Destined

Panic only makes the end come quicker. People thrash. They gasp for air and get water instead, then cough it out and gulp in even more. Corinthe had seen it happen before, to a man who had swum out too far. Despite the crowd on the beach, Corinthe was the only one to notice him flail. She’d done nothing except shield her eyes from the sun and watch quietly. She remembered the relief she felt when the man finally disappeared under the surface.

It wasn’t that he deserved to die.

It was that his death had been fated.

Tonight she stood just out of the water’s reach, relishing the feel of the gritty sand under her feet. The current at Point Reyes was fierce, and in the past year, five people had already lost their lives on this stretch of beach. Huge signs warned of strong undercurrents, and people heeded them as best they could. But accidents happened. One would happen tonight.

Party noises floated down from the bluff—laughing, talking, the thumping beat of music—but Corinthe tuned it all out. She would be there soon enough. Instead she focused on the crashing waves and imagined the darkness taking shape and cocooning her. She longed to stay here all night, but there was no time. She crouched low and touched the wet sand, reassured by the calming energy of the earth. The emerald ring on her finger glinted in the moonlight.

Corinthe had come directly to the beach. She needed to double-check, then triple-check, that everything was in order. Nothing could be left to chance. She trudged through sand and driftwood to the small motorboat just past the pier. The little boat was ten feet across and
fast
. When she’d found out about tonight’s party a few nights back, she’d snuck out here and taken it for a ride—a test drive. It was small and inconspicuous, but powerful and effective.

It was tied with a slack rope to a large wooden post jutting out of the sand. Corinthe
ran her fingers along the sturdy anchor line. It was as thick as her wrist, made of rough, braided fiber. She threw aside the purple ballerina flats she was holding, then positioned herself behind the little boat and waited for a wave to crash. It was high tide, and water rushed up the sand forcefully; as it receded, she pushed the boat toward the ocean and let the current do its work. The boat was carried a few feet offshore, bobbing up and down in the water. The line was pulled taut now, and the wooden post groaned under the stress.

The music from above changed, and Corinthe overheard snippets of “Happy Birthday.” She turned and looked toward the party. Decorative lights lined the wooden railing at the edge of the cliff, and she could just make out the silhouettes of those who were singing “Happy birthday, dear Ava …”

All these people had come here for Ava Vanguard.

Corinthe certainly had.

She faced the ocean again. The sky was clear and the air was warm and still. Corinthe slipped out of her silk floral-patterned dress that cinched at the waist, letting it fall to the sand. Underneath she wore a black one-piece bathing suit that dipped low on her back. She twisted her blond hair into a bun and waded into the water, steadying the boat and stepping into it carefully. As it bobbed, she stayed low and made her way to the back, where the outboard motor was mounted. She reached for the thin string hanging from the motor and gave it a strong tug—but it broke off in her hand just as a freak gust of wind blew in and carried it away. It skittered into the foamy waves and was lost.

No
. Corinthe caught her breath. She hurdled the edge of the boat into the water, scanning the surface with her gray eyes. She thrashed at the foam, hoping to catch a glimpse of the string, then dove in and reached out in front of her, desperately grasping at nothing. It was gone. She popped up out of the water, her breaths shallow and quick. She pulled the wet hair from her face, willing her heart to slow. Fate had already gone awry; the plan had been compromised.

Corinthe waded back to the boat, circling it to get a closer look at the motor. In the darkness, she reached her hand underneath and found two pieces of exposed metal side by side. Each was the size of a playing card, with a small circle cut out of the center. Remnant pieces of string were still threaded through the circles.

Remnants of the string she had just broken.

She pulled and pushed the pieces of metal every which way, but she couldn’t get the right grip or angle to jump-start the ignition. When the string was pulled, the two circles lined up perfectly and slid the respective metal pieces into place. She needed a chain or string, thin enough to fit through the circles and strong enough to help click the two metal pieces into place.

Would every part of her plan have some unexpected complication? She slapped the surface of the water, hard, and felt a sting travel up her arm. It was as if the Unseen Ones had sent the wind themselves, testing her resourcefulness.

She balled her hands into fists and immediately felt regret. Of course that wasn’t true; the Unseen Ones believed in order, in efficient execution. The wind hadn’t been sent by divine forces. It had just been bad luck—something that happens to humans all the time. And hadn’t she been here to double-check, then triple-check, that everything was in order? It was better to find out sooner rather than later, once the girl was in position.

