The silence in the car was palpable, at least to Brynna. The waves kept crashing in her head, and all she could focus on was a drink, something to drown out the voices.
She leaned over and nudged the radio up. Evan shot her a glance and turned the volume back down. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you didn’t want to talk to me.”
Brynna gave a halfhearted shrug. “So Lauren didn’t want to come out today?”
“She’s already out. Mom picked her up to get her head shrunk.”
“Lauren sees a therapist?”
“Yeah. Sometimes I’ll drive her, but it’s over off Sand Dollar and there is nothing out there.”
“Sand Dollar?”
Brynna thought of the turns her mother took when she dropped her off at Dr. Rother’s office. She closed her eyes and visualized the street signs: left on Harper, left on Cole, right on Sand Dollar.
“Do you know who she sees?”
“I don’t know, some lady. It’s not like I engage the crazy.”
Does Lauren see Dr. Rother too?
Brynna started feeling like she was hearing information she wasn’t privy to. She knew she shouldn’t, but she couldn’t help herself. “Why does she go?”
Evan shrugged. “I don’t know, chick stuff, I guess. Or probably like how she’s depressed because she can never measure up to her beloved twin brother. Who knows? Maybe she’s a serial killer.”
A tremble went down Brynna’s spine, and she forced a laugh. “You’re joking.”
“Of course I am. She’s my sister.” He turned the wheel easily. “I think I’d know if I was sharing my bathroom with a socio.”
Brynna laughed with Evan, but there was still something nagging at the back of her mind.
Evan slowed the car, the wheels crunching over the gravel. He pushed it into park, and she looked up, surprised.
“Where are we?”
“This is officially downtown Crescent City. Try not to become a coked-up heroin addict.”
“Coke and heroin are two different things.”
“What’s that?” Evan asked as he fed quarters into a meter.
“Uh, nothing. So, why are we here?”
“Because.” He pulled open the glass door in front of them and she followed. “You are going to tell me everything you’ve been hiding from me.”
Brynna glanced up at the hand-painted sign above the front door. There were swirls and big hippie flowers, the name By Joe! painted in swirly white script.
He yanked her down onto a leather couch in the coffee shop that looked like it was born on a movie set. Two overhead fans turned lazily, slightly moving the warm, coffee-soaked air. Tiny round tables dotted the room—which could have been only ten feet wide, tops—and against one of the latte-covered walls was a heavy wood bar with curlicues of brass design going the whole length down. Ivy and leafy vines trailed from a hodgepodge collection of coffee pots set on the table next to the couch, giving the whole place a sort of coffee-jungle-type vibe.
“Where did you find this place?” Brynna asked.
“Sometimes I need to get away.” Evan stood. “I’m getting you their special. It’s called Cocoa Bananas. Coffee, chocolate, banana, malt, pixie dust, eye of newt, whipped cream.”
“Sounds delicious,” Brynna deadpanned.
She tucked her legs underneath her and sunk into the butter-soft leather of the old couch, immediately liking the private vibe, enjoying the enveloping warmth of the place. She was comfortable enough to forget that Evan had dragged her there in an effort to force her secrets out of her and that she was about to down a horrible-sounding coffee drink rather than a mind-numbing shot.
When he came back with their drinks—two behemoth mugs oozing whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles—Brynna was in a relaxed state. Even more so when she took her first sip.
“This sounded disgusting when you described it, but it is incredible.”
“There really isn’t any eye of newt in it. That was a joke.”
She nudged him gently. “Dork.”
“So.” Evan got comfortable, situating himself so he was facing Brynna full on. “Spill it.”
The nervous twitter that the comfort of the room had stamped out was back, full force. The sweet, chocolate liquid turned to acid, burning in her stomach. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Are you bipolar?”
Brynna pulled back, stunned. “No.”
“Then there is something going on with you. Are you doing drugs? Do I have to go all public service announcement on your ass?”
She wrinkled her nose. “No, of course not. On both counts. I’m fine, Ev, seriously.”
“Nope. You were all fun, bubbly Bryn and then, kapow! You’re terrified of your own shadow, and you’ve worn the same hoodie and jeans to school three days in a row.”
