The light flips on, first illuminating Leo beside Daisy’s bedside lamp, then the person caging me in with a knife to my throat.
Yeah. A knife.
“Quinn?!”
Leo’s shocked whisper is loud in the silence. But he’s not wrong. Quinn Zhao releases her grip on me, lowering the knife, though not all the way as she takes a step back. My fingers fly to my throat. “What the fu—”
“What the fuck are you doing here?” she steals my words, dark eyes angry. She waves the knife, which I now see is a switchblade barely the length of her thumb. Realizing Leo’s behind her, she spins, pointing it haphazardly at him. Her eyes flash. “What are you doing here? You better not be—”
“Relax, I’m here on business,” Leo says, raising his hands. “That seems to be the question of the night. Care to share what you’re doing here?”
“Not with you,” Quinn bites out.
“Why do you have a knife? You could have killed me!” I run to Daisy’s full-length mirror on her closet door, making sure it didn’t nick me.
“I just skated on my board over five miles across town in the middle of the night. I wasn’t going to come unarmed.” She slips the tiny knife into the midnight-black hair of her bun, confirming the rumor I’d heard of the hidden weapon. She gives Leo a pointed look. “I’m also here on business. Daisy owes me a conversation.”
The night of the party looms in my mind, Quinn banging on Daisy’s window. You said we would talk, she yelled.
“What kind of business?” I ask, forcing as much authority into my voice as possible. My eyes dart toward the door, praying Uncle Arbor didn’t hear the commotion.
“None now,” Quinn says, a layer of defeat to her hard voice. She turns to Leo. “So it’s true, then? She’s hooking up with Kev?”
She means Daisy, whose room we really should get out of before she comes back.
Leo shifts. “What’s it to you? You two haven’t talked in months.”
Quinn scoffs. “That was before I found out she was having a fling with the world’s biggest douchebag.” She turns to me, and her expression changes, one eyebrow lifting. “You’re not the Rosewood I was looking for tonight, but I need to talk to you, too.”
“Me?” I can’t keep the surprise from my voice. I don’t think we’ve ever talked. All I know about her are bits that ghosted throughout the halls of school. She was born in Shanghai, where her mom left her dad so the two of them could move all over the world while she was a party planner for extravagant weddings. They finally settled in Rosetown two years ago, when her mom bought the Ivy. Quinn barely has any accent despite her travels, as if she purposefully doesn’t want people to know where she’s been. Being the cool well-traveled new kid to enter Rosetown High meant she was immediately scooped up by Daisy’s group. Last year, Quinn and Daisy were practically inseparable. I started disliking Quinn by association.
But at some point, around Christmas, something happened between them. I don’t know what it was, although there were plenty of rumors to choose from, but Quinn went from hanging out with Daisy and Leo every waking moment to practically disappearing.
Even now, I can feel the tension boiling between her and Leo. It’s a welcome distraction from my own with him.
She wears black baggy pants that cinch around the ankles with pockets all over them. She pulls something from one pocket on her thigh and holds it out to me. I take it, unfolding the piece of paper, the scrawl unmistakable. I read it out loud.
Dear Quinn,
Don’t forget that the world is so much more vast than we could ever know. If you need a reminder, go to the end of the port where the railing ends and nothing stands between you and the sea. The waves against the rocks might teach you a thing or two.
When your lesson is learned, find Lily.
Gram
“Where did you get this letter?” I ask Quinn, pacing Daisy’s room.
“It was in my mailbox today, and then I found this wedged between some of the rocks at the harbor in a plastic tube an hour ago.” From a different pocket, she pulls something out and places it on Daisy’s bed. It’s what Leo and I came here for in hopes Daisy had it.
Another piece of the map.
“Southeast part of town,” Leo points out, pulling Daisy’s covers up to conceal the mannequin and wig so it stops staring at us. From his pocket, he takes his own piece and adds it, then motions for me to give mine. With them all together, it’s almost complete. “Still no X.”
“X?” Quinn asks. “You think this is a treasure map?”
“No idea,” I mutter. I glance up at Quinn. She wears a ripped tee that advertises a band I don’t recognize, screamo from the looks of it, and beat-up Vans with neon green laces. Along with the pants, it’s a god-awful outfit, and yet somehow still looks good on her. Her RBF is ever in place. Despite the photo on the dresser depicting her grinning, I can’t imagine the expression on her face now.