She walked back to the beach and wrung her hair out, then finger-combed it as best she could. She picked up the dress she’d left behind on the sand, slipped into it, and dug her phone out of her pocket. It was 11:35 p.m. There wasn’t much time left. She ran down the beach and up the rickety wooden staircase that hugged the cliff and led up to the party. At the top of the stairs, a sandy path wound around a gazebo that opened up into the backyard.

A pool was lit up by underwater lights, and girls were just starting to peel off their glittery tops and skinny jeans to jump in, some having thought to bring bathing suits and others wearing only their underwear and bras. Their heels littered the edge of the pool, and
Corinthe could see that one had even fallen into the nearby Jacuzzi. On the far side of the pool, a crowd of bodies gyrated to the thumping beat coming from the speakers set up in the gazebo.

Corinthe popped into the little hut, certain she’d find an auxiliary cord—but there was none. The music was being played wirelessly, likely from someone’s phone, and the only cord in sight ran between two speakers. To test her luck she tugged at it, and the music went silent.

People on the dance floor groaned and shot glances in her direction. Casey Herman, part of the AV crew, hopped out of the pool and started to dry off.

“What happened?” he asked. He had red hair and a crooked grin. He plugged the cord back in and the music started up again, followed immediately by cheers and squeals.

“Sorry,” Corinthe said. “I was just looking for something.…”

She scanned the crowd, noticing all the necklaces, dangly earrings, and shoelaces—but then her gaze settled on Ava. The pretty brunette was standing with two other girls on the patio near the bar. She was wearing a silky black maxidress and a cropped gray sweater, her wavy hair braided loosely to the side and tied with a silk ribbon. Her friends were shorter, and one of them teetered on platform wedges, twisting her curly black hair. The other, in a short, flouncy pink dress, was telling them an animated story, her eyes wide. Ava sipped from a clear glass bottle while feigning interest in what the girl in the pink dress was saying. Even from a distance Corinthe was certain it was sparkling water—Ava’s favorite. She knew it the way she knew Ava wanted to major in law and volunteered at a senior citizens’ center in the Mission on Tuesday afternoons.

Since enrolling at Franklin High last week, Corinthe had made a habit of studying Ava. She’d learned everything she could about the girl—her habits, her friends, her dreams.

And the people she kept close.

Corinthe watched as Ava’s boyfriend, Nate Halley, walked up to her and wound his arm around her waist. He looked like a giant standing next to her; he was a whole foot taller
and was wearing a blue barracuda jacket with red flannel lining. Pulling Ava away from her friends, he called something over his shoulder with a wide, loopy smile on his face.

“Grow up, Nate!” the girl in the pink dress yelled back.

Ava shook her head and swatted his arm away. She looked upset.

Corinthe snaked through the crowd and headed toward the patio. The property was huge. It belonged to Ava’s good friend, Jared Evans, a senior at Franklin High whose family owned as many tech companies as houses. It was a half-hour drive from the city, and during lunch Corinthe had overheard Robbie Annenburg, a junior on the wrestling team, mention that no one was planning to head back home tonight. “Everyone is gonna end up shitfaced on the free booze … plus, there’s like a million bedrooms to crash in.”

Now Corinthe watched as Robbie scooped up a petite freshman and threw her over his shoulder. He was short, but Corinthe could tell he was muscular. “Someone dare me to do it!” he yelled as he moved closer to the pool.

The girl giggled and shook her head, reaching behind to pull down the hem of her striped blue and white dress.

“
I
dare you!” someone called from the patio.

“One, two …” On the count of three Robbie jumped in, causing those nearby to dodge the splashing water. People laughed and cheered all around her, and Corinthe tried hard to blend in, which always proved difficult given her long blond hair and striking gray eyes. She bent her head down and kept moving. It was best not to be remembered.

Walking up the three short steps to the patio, Corinthe crossed paths with Owen Miller. He had a kind face and wore black-framed glasses that were just large enough to seem out of place but not quite big enough to be hipster-cool. His dirty-blond hair brushed against his shirt collar. She knew exactly how it curled up in the back because she sat behind him in third period.