, Cait. Is she always like that?”

“Always like what?” Caitlin asked, fiddling with her coffee mug.

“You know. Intense. Teeth baring. Like a mama grizzly bear protecting its cub.”

Caitlin laughed, smacking Emerson playfully on the arm. “She’s just loyal, Em. Once you get past all that stuff, you’ll love her. I promise.”

“If she doesn’t go straight for my jugular first.” Emerson was grinning as she said it, but there was a strange note in her voice.

“So, have the cheer votes come in yet?” she asked, swiftly changing the subject. She knew she should defend Tenley, but honestly, Emerson wasn’t that off-base. Tenley didn’t do anything halfway. She hated her enemies as fiercely as she loved her friends. Which was why Caitlin knew she had to make sure Tenley and Emerson ended up as friends—and nothing less.

Emerson picked at her napkin, tearing it into tiny shreds. “They did….”

Caitlin’s heart sank. “Tricia?” she asked softly, even though she already knew the answer.

Emerson gave an almost imperceptible nod of her head. “A lot of the girls still wanted you in spite of the fall. But Jessie insisted we needed a good tumbler… And as much as I hate it, she’s the captain.” Emerson crumpled her torn napkin into a tight ball. “But,” she added quickly, “the instant someone drops off the squad, you’re in.
That
everyone agreed on.”

“Great,” Caitlin said weakly. Making it onto the cheer squad was like receiving a handwritten guarantee of popularity; she couldn’t remember the last time someone dropped out voluntarily. She took a big bite of her omelet. She wasn’t even sure why she cared. The last thing she needed right now was another extracurricular to stress over. Her fingers went to her temples as she remembered the way her head had throbbed yesterday… and just how desperate it had left her feeling. Desperate enough to break into her emergency pill stash. It was
probably a good thing she hadn’t made the squad. But still, she couldn’t tune out that tiny voice in her head, the one saying
You failed.

“Maybe Tricia’s aunt will come back from jail or the loony bin or wherever it was she was sent, and Tricia will go back to eating her feelings. I promise you, Cait: The second Tricia’s high splits become more like
pants
splits, you’re on the squad instead of her.”

“Em!” Caitlin scolded, trying not to laugh. “That’s awful! She’s our friend.” She was just about to say that she didn’t care about the squad when Emerson’s cell cut her off. Emerson dove for it, her hand closing tightly over the caller’s name. Caitlin knew that could only mean one thing: Mystery Man was calling.

“I’m going to take this outside….” Emerson was off her chair and out the door before Caitlin had a chance to respond. Caitlin watched through the window as Emerson pressed her phone to her ear. From the satisfied look on her face, it was clear the person on the other end of the line was saying something really nice… or really naughty. Caitlin tore her eyes away. Her
steer clear
method had served her well so far. She wasn’t about to mess things up now.

“Not in my house!” The curt words sliced through the voices and laughter and clatter of dishes around her. Caitlin looked over her shoulder to see Senator John Bailey sitting at a table with his son. It always surprised Caitlin how little Hunter Bailey looked like his dad. Whereas Hunter was defined and chiseled, his eyes a piercing blue, the senator was round and robust, with dark eyes that always seemed half-narrowed. Right now, he was leaning across the table, his hand clamped tightly over Hunter’s arm. He lowered his voice, but Caitlin still caught a few angry snippets:
responsibility
and
public
and a hiss of
Are you listening?

Hunter nodded firmly, but Caitlin would recognize that dazed look on his face anywhere. She felt a pang of sympathy for him, but
when he caught her eye, she quickly looked away. Things had been a little awkward between them ever since she pushed off his drunken attempt at a kiss on New Year’s. She didn’t want him to think she was eavesdropping.

A waitress dropped off their bill, and Caitlin reached for it absently. Hunter’s fight with his dad reminded her that she was going to have to break the news to her mom about not making the cheer squad. Sighing, Caitlin flipped open the bill holder. As she did, something fluttered out, landing softly on her lap.

It was a small square of paper. Wrinkling her forehead, Caitlin picked it up. There was a note on it, the letters boxy and faded, as if they had been typed on an old typewriter.

The best parties come out of the blue. I dare you to come on board the Blue Ribbon tonight--midnight sharp. And shhhh, don’t say a word to anyone. This party is a surprise!

Caitlin looked up sharply, her eyes going directly to Hunter’s table. The
Blue Ribbon
was the most infamous yacht in the sound, and it belonged to Hunter’s dad. Had Hunter sent this? Caitlin thought she’d made it clear that she wasn’t interested in him. But he had been really into last night’s truth or dare game. Was this his strange way of saying he wasn’t giving up on her yet? She narrowed her eyes as she watched him. He was nodding furiously at whatever his dad was saying, seemingly oblivious to Caitlin. He didn’t exactly look like someone who had just dared Caitlin to party on his yacht….

And then suddenly it hit Caitlin.

A party. A dare. This
had
to be Tenley’s handiwork.

When they were younger, Tenley used to love to keep their truth or dare games going after their sleepovers ended. At school they’d sneak notes into each other’s backpacks and gym socks and notebooks, dares scrawled across them. Those dares had been their private game for two—and Tenley had always been better at it. Once, during a school-wide assembly, Tenley had dared Caitlin to sneak into the teacher’s lounge. When she got there, she’d found Dennis Harrison, the hottest guy in the eighth grade, waiting for her. “Tenley told me to meet you here,” he’d said. The dares were one of the things Caitlin missed most when Tenley moved away; school had suddenly seemed so normal, so
dull
.

Caitlin smiled to herself. Tenley hadn’t changed one bit. She thought of how hard they’d laughed last night as they splashed in the ocean, tossing Calum’s pants back and forth. As Caitlin slipped the note into her purse, she felt a sudden burst of energy that had nothing at all to do with the caffeine.

A yacht at midnight?

What had Tenley cooked up for her this time?

Sunday, Noon

MORNING, SLEEPING BEAUTY.”

Something round and smooth bounced off Tenley’s forehead. “Arggg,” she groaned, burying her face in her arms. Her mouth felt dry, her head was pounding, and there was something hard wedged beneath her tailbone.

“Come on, little princess. Get up.”

Slowly, she forced her eyes open a crack. Guinness was standing over her, smirking as he tossed Ping-Pong balls at her head. Behind him the pool house’s floor-to-ceiling windows let the blazing afternoon sunlight pour into the room.

“What time is it?” she asked groggily.

“Noon,” Guinness said, chucking another Ping-Pong ball at her. He was wearing a pair of old mesh shorts and a slightly torn T-shirt, his dark hair a mess of waves as usual. He looked as if he’d just rolled out of bed himself, and Tenley had to resist the urge to pull him onto the
couch. “The new Mr. and Mrs. Reed will be back from brunch at the Club soon. So, being the good stepbrother I am, I thought I’d—”

“Peg me with dirty beer-pong balls?” Tenley cut in.

Guinness laughed. “Something like that.”