AFTERSHOCK

Monday, 7:34 P.M.

The next thing I knew, introductions were over. Everyone else had claimed a floor cushion: Mom and Gabe on one side of the table, and She Who Shall Not Be Named and Ella on the other. I was still standing next to the table, temporarily paralyzed. According to Nessa, this kind of thing was pretty common when a person experienced a traumatic event. Such as a ruggedly handsome stranger spawning evil, then hitting on my mother.

“Have a seat, Kacey,” Gabe said.

You can’t tell me what to do. I eyed the green-and-gold silk cushion at the end of the table. Fortunately, Ella had snagged the middle cushion, so all I could see of Stevie was a perfectly swooped side bang and a leather cuff bracelet. I’d never despised anyone more.

“Join us, won’t you?” Mom “suggested” with a taut laugh. I recognized her Don’t-you-dare-embarrass-me-in-public voice from a few weeks ago at the grocery store, when Ella had practically cannonballed into the bakery guy’s wedding cake sample tray.

Slowly, I sank onto the cushion and sat back on my heels. Everything was a muted blur: my thoughts, the dull roar of the waterfall wall behind Mom and Gabe, the ebb and flow of conversation at the surrounding tables, the fuzzy edges of the flickering tea light flames in the center of the table. My dream afternoon had just turned into a nightmare.

“Stevie, Sterling’s daughter goes to Marquette. Maybe you’ve seen each other in the halls?” Gabe rested his hands on his knees, palms to the ceiling. “We’re staying with family friends from Seattle,” he explained to Mom. “Their son goes to Marquette as well, and Stevie’s been—”

“Zander,” somebody croaked. Judging by the way Mom and Gabe refocused their weirded-out stares across the table, that somebody was probably me. “They’re staying with Zander.”

“What a small world! Kacey and Zander are in a little band together.” Mom smiled. But her eyes never left me, and the tiny creases in her forehead deepened. “Right, honey?”

I decided to let the use of the word little slide. In times like these, a girl had to pick her battles. And mine was sitting two cushions down.

“Oh, yeah?” Gabe’s wiry eyebrows lifted. “I play a little acoustic guitar myself. In fact, Stevie learned from her old man.”

“Yup.” The tinny anger in Stevie’s voice chilled my blood. That was the tone of a girl who knew something about rogue Swedish Fish and wasn’t afraid to rat me out.

“Don’t worry. You’re only a little old,” Ella told Gabe graciously.

“Ella!” Mom scolded, lifting her water glass to hide her smile. “Apologize.”

“No need.” Gabe chuckled. “In fact, I think that’s the nicest thing anybody’s said to me all day.” He pressed his palms together like he was about to pray, then bowed. Ella bowed back.

“Now hold on.” Mom frowned playfully. “Don’t I get a shot at the compliment game?”

No. No way. Was she… flirting?

“Be my guest,” Gabe said coyly.

“Let’s see…” Mom tapped her polished red nail against her bottom lip. “Okay, got it.” She shifted her whole body toward Gabe, so that there were only a few inches between their noses. OMG. What if he had already kissed her? “You, sir, look more and more handsome every time I see you. I think Chicago agrees with you.”

“Kacey!” Ella hissed. “Ewwww!”

I squeezed her hand in solidarity. Out of all the geezers in Chicago, how could Mom have picked Stevie’s dad? There were old men everywhere: hogging the good seats on the El, shushing the girls and me in the movie theater during—no joke—the credits. But no. She had to pick this guy.

“Sorry, kids. We’ll try to keep it G-rated.” Gabe winked.

“Would you? That’d be ever so swell.” Stevie’s caustic tone made Ella scoot a little closer to me.

If I’d made a comment like that, Mom would have grounded me until I was eligible for the senior-citizen discount at Sugar Daddy. But Gabe just cocked his head slightly to one side and said, “I hear your anger. And I think we both know it’s not me you’re frustrated with.”

Disbelieving, I ventured a glance at Stevie. She was squeezing her knees into her chest and staring straight ahead, her face pinched with rage. An involuntary sympathy pang vibrated in my chest. Not because of what I’d done to her, since she’d done way worse to me. But because she had a dad who said things like I hear your anger.

“Rough day?” Mom guessed gently.

“You could say that. She got in serious trouble for a prank at the aquarium today,” Gabe explained, like Stevie wasn’t even there. “She’ll be doing a few community-service projects around school.” He shook his head and pinched the braided hemp necklace around his throat. “You’re pretty lucky that the aquarium’s agreed to drop the matter.”

“Yeah. Really lucky,” Stevie said bitterly. Her words dripped with accusation. “Hey, Kacey? Why don’t you tell what happened? I’m sure my dad would be really interested to hear your version.”

My body temperature skyrocketed. This was it. Any second now, she was going to tell our parents everything. I cursed our justice system for not shipping Stevie to juvie when they had the chance.

Grabbing my silver snakeskin clutch, I shoved away from the table. “Sorry, I have to—” I rasped, stumbling to my feet and lurching past a server. “ ’Scuze me.” Blindly, I barreled around the waterfall wall and down a long, dark wood–paneled hallway. I passed the kitchen, the clanging pots and pans sending Richter-scale-esque aftershocks through my core.

