Wrecked (17 page)

I
T WAS
H
ALLOWEEN, AND
G
EN APPEARED AT THE DOOR
wearing a silver-sequined bikini, her hair covered in silver glitter. Black eyeliner lined her lips and eyes, and plastic vampire fangs were capped on her teeth.

Miranda opened the door and ushered her in. “What the hell?” Miranda asked, surveying Gen’s homemade attempt at a costume. They were supposed to head to Fletch’s for a party that even kids from the mainland were attending. That, in itself, was exciting—usually kids from the mainland didn’t come to Whym parties because once they came, they were at the mercy of the ferry schedule and unable to leave, even if they got a text that a better party was occurring somewhere else.

“Guess what I am?” Gen asked, raising her eyebrow.

“Someone who caught onto the vampire trend a few years too late?
I have no idea,” Miranda said, smiling and waiting for Gen to accuse her of not having any imagination, which was an insult Gen lobbed at her at least once a week.

“No, and of course you wouldn’t guess. You’re barely wearing a costume. Where’s your Halloween spirit?” Gen asked rhetorically.

“Well, I would have worn something more festive, but someone beat me to the glitter,” Miranda said, looking down at her own mermaid costume, which was simply a bikini, with a tail fashioned haphazardly out of an ugly old purple satin dress Eleanor had once bought her. Miranda had had a feeling she’d ditch the tail pretty much as soon as they got down to the beach.

“Whatever. Boring. You’re supposed to be a mermaid. Sex it up. The Sea Witch should
not
be sexier than a mermaid!” Gen said in mock horror.

“Is that what you are? Because you’re pretty sexy. I can’t compete!” Miranda rolled her eyes, knowing Genevieve was loving the attention.

“Let’s just hope Matt White has a thing for witches,” Gen smiled, flashing her fangs. Since Valentine’s Day, Gen had had an on-again, off-again flirtation with Matt, a sophomore mainlander.

“So you can kiss him, or bite him?” Miranda asked. “And since when is the sea witch part vampire?” she’d asked, closing the door behind her and following Gen to the BMW parked in the gravel driveway.

“It’s called artistic license,” Gen explained. “And maybe if Matt doesn’t kiss me, then I’ll bite him. I haven’t decided yet.”

They quickly reached the beach behind Fletch’s house, where a bonfire
was burning in the center of the sand. Kids were laughing, dancing, drinking. Immediately, Matt had emerged from the crowd and slipped his arm around Gen’s waist.

Gen raised her eyebrow at Miranda, when all of a sudden, the sand beneath them began shaking and slipping, as if an earthquake beneath the sea was occurring. Miranda fell to her knees as she saw the ocean in front of them part, and a large figure, with snakes for hair and bright violet eyes, emerged from the water, stepping closer and closer to shore. People screamed as the figure lurched toward the shore. As it opened its mouth, it seemed to be calling Miranda’s name. Then, in a flash, the figure’s face turned into the face of the boy she’d met on the beach. He continued to approach her, and Miranda continued to scream, but at the same time, she wasn’t sure whether she was supposed to run toward him or away from him . . .

“Miranda?”

Miranda sat up and wildly glanced around, but all she could see was the light of the moon casting a small sliver of light across the dusty pink duvet.

Just a nightmare.
But it had been so weird. It had started out so normally. Then it had turned horrible, especially with that
figure
burned into her subconscious. What the hell was that?

“Teddy?” Miranda called, turning on her bedside lamp and pulling Fletch’s sweatshirt over her head, even though her face was slick with sweat. It was only nine o’clock, but it felt like the middle of the night.

“I’m fine,” Miranda whispered, trying to reassure herself. After all, she was far away from the ocean. Everything was the same as it had always been. She and Eleanor had had a fight, she’d gone swimming, and she’d finally fallen asleep on top of her comforter, without bothering to change out of her clothes. That was all.

Teddy rushed in. “Are you okay? You were screaming,” he said.

“I’m fine.” Miranda sat up and yanked her hand through her hair.

“Are you sure?” Teddy asked, sitting gingerly on the edge of the bed. “Because you freaked out at Chapel. It was the only thing people were talking about.” Concern was evident in Teddy’s large brown eyes. “And then when Grandma got home, she said you yelled at her and then disappeared. She’s really worried. And honestly, I’m freaked about you, too. You’re being weird,” Teddy said, smiling wanly, obviously using one of the insults they used to lob at each other without thinking to try to lighten the mood. Not like it worked. She
was
being weird. But she didn’t know how to fix it.

She couldn’t believe Teddy, the boy who used to be afraid of the dark and carry around his rubber giraffe everywhere, had turned into the glue that was holding the family together.

“I think I deserve to act a little weird. And I didn’t mean to freak at Grandma. I just can’t deal sometimes. It’s like she thinks if we don’t say anything about the accident, it’s like it
didn’t happen. She’s just sometimes
so
out of touch that it makes me want to scream. But then she always wants me to visit Fletch . . . it’s like she cares more about how we appear to outsiders than how I feel.” Miranda shrugged.

“That sucks,” Teddy said finally.

Miranda laughed sharply. “I don’t really blame her,” she said, knowing she sounded more and more unbalanced the more she spoke. “Everyone thinks it’s my fault. They really do. Gray pretty much told me that.”

“Who cares what people think? It wasn’t like you
killed
anyone. It was an accident.” Teddy shrugged. “People are idiots.”

