Reckless Girls(46)

What if Jake had hit him? Not killed him, but just clipped him. What if we’d heard Robbie scream, seen his blood on the sand? What the fuck would we have done then?

Wrapping my arms around myself, I turn away, but there’s an itchy spot between my shoulder blades, like someone is watching me, and I know I’m going to feel that way until Robbie either shows up and leaves, or until we leave.

Which, I realize with a little surprise, is only a few days away now.

Like a lot of things on Meroe, time has started to feel … slippery. Pliant in a way it doesn’t back home.

Brittany has joined us now, her purple one-piece bright against the blue water behind her. “A hunting party,” she repeats, shaking her head but smiling. “God, can you imagine? All of us trekking through the jungle to kill Robbie? How very Lost.”

Jake laughs, and even Nico smiles a bit, but the image is too clear to me, too easy to see. I can practically feel the sweat gathering behind my knees, between my breasts, on my lower back, can feel the prickle of fear but also the adrenaline I’d felt yesterday, pulling that fucking oyster knife on him.

We should, I almost say. We should go find him before he comes back.

I don’t like that this is where my mind went. With a little wave to the others, I gesture down toward the water.

“Going for a swim.”

I’m almost afraid Brittany will ask to join me, but instead, she moves farther up the beach toward Eliza. I watch as she flops under the tarp next to her, playfully throwing one arm around Eliza’s neck and tugging her close, Eliza laughing as her sunglasses slip.

Brittany is like that, I’ve learned, easy with her body and her affection, but I hadn’t realized she and Eliza had already bonded so much.

I glance over at Amma to see if she noticed, but she’s talking to Nico, their heads close together, and I turn away, almost running into the water.

It’s as warm as always, which is nice, but I feel like I could use the bracing shock of cold water. Something to clear my head.

I swim in aimless circles for a bit before finally getting out, heading for the pile of towels we keep up near the tree line.

I’ve just grabbed one when I hear, “Are we cool?”

I stop and turn to see Amma bracing one hand against the trunk of a palm tree, her sunglasses pushed on top of her head, holding her hair back from her face. She’s not as pretty as Brittany, but she’s definitely striking, her skin gone very tan, a constellation of freckles spattered over the bridge of her nose.

“What?”

She shrugs, crossing her arms. “I don’t know. I’m just getting a vibe. Like I’ve pissed you off somehow.” Holding up a hand, she adds, “And I realized after I got back in bed last night that I might’ve interrupted something with you and Nico, which is awkward as fuck.”

“Oh, it’s no big deal,” I say, waving her off even as my face heats a little at the memory. “Hazard of boat life.”

“Seriously,” she replies, smiling. “I know you’ll be happy to have him to yourself when all this is over.”

I don’t say anything, and again, she rushes into the silence. “Sorry, I hope it doesn’t bug you that I’ve been spending time with Nico. Brittany is doing her golden retriever thing with Eliza and Jake, and it’s just … it’s nice to have someone new to talk to. He’s a good listener.”

I think about the night Nico and I met, that way he has of focusing on you and only you. Still, something about all of this is weird. Amma’s smile is too bright, her posture a little too stiff.

“He actually reminds me a lot of the guy I was telling you about. The boyfriend I was going to travel with.”

The wind is blowing through the palm trees overhead, their leaves sighing and swaying, casting shifting shadows on Amma’s face.

“Your ex-boyfriend, right,” I say.

Amma swallows hard, looking away for a second before turning back to me and saying, “So, there’s something I should tell you. Britt and I weren’t totally honest about how we met,” she tells me, her eyes not meeting mine. “About it being in college.”

I’m not sure how to respond to that. Why would they lie about something so minor?

“We met in a counseling group,” she goes on, then looks over at me. “Grief counseling. Brittany’s whole family was killed in a drunk driving accident. Mom, dad, little brother. All … three of them.”

Her voice goes tight, chin wobbling a bit before she clears her throat and goes on. “And I’d lost my boyfriend.”

“Oh,” I say. Suddenly her tears when she was talking about him that first day make more sense.

“We tell people the college story because … well, we don’t want to be those girls, you know? The sad, tragic ones. The ones who needed grief counseling.”

Now that I can completely understand. I’ve spent the past few years trying not to be that girl.

“Anyway,” she goes on, waving a hand. “I just … figured you should know all that. I figured you’d get it.”

“I do,” I say, and suddenly all my catty thoughts about Amma, that twisting in my stomach when I’d see her with Nico, fills me with shame.

Stepping forward, I lay a hand on her arm. “And I’m so sorry.”

“Thanks. It’s been … awful, but we’re here now. And Brittany’s happy. Traveling like this was her idea, her way of using the money from insurance and the settlement to do something she thought her family would’ve appreciated. They were big on experiences, getting out there, living life.”