She looked down at the jeans in question. “You noticed that?”
“Everyone noticed. Darcy was going to host an intervention.”
“There is—”
Evan put a hand on her shoulder. “Spare me. If you’re going to say that there isn’t anything wrong, then it’s been nice knowing you.”
Brynna gaped. “Seriously? If I don’t spill some stupid secrets to you, you’re going to stop being my friend?”
But Brynna’s indignant act dropped the second she saw the look on Evan’s face. It was sad. Kind.
“I want to help you, B. I care about you. If something is bothering you, it’s bothering me too.”
A hint of a lump started to form in her throat. “Does everyone else feel this way too?”
“Lauren and Darcy? No, they couldn’t give a crap. Teddy, I don’t know about. So come on, B, what’s going on with you?”
Brynna put down her mug and studied a blue ink stain on the leg of her jeans. Part of her wanted to tell Evan everything, to let someone shoulder a tiny bit of her burden, even if it was only for the duration of a car ride and a cup of cocoa-malt-banana-coffee. But the other part—the louder part—rallied for her to drop her coffee and run, or to make up something, some lie that would appease Evan so she could keep his friendship—and her secret.
Internally, Erica, the dare, that night would follow Brynna forever. She would never be able to dismiss what had happened, would never be able to overcome her grief and her guilt. If she hadn’t dared—then prodded, then pulled—Erica into the water, Erica would still be alive. If she had gone back in the water again, maybe she could have saved her best friend.
Erica was the pretty one, the fun one, the smart one. Brynna was just the girl who survived.
“Okay, look. I’ll tell you a secret first, and then you’ll know that we’re bound together forever and you can tell me yours.”
Brynna nodded, glad just to have a few more minutes while Evan looked away, worrying his bottom lip. Finally, he sucked in a dramatic breath and focused his eyes on her.
“No one else knows this, B, okay?”
“Okay, just between us.”
He closed his eyes for a long beat and then blurted, “I hate corduroy.”
Brynna gaped. “Seriously? That’s your enormous, earth-shattering secret? That you hate fabrics?”
He held up a finger. “One. I hate one fabric.”
Brynna rolled her eyes but found herself smiling.
“It’s serious!” Evan smirked behind his coffee mug and took a long sip. “Okay, also—”
“If you’re going to tell me you hate seersucker too, I’m going to beat you with this coffee mug.”
“I don’t know what seersucker even means. My secret is that I hate corduroy. I hate the shoosh-shoosh sound it makes when people walk. Also, I’m gay.”
He kept his focus on her, and Brynna could nearly see the cogs working in his head behind his bright, wide eyes. He was sitting up ramrod straight and holding his breath.
“Okay,” Brynna said.
He let out a chocolaty, banana-scented whoosh of air. “Okay? That’s your response?”
Brynna blinked innocently. “Who am I to judge what kind of fabric a guy likes?” She grinned. “Honestly, I kind of had an idea.”
Evan shrugged, his cheeks going pink.
“So no one else knows? Not even Lauren?”
He stared into his cup. “Honestly? Lauren and I aren’t that close. We shared a womb, but other than that, we don’t have much in common.” He paused, sipping the last bit of coffee. “Everyone thinks they know that I’m gay, I guess. But no. You’re the first person I’ve actually come out to.” He let out another long breath and laughed at the end. “Felt kind of good.” His face went slightly serious. “Do you want to lecture me on going to hell or whatever? Do you hate that I lied to you?”
“Well, I am crushed that we’ll never get married and have lots of tiny, corduroy-hating babies, but I guess I can just continue to casually date Teddy…”
“Thanks,” he said softly. “You’re a really good friend, B. My best friend. And don’t worry; I am going to be just as understanding and supportive when you come out as heterosexual. Is that your secret?”
A slight chuckle. “No.”
“Tell me.”
Brynna tried to think of a funny and light response for Evan, but all she could think about was the dare. The humor slid right out of her, and she chanced a glance over the rim of her coffee cup. Evan’s eyes were still fixed and warm. With the soft leather couches and the cozy, coffee-scented air, she felt a comfort she hadn’t felt since before that night at Harding Beach ever happened.
