by Gina Finley
Shane nods from the other side of the fire.
“Got it,” Tyler says. “I’ll make sure Fox is done by then.”
I nod and look around. There are hundreds of kids crowded on the beach. We’ve got three different bonfires roaring. There’s a table set up with food and drinks. Not sure who brought that shit, but it’s there. Music is pumping from someone’s bluetooth speaker. We’ve already been out on the water for our night surf.
I take a deep breath of the evening air.
I feel invincible.
This is my time.
“Hey, Dash,” a girl says on my left.
I turn and look at her. I don’t know her. She’s short, built like a gymnast. She’s got a tiny red bikini top on and her tits are spilling out of it. Her denim shorts are unbuttoned at the waist and I can see her matching bikini bottoms just beneath her waist. She’s got blond hair and big pouty lips.
“Hey,” I say.
She comes up close to me. “I saw you out there. Surfing. Weren’t you cold?”
“Do I look cold now?”
She puts her hand on my bare stomach. I’m standing there in just my board shorts.
“Not at all,” she says, running her hand over my skin. “I was just wondering.”
“Do I know you?” I ask.
“Larissa,” she says. “I’m a sophomore. You should know me.” She slides her hand down toward my waist. “You’d like me.”
I move her hand away. “Maybe later. Not now.”
She wrinkles her nose and looks at Shane, then Tyler. “What are you guys doing?”
“Telling you to leave,” I say. “If I want you, I’ll find you later.”
She purses her lips. “Are you sure?”
“Did I stutter?”
She blinks several times, then turns and walks away.
“Fucking jail bait,” I say, shaking my head.
“Looked fun, though,” Tyler says.
“I’ll have fun later,” I tell him. “Need to stay focused for later tonight.”
“Whitney was checking you out a few minutes ago,” he says. “Just fyi.”
Shane leans forward, warms his hands near the fire.
“Oh yeah?” I say. “Where’s she at?”
He points up the beach. “Just up there. Looking fine, too, if I may say.”
My eyes scan the beach until I see her. Bright pink hoodie, surrounded by her friends.
“You may say,” I tell him, winking at him.
“You getting back with her?” Tyler asks. “That gonna be your thing this year?”
I make a face. “Hardly. Not into retreads. But I’m okay if she thinks that’s gonna happen.”
“Who is gonna be your thing this year then?” he asks.
“Who says there’s gonna be a thing?” I say. “Maybe there will be lots of things.”
He laughs. “Fair.” He stands up. “I’m gonna track down Fox so he’s not late. Be back.” He trudges off down the sand.
“You ready?” I ask, looking at Shane.
He holds his hands by the flames and nods.
“Figured,” I say. “You always are. These other two clowns I have to worry about.”
He almost cracks a smile.
I look up the beach.
I see Whitney and her little crew walking to the north.
I smile. “I think the night is just about to get started.”
SEVEN
Cara
My dad says it’s fine if I go to the party. In fact, he wants me to go.
I knew he would.
So now I’m riding my bike toward school because he went back to his job site and I don’t have a car to get around. I don’t mind riding and if I do end up drinking, it’ll be safer this way. It’s a nice night and there’s something refreshing about having the breeze blow through my hair as I pull into the school parking lot.
The lot is full and it looks like it did earlier during the day, as I guess this is where everyone parks to go to the beach. I lock my bike up at the rack and walk across the dark campus until I find the stairs that lead down to the beach.
Even from the top, I can hear the noise. Music. People yelling. Laughter. Smoke drifts up into the sky in big, gray swirls. I can smell the ocean as I descend the long set of wooden steps built into the side of the cliffs. As I get closer, I can see hundreds of people on the beach.
My stomach knots.
So many people.
And I know no one.
Well, I guess I can count Lucy. And I know of other people, but I don’t know them.
I pause on the stairs.
This suddenly feels like a mistake, like I’m throwing myself into the lion’s den.
I take a deep breath, try to calm myself.
It’s just a party. The worst that can happen is I don’t stay long and I leave early.
“You can do this,” I say out loud.
Then I force myself to descend the rest of the stairs.
The music is louder down here and people are clustered in groups. Laughing, talking, drinking. The fires are huge, big clusters of orange and yellow that snap and crack in the dark. I see a few people look at me and I’m sure they’re wondering what I’m doing here.
I turn to my right and down the beach, I see a giant rock. Lucy was right. It’s impossible to miss. It’s at least forty feet tall and shaped like an almond, standing on its end.
I kick my shoes off and make my way down the sand toward the rock. The sand is cold beneath my feet and it’s much cooler down here next to the water. I keep my head down, but look ahead, walking as quickly as I can.
I hate feeling like I don’t fit in. It’s the most awkward feeling in the world and I dread it more than anything. I don’t care if I’m not some popular kid or don’t have some huge group of friends, but I hate the feeling of sticking out because I’m alone.
I reach the rock. There are a lot of people here, but I manage to spot Lucy. I weave through the crowd and tap her on the shoulder.
She turns and it takes her a moment, but then she smiles. “You came.”
“You sort of guilted me into it.”
“Did I?” she says. “I didn’t mean to.”
“No, it’s okay. I probably needed it.”
“You want a beer?” Lucy asks, reaching into a bright red cooler.
“Uh...sure.”