At the end of the hall there were two wooden doors, each with a circular orb featuring the glowing outline of a mermaid. The mermaid on the left was wearing a shell bra with a seaweed halter, so I made an educated guess.

A relaxation soundtrack with the occasional dolphin squeak and low whale call emanated from hidden speakers. I bent over and checked beneath each of the stalls to make sure they were empty, then collapsed onto a wide teak bench by the door, stretching out on the creamy ivory cushions. Right now, Stevie was probably telling Mom and Gabe everything.

I stared up at the glittering blue and teal mosaic tiles that swirled in a frothy pattern on the ceiling. Of course she had figured it out. I was the only one at Marquette who had a real problem with her. But she didn’t have proof. She couldn’t. Right?

I pulled my phone from my clutch. Six missed calls from Paige, along with a text asking why Quinn hadn’t dropped out of the race yet. I deleted them and hit number one on my speed dial.

“Heyyy, guys,” Molly’s raspy outgoing-message voice murmured in my ear. “I’m probably out with the boyf right now, so leave me your deets, and I’ll call you back whenevs.”

“It’s me.” I plugged my left ear to drown out the sudden screech of a seagull. “Where are you? You have to call me ASAP. You will not believe what is happening to me right now, and I really need your—”

A bangled hand swooped in and grabbed my phone.

“Hey!” I scrambled to my feet.

I’m on the phone, Stevie mouthed, lifting a finger to shush me. “Um, hey. Mols? It’s Stevie. Nice work today, by the way. Good luck getting away with it.” She sidestepped me as I flailed wildly for the phone. “So annnnyhooo, your BFF can’t come to the phone right now. She’ll have to call you later.” With a satisfied smirk, she raised an index finger and stabbed a button on my cell.

“Give me that, you lunatic!” I barked, ripping the phone from her grip.

A couple of girls around Ella’s age shoved through the bathroom door.

“Get out!” we screeched. Eyes wide, they backed through the doorway.

“Did you know about this?” Stevie snapped. “Your mom and my dad?”

“Of course not! Why would you ask that?”

Stevie’s laugh echoed from the tiles. “Why? Um, let’s see. You set me up, and now I have to spend the week as Marquette’s student janitor. Your flirt of a mother is, like, seducing my dad—”

“OH! PLEEEEEASE!” I smacked the wall with my palm. “You know it’s your Survivor-host-wannabe father who’s seducing my mother. Who, by the way? IS A TOTAL FOX. Your dad should be so lucky!”

Stevie stalked to the other side of the bathroom, the heels of her cowboy boots clacking against the floor.

“Just so we’re clear? This is one hundred percent your fault,” I informed her, wiping the sweat from my hairline.

“Oh, really? How’s that?” She leaned against the wall between two stall doors, staring me down.

“If you hadn’t come here in the first place—”

“Then what?” she challenged, pointing a finger at me. “Then you wouldn’t be so desperate to keep your spot in the band that you had to sabotage me?”

My heart rate sped up again. “Nooo. Then our parents wouldn’t have met, and I’d be eating Chinese in bed right now, two whole time zones away from you.”

“Well, it’s too late now, isn’t it?”

BAAAAH-OOOOHHH. What could only be classified as a massive whale fart erupted over the speakers.

Stevie snorted. I pressed my fist against my mouth, dropping my head so she couldn’t see my cheeks twitching.

“Okay. So seriously. Before they send your Mini-Me in here to get us.” Stevie slunk across the bathroom and sat at the other end of the bench. “What are we gonna do about this?”

I rolled my eyes. “Her name is Ella. And I don’t know. I mean, there’s got to be something about your dad that would be a deal-breaker for my mom.” I tilted my head back and thought. “Has he ever gotten arrested for some kind of hippie demonstration?”

“My dad’s a world-renowned anthropologist. He spent six months in the Amazon, living with the Aweti tribe.” I couldn’t help but notice that she didn’t answer the question.

“So what are you doing in Chicago? Tell him you miss the rain forest!”

“We—I—didn’t get to go.” Something in Stevie’s tone warned me to back off. “Okay. I got it. Did your mom ever fart in the middle of a live interview?”

“EW! No!” I scooted over and slapped the leather patch on her black leggings.

“Well, then, I don’t know!” she huffed. After a few seconds, she bent over and fished something out of her green canvas bag. “Here.” She tilted a sandwich baggie of Swedish Fish in my direction. “You like these, right?”

I swallowed. The sight of the red gummy candies made me want to gag. But I took one anyway, because Stevie was scrutinizing my reaction the way Liv scrutinized the Sugar Daddy menu for free-trade cocoa.

I plucked a single fish from the bag. “Thanks.”

“I didn’t tell on you, by the way. My dad would just think I was lying, and I’d get in more trouble.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said evenly, but when I lifted my gummy fish, it trembled in midair. “To getting your dad away from my mom.”

Stevie rolled her eyes at my lie, but lifted hers, too. “To pawning your mom off on any guy who’s not related to me.”

We clinked fish. “Cheers.”