“You wanna take a picture?” she asks, calling out my stare.
“Thinking about it,” I reply. “No offense, but I don’t get why Gram gave you a piece of the map.”
Leo makes a shred of sense. He had some kind of relationship with Gram, and just because I never understood it doesn’t make it less real. But Quinn never knew Gram, at least to my knowledge.
“There must be a reason,” Leo says to her. “You still work for your mom, right? At the Ivy?”
Quinn’s nostrils flare. “What about it?”
Leo is either actually oblivious or chooses to ignore the bite in her tone. “I know Gram went to a bunch of events there. At any point did you guys talk?”
Quinn narrows her eyes, looking ready to lunge across the bed to wring his neck. I spearhead the conversation before she can attack.
“I don’t know what’s going on or what this map means, but we need to figure out a pattern. There’s obviously one last person with a piece, so we have to find them. If they don’t find us first, that is.” I begin pacing again. It used to annoy Dad, but I can’t help it. Sitting still isn’t my specialty. “My connection with Gram is obvious. Leo’s—kind of. But I don’t know yours unless you tell us.”
She averts her gaze from mine and lands on the shattered picture frame. In two quick strides, she rips it off the dresser, staring down at the photo. I try a different approach.
“I know you were looking for Daisy tonight, but you must have known I was here, too. I’ve heard the news got out that I’m banned from the manor. Were you planning to follow Gram’s note to find me next?”
Her eyes flick up, an espresso brown that’s softer than the rest of her. “I don’t know. I thought maybe I’d ask Daisy first. See what she knew. Coming straight to you seemed like a bad idea since I know how much she hates you. Figured she’d be mad.” Quinn’s gaze goes frigid as she glances at Leo. “But now that I know it’s true about her and Kev, I hope she’s furious.”
I know my cousin doesn’t like me, but hearing Quinn say it out loud makes a piece of my heart hurt that I thought I had buried years ago.
“I’ve never really known you apart from what Daisy’s said,” Quinn tells me, putting the photo back. “Maybe I also wanted to see what the great Lily Rosewood is all about.”
“Not so great at the moment,” I reply honestly, leaning against the dresser. I’m exhausted, something I’m sure is evident in my face and posture, which is usually ramrod straight. But right now, it’s all I can do not to fold into myself and shrink. “I’d be a little better if I could figure out Gram’s motive for looping you into whatever this is.”
Quinn’s silent, eyes latched on to the photo while Leo and I share a look.
Don’t say anything, I stress with my gaze. She obviously doesn’t want to hear from him.
Finally, Quinn sighs, turning away from the picture. “Last year, at the annual Hyacinth Ball that takes place the last Friday of June at the Ivy, my mom was being a lot,” she says. “She always gets intense that night since all the Rosetown richies show up. She bitched me out in the kitchen for not refilling water glasses quick enough, so I got mad and went outside. The harbor isn’t far from the property, and whenever I want a break, I stand at the edge of it. There’s only one streetlight, and the boardwalk just kind of drops off near the rocks, so nothing is at the end except for the water.”
She takes a deep breath like she can’t believe she’s telling us this. I keep my mouth shut, waiting for her to continue.
“I didn’t think I was followed, but your grandma came up behind me. Scared the hell out of me and almost earned an elbow to the face for it. I thought she was going to yell at me for ditching. But instead, we just . . .” A strange, melancholy look passes Quinn’s face before she tugs her walls back up. “Talked. My mom always had shit to say about her, probably just jealous about all her money. Especially lately, since my mom lost a lot from the investment shit that went down last year.”
Heat flares up my neck at the mention, but Quinn keeps going, paying me no mind.
“I think Mom hoped your grandmother would invest her own money to help renovate the second ballroom, but that obviously didn’t happen. So, I guess I always assumed she was just a rich bitchy old lady, you know? But she was actually pretty nice. And funny, too.” A grin flickers across her face. “I think she hated being at that party almost as much as I did.”
“Was that the only time you ever talked to her?” I ask.
“Pretty much. I had mentioned that Rosetown felt suffocating, that I didn’t think I’d ever get out. She said sometimes she felt the same.”
It’s strange to imagine Quinn and Gram standing at the end of the boardwalk together talking about life and the great unknown. I didn’t think Gram ever felt suffocated by Rosetown. Hearing that hurts. I wish she would have shared it with me instead of Quinn.