Brynna sucked in a determined breath. “Back at my old school…back at Lincoln, um, there was this party at the end of the summer. We were partying at this beach house—the whole school was. A few of us broke away and went out onto the beach. It was late, way past midnight.”
Evan’s eyes flashed and he scooched closer, setting his mug down and pressing his hand, palm warm from the coffee, against Brynna’s.
“Go on,” he whispered.
“We were just screwing around. Drinking and whatever.”
Like the flames of the bonfire, the memory flared up, images flicking up in her mind’s eye. She felt Erica’s bare skin pressed against her as they sat shoulder to shoulder on the beach, giggling. She saw the red party cup propped up by the sand, smelled the swirling fruit punch and alcohol smell.
“Someone”—she couldn’t bring herself to say Erica’s name—“someone went into the water. A girl. She drowned.”
Brynna peeked up at Evan who was sitting, rapt. His eyes were wide and he was pressing a hand over his open mouth. “Oh my god, B. And you were there? You were on the beach when this happened?”
She bobbed her head without thinking about it. “Yeah.”
“That must have been awful for you! To watch one of your classmates drown.” He shuddered. “Did you see the body?”
Brynna stared straight forward, not really seeing anything. “No. They said she got caught in a riptide. They said it probably swept her under and…” She cleared her throat but couldn’t force herself to go on.
“And it probably sucked the body out to sea. Did they ever find it? Probably not, right, because of currents and sharks and stuff? Ohmigod, Bryn, no wonder you’re all jumpy lately. Is this, like, the anniversary of it? Or, no, it’s not summer. Her birthday or something?”
Brynna wanted to say something about the call, about the tweet, but the static in her head drowned every thought out. All she could do was shake her head from side to side.
“That’s not everything, is it?”
Brynna snapped her gaze back to Evan then dipped her head again, feeling the weight of her secret closing in on her.
“She was my best friend.”
“Who was?”
“Erica. The girl who died. She was my best friend, and she jumped into the water because I dared her to jump with me.”
Brynna held her breath, waiting for Evan’s face to harden. She was ready for him to spring to his feet and walk out the door or to point an accusing finger at her and call her something horrible.
Finally, after a beat that lasted a lifetime for Brynna, Evan said, “B, you don’t think you’re somehow responsible for Erica’s death, do you?”
Brynna couldn’t have answered if she wanted to; her heart was lodged firmly in her throat.
“Because that’s completely ridiculous.”
“But I was the one who dared her.”
“And who are you, the Queen of Sheba? Erica didn’t have to go through with it.”
The pounding was beginning in her head. “I made her. I told her she had to.”
“So you roofied her, carried her limp body down the beach, and dumped her in the surf? Then you’re right. You did it.”
“No, but—”
“But nothing. She jumped because she wanted to. And you obviously thought it was fine because you did it too. No one could blame you.”
Brynna paused, her teeth pressed against her lower lip. “I think someone does though.”
“What are you talking about?”
She clasped her hands hard, suddenly hyperaware of every noise in the coffeehouse: the hiss of the steam escaping the espresso machine, the weird, new-agey music that was barely audible, the tink and clatter of coffee mugs being stacked on the counter.
“B?”
“Someone—someone tweeted me from Erica’s account. It said, ‘Remember me?’ over and over again.”
“That could be anyone, you know, it could mean anything.”
“And then someone called me and it—” Just the echo of the voices on the phone stung her. “It was a recording of us that night. Right…right before everything happened.”
“Someone’s playing a joke on you. That’s all it is. Someone is playing a really awful joke on you. It’s probably some horrible ass from your old school. Some idiot who thinks he’s being funny.”
Brynna wasn’t sure if Evan was trying to convince her or himself.
“Did Erica have any siblings or anything? They could have easily had access to her accounts and stuff.”
She shook her head. “No. Well, her father was married before, but his stepson was, like, ten years older than us. He never lived with Erica or anything.”
Evan tapped his foot on the hardwood. “B—what is it?”
Brynna swallowed hard. “What if—what if it’s not someone from my old school? What if it’s Erica? What if she’s back?”