“Statement of the year,” Miranda agreed.

“But you shouldn’t feel guilty because they’re being idiots. It doesn’t make sense.”

“I know,” Miranda said sharply, flopping back on the bed and gazing out the picture window. In the moonlight, she could just see the
Sephie
in the distance, rocking back and forth on the calm ocean. She wondered if Coral was on board, and what she did there, all day by herself. From a distance, she couldn’t tell if the ship was emblematic of freedom or imprisonment, which was why it was so creepy. It reminded her of one of those nineteenth-century Romantic landscapes they’d discussed last year in art history. Ms. Kendal, the art history teacher at Calhoun, had said the preoccupation with ships at sea was a way to illustrate the uneasy power play between nature versus free will in the form of industrialization exerting
control over the environment. More than one hundred years later, and the score was pretty clear, at least when it came to Miranda’s personal experience: Nature, 2, Miranda, 0. Maybe it all meant that Miranda should get the hell off the island and move somewhere away from the ocean and boats.

“Everyone really hates me,” Miranda said quietly, tearing her gaze away from the ocean.

Teddy opened his mouth as if to protest, then closed it again.

“It’s okay. It’s the truth,” Miranda said, realizing it even as she spoke. A feeling of calm washed over her. At least that was something concrete, real. “You should go back to bed,” she said finally. She couldn’t stand the frightened, nervous way Teddy was looking out for her, as if he thought she’d snap any moment. He might be right, but if she was about to have a mental breakdown, she didn’t need her brother as a witness.

Miranda noticed the hurt in Teddy’s eyes. “I’m fine, really,” she said. As weird as it seemed, she wanted to fall back asleep. As awful as they were, each nightmare seemed to give her some type of clue into the accident. It was just that she couldn’t figure out what they meant.

“Pinky swear?” Teddy asked, holding out his hand.

Miranda smiled as she hooked her finger with Teddy’s; their tacit agreement as binding as when they were kids and used to pinky swear not to tell Louisa when they caught each other sneaking cookies from the kitchen, and, when they were older, sneaking alcohol from Eleanor’s liquor cabinet.

“If you’re sure,” Teddy said, and slipped out of the room, lightly closing the door. As soon as he left, Miranda closed her eyes, desperate to sleep. But all she could think of were the haunting blue eyes of the stranger on the beach. He hadn’t been a hallucination, she was sure of that. It was the only thing she
was
sure of.

Right as the sun rose, she finally fell into a restless sleep, where the only thing she knew was that she
had
to somehow see him again.

R
ED SKY AT NIGHT, SAILORS’ DELIGHT
. R
ED SKY AT
morning, sailors take warning.

Miranda snorted as she gazed at the sun, still rising behind the ferry. It was definitely red. Miranda wondered if the superstition also applied to hellish days at school. Although she didn’t need a prophecy to let her know that today was going to suck.

She’d begun the day in her uniform, if only to prove to Teddy, Eleanor, and even Headmistress Wyar that it didn’t matter whether or not she was trying, the end result would be the same—people hated her. But with her plaid skirt, her mottled scar was clearly visible, obvious even though it was covered with clear waterproof bandages. She’d sat in the back of every class, and no one had acknowledged her, not even Coach Devlin. In
history class, Mr. Osborn had announced a pop quiz, but then hadn’t even bothered to pass one to her, deliberately ignoring her desk as he passed them to Georgia Jensen and Alan Osten. For the next forty minutes Miranda had stared out the window. The red maple on the lush lawn of the school was slowly turning colors, its majestic branches slowly turning to crimsons and golds. Miranda stared at the leaves for so long she felt like she was
watching
the colors shift before her eyes—just one more example of how she might seriously be losing it.

Finally, the bell had rung and Miranda walked into the hallway, almost colliding with Jeremiah, who was standing in the hallway with his hackey-sack stoner buddies, kicking the tiny mesh ball around with the inside of his loafer so hard it looked like it was in danger of exploding. His face was gaunt, his eyes were bloodshot, and his once crazy curly blond hair was dull and matted against his head like dreadlocks. Despite everything Miranda’s heart went out to him.

“Hi,” Miranda whispered, walking toward him.

“Stay away from me,” Jeremiah said loudly. “Because of you, Alexa’s gone. Can’t you just leave us alone?” he asked, his voice shaking.

“I know it must be so hard . . .”

“You
know
?” Jeremiah interrupted, clenching his fists as if he were about to attack. Miranda flinched. Then Lucas Hayes put his hand on Jeremiah’s shoulder. Lucas was one of the mainland kids, so Miranda didn’t know him that well.

“Dude, take it easy. She won’t bother you,” Lucas murmured to Jeremiah.

Miranda’s stomach clenched.
She
wouldn’t bother
him
? Did anyone notice that Jeremiah had been the one to almost attack her? But it was useless. There was nothing she could do or say that would make them think otherwise.

“I won’t bother you. Don’t worry,” Miranda said angrily, before turning and walking out the royal blue doors. She knew Jeremiah was hurting.
I hurt too
, she wanted to yell. It only made her feel worse. How could she possibly compare her pain to Jeremiah’s? And yet, how could he or Gray not realize that hating her wouldn’t bring anyone back?

When she got the ferry back to Whym, she headed straight to Bloody Point. She didn’t care if Eleanor was looking for her, or that she’d miss another day of seeing Fletch. She needed to be by herself.