Leo’s thick brows form a concentrated V as he stares at the map.
“What is it?” I ask.
“What if Gram pulled us together because of something related to the missing inheritance?” He gestures at himself. “I like . . . really need money. Ever since the Ice Plex went under and my dad also lost money with investments, my family’s been in serious debt. Plus, my three sisters all got married in the span of like, two years, which didn’t help. I had kind of mentioned it to Gram, just randomly, not looking for a handout or anything.”
He takes a deep breath, and the fact that he has the guts to share this waters a little seed of respect. Though I’d never say it out loud, it’s a relief to know I’m not the only one with a messed-up money situation.
“I told Gram I wasn’t sure if I’d be going to college,” he says, not looking at either of us. “My parents didn’t set aside money because we all thought I’d get a full-ride hockey scholarship. But I didn’t get recruited, and my grades kind of bombed, and . . . yeah.”
He doesn’t blush, but I can tell the admission is uncomfortable. In school, he seems so unbothered. For months, I’ve overheard him laughing on Monday mornings about the weekend parties he and his friends got trashed at. He grins when tests riddled with red ink get plopped down in front of him, as if getting terrible grades was an award in itself. I never thought maybe it hit him harder than he let on.
“I may have mentioned the college thing, too,” Quinn says stiffly. “My mom put everything she has into the Ivy. Any time I try to talk about college, she gets pissed. She expects me to stay here forever with her, but I want out. I’ll never afford college, especially since my dad is MIA.” She looks at Leo. A little bit of her hatred seems to peel back. “Guess that makes two of us in the severely underfunded higher education club.”
“Three,” I breathe. They turn to me, shock etched into their expressions. “I also have a complicated money situation. Gram has been pushing me to look at business schools, even though I want to go to the Fashion Institute of Technology. At this rate, neither is looking too good at the moment.”
“How?” Leo says. “You’re a Rosewood. Even without the inheritance—”
“It’s complicated,” I repeat.
Leo looks at me like he’s actually seeing me for the first time in years.
It’s like being naked. I hate it.
“So that’s what we all have in common, then,” he says. “We’re broke.”
“But why would Mrs. Rosewood help us?” Quinn gestures between herself and Leo. “Just because I vented to her once and you pulled her weeds doesn’t make us shining candidates for . . . whatever this is.”
I peer between the two of them, trying to see what Gram saw. Two teens with their futures up in the air. “Gram always had a strategy,” I say, trying to work through it. “She didn’t talk about her mom, my great-grandmother, very often. But I know that despite always having the manor, for a while when Gram was young, our family wasn’t doing very well financially because Petunia was poorly managing Rosewood Inc. after Hyacinth died. We were losing tons of money. It’s why Gram started working at the company so young. She never—”
I cut myself off, a realization slamming into me. Suddenly it makes so much sense why Gram has been pushing me to go to school for business.
“Never what?” Leo asks.
“She never got to go to college.”
Silence falls like a blanket. My stomach twists with guilt. I thought she wanted me to go to business school so I could be just like her. But maybe it was so I could be even better and get the education she never had.
“If this really is a . . . treasure map.” Quinn makes a face. “Do you think it might lead to money for college? If that’s the one thing we all share and something she’d want for us since she didn’t get it, that makes sense, doesn’t it?”
“I suppose,” I reply. “Gram could have set some of the fortune aside for us specifically to use for school.”
“So the other map holder is probably in the same situation, right?” Leo asks.
Quinn rolls her eyes. “Great, that narrows down our search to pretty much the entire senior class.”
“Maybe not,” I say suddenly, the realization hitting me like a ton of bricks. I can’t believe I didn’t think of him before. “I think the fourth person is Miles Miller.”
“Yearbook kid?” Quinn asks, at the same time Leo says, “Who?”
I roll my eyes at Leo. “He works at the deli with me. He was supposed to go to college for animation in the fall, but he had to push it back a year to save up. He’s a year older than us, but Gram knows he’s my friend. The night of the party, she even said she likes him, so maybe that was a clue or something. I’m sure he’s coming to the funeral today, so I can ask him then.”
Quinn groans. “We have to wait until then? I want to start looking now.”
“Can’t,” Leo says, grabbing his map piece and making his way toward the still-open window.
Quinn takes hers and the letter, stuffing them back in her pockets.
