“Ruth!”
I look up to see Katy waving at me as she climbs out of a sleek, dark blue car a few feet away.
“I’ll text you when I’m ready, thank you for the lift. Love you!” she calls through the window to the car’s driver before turning back to me as the car pulls away.
“Hi! I’m a bit early, I think. I’m always early for things.” I bite my tongue. I don’t need to start babbling right now.
“Nah, don’t worry. I reckon I’m just about on time, and Amie’s running late. Her mum’s working today so she’s on the bus. But,” she says, drawing out thebutwith a roll of her eyes, “her bus goes through Whitstonbury Heath, and those roadworks are a fucking nightmare.”
I bite back a giggle. It’s not that I’m so horribly sheltered that I’ve never heard the wordfuckbefore—it’s as much a part of my vocabulary as any other word. It’s just that to hear it from Katy’s mouth seems wrong, somehow. She always seems so demure, with her wide eyes and blonde hair and big smile, but I’m learning quite quickly that Katy Keller is not quite as sweet and innocent as she seems. Beneath the sweet exterior lies a wild child, just waiting to be freed.
As if summoned by Katy’s words, Amie steps off the bus that pulls up and trots over.
“Fucking roadworks, honestly. Sorry I’m late. Hey K, hey Roo. Wait—we can call you Roo, can’t we?” Amie greets us both with quick hugs, squeezing our shoulders with her fingertips. Her perfume is fresh and a little musky, and her fingertips dig in almost hard enoughto bruise, but the hug is warm and comforting, an embrace I relax into easily.
“Yeah, you can call me Roo,” I say with a smile. I saved my number in both of their phones asROOwith the little kangaroo emoji. Up to now, only my parents and my brother have ever really called me Roo—a throwback to when I was too young to say my own name properly—but it’s nice that Amie and Katy want to. It fills me with a pleasant kind of warmth, a sense of comfortable familiarity with these girls that almost steals my breath with the way it sneaks up on me all of a sudden.
“Okay. Come on, Roo. Let’s go shopping!”
Amie and Katy grab an arm each, looping theirs through mine and leading me through the doors of the shopping centre. Amie leads us immediately to a shop I’ve never even looked at before. All three of us leave with new dresses, and Katy buys some hair clips shaped like moons, stars, and clouds. We spend hours talking nonstop and sharing stories, laughing with the kind of ease I’m not sure I’ve ever had with anyone before. Certainly not recently.
But when I get home to find friend and follow requests on my social apps, and more messages in our group chat to plan more friend dates, I smile. And then I squeal into my fist, pressplayon my queen Taylor Swift’s newest album, and fling myself onto my bed with a giddy smile on my face.
I think I just found my best friends.
Chapter twenty-seven
Everett
It’s late in themorning when my phone buzzes once, then twice, then begins an insistent, rhythmic pattern of vibration in the pocket of my jeans. I swipe the back of my hand across my brow, no doubt leaving a streak of dust and dirt in its wake, before pulling my phone out with one hand and grabbing my water bottle with the other.
Ruth’s face lights up the screen, and I answer the call as I pour water from the bottle into my mouth. It’s warm, and I cringe as I swallow it down.
Ruth never calls at this time. She’s almost always busy, usually working, and she knows I’m usually working at this time, too. The only reason I can think of that she’d be calling me at eleven in the morning is because something is wrong.
I’m close enough to The Village to be connected to the Wi-Fi in one of the cabins, and when the video call finally connects, my worst fears are confirmed.
“Baby girl, what happened?” My tongue is thick in my mouth, my throat desert-dry in spite of the water. I hurriedly pack up my tools one-handed and sling the tool bag over my shoulder. I haven’t managed to get the irrigation system working properly, but it’s in better shape than it was. I’ll give Brooks a call later and ask him to take a closer look—he’s better than I am with those systems, anyway.He can take care of that whilst I work on preparing the land for this new glamping venture. I glance back over my shoulder as I hurry away, checking the gates and fences are secure.
All I can hear from the other end of the call is quiet sobs.
“He—they—” Ruth tries to speak, but cries harder. I weave my way between cabins, trying to stay connected to a Wi-Fi connection—any connection—so the call doesn’t drop out.
“Who, honey? Who is it? Is everyone okay? Who did this?”
Her image on the screen judders for a moment, pixellating and distorting as the Wi-Fi connection drops.
“Come on, come on, stay with me.” I take a shortcut in the direction of my own cabin, leaping over a narrow stream, dodging some prickly wild fauna, and hopping a low fence that once demarcated the boundary between two larger cottages that used to sit on this plot. By the time my cabin is in sight, my screen is flashing with the wordsunstable connection. I quicken my pace, flinging open the door and praying for a fast hook up to my own Wi-Fi connection before the call drops entirely.
It doesn’t happen.
I call back immediately.
“Ruth, honey, what’s going on?”
“They… my brother. And my best friend.” She all but spits the words, anger cutting through her tears. “Behind my fucking back.”
“Oh, honey.”
