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Is he trying to intimidate me with his posse of Very Important People? It’s working.
No it’s not!
I try to arch my shoulders. Try to appear tall. He’s way taller. “There was a bad storm recently, I heard.”
Now he makes a confused face. Like small talk is a weird concept for someone like me. “There’s always storms.”
“One where a girl might’ve been caught out on the lake? That doesn’t happen very often.”
His smile slowly grows. “You’ve been talking to your brother, haven’t you?”
“I don’t know what you’re—”
“He’s been rambling for weeks now. About a mayday call and some imaginary girl.” He laughs. “It’s actually kind of sad. How far gone he is. I always imagined he’d go down a dark path—booze, maybe drugs—but I never thought he’d lose his mind.”
I’m boiling.
Benny tips his wine to his curved lips.
Just as I open my mouth to curse him out, Benny jumps in to say, “About your book.”
“Keep my book out of your mouth,” I snap, really meaning to say—keep my brother out of your mouth. Whatever. I’ll take it.
I maintain my fiery stance.
Benny looks surprised. But he doesn’t listen. “I thought you’d like to know that Effie already tried to call a couple New York publishers to get your book cancelled.”
What?
“She did what?” October slips into our conversation. I just now notice that Antler Queen Anna is gone.
Benny tips his head to his cousin. “See, this is why you don’t ditch dinner service early. You’d have all the good gossip.”
October sucks in a tight breath as he passes her a bowl of mussels. “Thanks for the tip, Benny.” Her voice is dry.
I steal a basket of crostini as we begin to leave, and October grabs my hand (fuck yes!)—but Benny also clasps my other wrist (fuck no). With darkened eyes, Benny quickly and quietly whispers to me, “If you want to help your brother, like we all do, then you’ll remind him to move past these delusions. No one wants to see him suffer.”
“Benny,” October says in a scathing, icy tone. “Let her go.”
He releases me. “Think about it, Zoey.”
I’m thinking about something. Like how can I believe Benny? How can I believe that this town cares about Colt enough to not want him to suffer?
They’ve placed him in the lighthouse to be miserable. Right? That was their goal. So why would they want Colt to be anything other than a madman?
I’m so fucking confused.
I tell this to October while we pull away from the white tents. Loitering between the congested firepits and the food.
“Benny might not know anything more than we do,” October says and deserts her mussels on a high-top table.
“So he’s actually concerned about Colt’s mental wellbeing?” That seems extremely far-fetched.
“I don’t know.” October looks disturbed.
“What’d Anna say?”
“I asked her about an Augustine Anders, and she said to drop it. That was all.”
I tense. “So she knows something?”
“I think so, but she’s not going to tell me the truth, Zoey. Whatever Anna Roberts is hiding, the entire town council is likely involved.”
“Does this mean the girl is real?”
October shakes her head, looking doubtful. Her stomach must be knotting because she leaves her mussels behind as we walk towards blankets spread on the beach.
I study Effie at a firepit, her blue-green beach glass crown similar to October’s. She laughs light-heartedly with Milo Brambilla, who I know is Effie’s brother. So who am I more afraid of—Effie or Antler Queen Anna?
I want to say Anna, but Effie is the one digging into my cover story.
She’s her own brand of pretentious and haughty. I’d say the women are like two peas in a pod, but I really don’t know them that well. And my dad always mentioned Effie and Colt’s mom being best friends. Nothing about Anna.
“Do you think Effie figured out why I’m actually here?” I whisper to October.
“No, she wouldn’t be able to keep her mouth shut if she did. It’d be all over town.”
True.
But it’s a little unnerving that Effie will go to the lengths of calling a fucking New York City publisher to sabotage this book. I’m a little miffed. More for the fact that she’s trying to ruin my fake career.
Who does she think she is? Seriously. Plus, her nosiness might actually blow my whole cover if I’m not careful.
October suddenly stops. I almost knock into her shoulder, but I halt quickly. Following her gaze, I realize the problem.
Amelia Roberts.
Miss Mistpoint is sitting all alone on a crocheted blanket. Clearly enough room is left for another butt. I can take a single solitary guess who Amelia saved the spot for.
Her eyes already pin to October in impatience. They practically throw out SOS signals saying, get over here before I look like I have zero point zero friends!
October rotates to me, and I’m transported back to high school.
Back to those days where she had to choose Amelia and her friends over me. Sometimes there wasn’t a choice. Sometimes October took my hand and dragged me with her, but other times, it was clear that no matter how much sway October had, I was not invited.
