They grabbed their bags and started a slow march back up to Mabuz Villa.
“We have to talk,” Marlowe began, glancing over at Plum.
Her kitten heel sandal sank into the sandy soil. Marlowe made a squawking noise, a cross between “Ah!” and “Gak!”
Plum leaped forward at the same time as Sofia. Together they managed to catch Marlowe before she toppled sideways. Sofia didn’t even drop Henrietta.
Marlowe smiled at her friends. “Good catch,” she said gratefully.
“I do my best work while holding a chicken,” Sofia said.
“Are you okay?” Plum asked her friend.
Marlowe flexed her foot. “I’m fine. Though my ankle hurts a little.”
Plum hadn’t let go of Marlowe’s arm. And she hadn’t let go of where her other hand had steadied her friend, resting on the small of Marlowe’s back.
Plum couldn’t help but feel the softness and warmth of Marlowe’s skin under her hand.
And she couldn’t help but breathe in Marlowe’s unique smell, just the faintest trace but still discernible, even out here with the sea air all around them. It was a scent she noticed and recognized more than she could describe. Warmth, skin, some kind of hormone or sex pollen, no doubt, because Marlowe smelled so good, but it wasn’t like she smelled of anything . . . not like vanilla or any other scent, but something maybe electrostatic, or noticeable only to Plum, a scent that felt like a banked fire, like home, like ignition.
Plum realized Marlowe was talking to her.
“—you?” Marlowe was frowning. She’d taken off her cat’s-eye sunglasses, her beautiful blue-green eyes penetrating.
“I’m sorry?” Plum asked, still somehow unable to let go of Marlowe.
Don’t make it weird, Plum told herself. Let go of her arm. Drop your other hand from her back. She’s your friend and she’s not in danger of falling anymore.
Plum’s hands didn’t let go.
Marlowe’s own hand turned and curled up, resting on Plum’s waist. “You said before no one ever notices you. Do you really feel like I don’t notice you?” Marlowe repeated.
Jalen and Jude were standing nearby, waiting for them to continue the climb or possibly even listening in, waiting for Plum to explain herself.
“Um, you don’t count,” Plum answered Marlowe. She tried to put a smile in it and explain. “I mean, you’re my friend.” Plum dropped her hands and stepped back.
Marlowe’s eyes shone. She turned her head and fumbled her sunglasses back on.
“Oh my God, Plum.” Sofia’s whisper was nearly a hiss.
“What?” Plum whispered back. Did Sofia sense something? It was hard to think. Her brain felt like molasses.
“Huh,” Jalen said. His eyes slid between Marlowe and Plum.
“What?” Plum asked.
“Nothing.” Jalen turned away, pretending to be as absorbed in the horizon as Marlowe. “Just, what a predicament,” he added. His hand touched Marlowe’s shoulder briefly. Consolingly.
“Don’t worry, Marlowe,” Plum said. “We’ll figure a way out of here.”
The broad brim of Marlowe’s serving-platter sun hat dipped as she nodded briskly.
“Let’s just get out of the sun before it completely cooks what’s left of Plum’s brain,” Sofia said to Marlowe in a strangely consoling voice.
Plum felt tears jump to her eyes as the rest of the group started climbing ahead of her.
Everyone was mad at her. She’d brought her friends to this death trap festival, and she’d lied to everyone about her sister. She couldn’t just expect everyone to get over that.
She trudged up the path behind her friends.