“I’ve gotta get home,” Leo continues. “I’m technically grounded, so if I’m not in bed before my mom’s up, she’s gonna freak.”
“What’d you do this time?”
“My parents are mad I got so drunk at the party and passed out there. Woke up hours later behind the toolshed and walked myself home at three in the morning. Oops.”
“Then we’ll meet back up at the funeral with Miles,” I say. I look pointedly at Leo. “Speaking of, will you actually be there, or will you need to skip because of a family thing?”
“I’ll make sure I’m there,” he assures, one foot out the window. He moves to climb out but smacks his head on the top of the pane so hard I wince, a loud swear spilling from his lips.
Too loud.
We stare at each other with wide eyes. The creak of a door followed by footsteps sound down the hall. Uncle Arbor’s. Quinn nearly shoves Leo the rest of the way out the window and onto the porch roof, following him out. I start after them, but I know my own window is locked.
I’m screwed.
But that doesn’t mean they are. As Quinn slips out, I close the window behind her and snag my piece of map from the bed, stuffing it into the waistband of my leggings and tugging my shirt over it as Uncle Arbor knocks, then opens the door.
“Lily?” he says in surprise, blinking. He’s disheveled and still in sleep pants and a T-shirt. “Did you hear that bang? Where’s Daisy?”
I open my mouth, unsure of what will come out. I’ve never lied to him before because I never had to. At least I’m mostly dry now, and aside from my shoes, my outfit could pass for pajamas. I just need an excuse, and stat.
“Oh, morning, Dad. I see none of us could sleep,” Daisy says, appearing behind Uncle Arbor. I clamp my jaw shut as she yawns, sauntering into the room in a pair of cotton shorts and a tank top, barefoot as if she just woke up. She sips from a glass of water. “I was so thirsty I had to run downstairs for a drink before we got to work.”
Uncle Arbor’s gaze follows her as she sits on her bed, purposefully in front of the lump that is the mannequin beneath the covers. “Got to work?” he asks, mimicking my silent question.
“Mm-hmm.” Daisy takes another casual sip. “Lily woke up kind of freaked this morning since she wasn’t allowed to grab an outfit from the manor for the funeral. I said we can go through my closet, and she can alter one of mine.”
“Really?” he asks, like he can’t quite believe that I’d ask for help from Daisy and she’d give it. I don’t blame him, because I wouldn’t. But now that she mentions it, I do need an outfit.
“I mean, she didn’t ask, but I heard her crying through the walls, so I offered.”
Uncle Arbor turns to me, eyes soft. “Lily, I’m so sorry. I didn’t even think about that.”
Daisy smirks from over his shoulder. Of course she had to lay it on extra thick. Now, so do I.
I sniffle. “Me either. But I couldn’t sleep. And Daisy came in offering for me to take anything from her closet. I have to make some alterations because she’s a couple sizes smaller, but I should have enough time to finish before the funeral if I start now. Daisy, do you still have the sewing machine that Gram gave you?”
A muscle twitches in Daisy’s jaw at my emphasis on anything. When her dad turns to look at her, she covers with a smile. “Yeah, it’s in the basement. I’m sure it still works.”
“Thanks.” I walk over to her closet, sifting through the clothes. I can’t believe she saved my ass by sneaking in downstairs just in time. I hope she didn’t see Leo and Quinn on the roof leaving.
“I’m really happy you girls are getting along,” Uncle Arbor says. “If there’s anything good from this, I hope it’s that you two put aside your differences.”
Neither Daisy nor I say anything. Some things aren’t worth lying about, because they’ll never happen.
Instead, I pluck a dark green corduroy skirt from the rack and a black long-sleeve blouse. “I think I can make these work. Is that okay?”
Daisy’s eyes bug. I know she loves this skirt, and once I let it out, it will be too big. But Uncle Arbor looks at her for confirmation, and she forces a smile. “Sure.”
Uncle Arbor strides toward the door, content. “I’ll grab the sewing machine from the basement and put it on the desk in your room, Lily. And girls, don’t forget to write your eulogies.”
He leaves, and I sigh in relief, clutching the clothes to my chest. It turns into a yelp as Daisy’s suddenly behind me, tugging one of my braids so hard my head jerks back. “If I ever find you in my room again when I’m not here,” she snarls in my ear. “You will regret it.”
I’m pushed into the hall, and her door slams shut behind me. Caring cousin act over.