She unscrews the top and hands me the bottle. I’m not much of a drinker, but I know it will probably help calm my nerves. I take a long sip. The beer is cold running down my throat, but it gives me something else to focus on for a few seconds.
I look around. “There are a lot of people here.”
Lucy nods. “Yeah. It’s always a pretty big thing. Some of the guys go surfing, too.”
“At night?”
She nods again. “Yeah. Surfing is kind of a big deal around here. Have you ever done it?”
I shake my head. “Not ever.”
“It’s fun. You should try.”
“Maybe.”
We stand there awkwardly for a minute and I drink some more of the beer. This is what I was afraid of what would happen if I came. We’d make polite conversation for a minute or two and then we’d stand around, trying to figure out how to talk to one another.
She pulls out her phone and glances at it.
Great.
We’ve already reached the awkward point where we pretend to check our phones.
I take another drink.
“Hey,” she says, shoving her phone back in her pocket. “I wanna show you something.”
I shrug. “Okay.”
She motions for me to follow her through the crowd. We maneuver through the people until there’s finally a little space.
“These rocks are pretty crazy,” she says, nodding at them. “Every year, people try to climb them and end up falling and getting hurt.”
“They probably shouldn’t do that then.”
“You’d think they’d learn,” she says. “Happens every year,
though.”
I look up at the rocks. There’s no way I’d even think about doing something like that, no matter how much I had to drink.
I notice we’re getting further away from the party. “Where are we going?”
“Oh...um, you’ll see,” she says. “It’s just this...cool thing that everyone has to see.”
I’m still confused, but at least we aren’t just standing around, looking at our phones, desperately trying to find something to say to one another.
She stops and points past this one large, jagged rock that’s at least fifteen feet tall. “There. Take a look.”
I hesitate for just a second, then walk past her toward the edge of the rock. I see some sand, the hillside, and...not much else.
“I don’t get it,” I say.
“It’s behind the rock,” Lucy says. “Keep going.”
I look at her for a second, then turn back toward the rock and walk around it.
And instead of something interesting, I find Whitney and some of her friends.
“Hello, loser,” Whitney says, grinning at me. “Glad you could make it.”
I’m confused for a moment and then turn around to see if Lucy can make sense of this.
But she’s gone.
And then it hits me.
I’ve been set up.
“Good work, Luce,” Whitney yells. “Well done, girl.”
A cold, hard knot sets in my stomach as I turn back around to face Whitney.
“I wanted to make sure you remembered your first party at Diamond Cove,” Whitney says. “Wanted to make sure it was...extra special.”
“I’m leaving,” I say, backing up. “I don’t know what you think–”
Her hands are on me before I can stop her and she drags me to the sand and I’m face down. The beer bottle falls out of my hand. I feel her on my back, pinning me to the ground, her hands pressing down hard on my wrists. I’m kicking and flailing, but can’t move and I feel other sets of hands on me now.
“Coming into our school and disrespecting Dash?” she says, her mouth by my ear. “That was seriously fucking stupid.”
Panic is raging through me now and I feel a hand pulling on my hair. It hurts. I’m still trying to get out from beneath her, beneath all of them, but I can’t. I’m not strong enough.
“Let me go!” I yell.
Whitney laughs. “We will, don’t worry. But it’s going to be a minute.” She pauses. “Okay, get them off of her.”
For a second, I think she means for the other girls to get off of me.
But then I realize that’s not it.
It’s my clothes.
They are pulling my clothes off.
I feel my jeans come down over my hips and ass, the sand cold against my bare thighs. They are laughing as they do it, holding me in place and stripping me. My T-shirt and sweatshirt are pulled over my head, yanked over my arms as they hold me in place. There are tears streaming down my face and I’m trying to yell, but Whitney’s hand is clamped over my mouth.
I feel some of the hands come off of me and I try to bite Whitney’s hand, but she pulls it away before my teeth can catch her flesh. She digs her knees into my back, then pushes off me. “Now you can get up, bitch.”
I scramble to my knees, feeling like a wounded animal. I’m in nothing but my bra and underwear. The air is cold against my skin and I might as well be naked.
“I said you can get up,” Whitney says, surrounded by her pals, several of them holding my clothes. “Can you not hear me?”
“Give me my clothes,” I say.
She laughs. “Those are mine now. Not that I’d ever fucking wear them, but they belong to me now. And I would think long and hard the next time you want to pop off to Dash or anyone else at this school. This is just a taste of what you’ll get next time.” She smiles at me and it’s the smile of the devil. “Good luck getting your ugly ass home. Stay warm.”
The rest of the girls laugh as she turns and walks back toward the party, then fall in line behind her, leaving me alone.
I stay there on my knees for a few seconds, paralyzed.
I have no clothes.
I have no friends.
And there’s no way in hell I’m walking back through that party without clothes on.
I look at the hillside.
It’s dirt and rocks but it’s not straight up. From where I’m kneeling, I think it should take me right back up to the parking lot.
I know they want me to run back through the party so everyone can point and laugh.
But I won’t give them the satisfaction.
Instead, I get to my feet, brush away the tears from my face and start making my way up the hillside. The rocks are hard and cold under my bare feet, but there’s enough of them and they’re spaced in a way that allows me to sort of crab walk up the side of the hill. The breeze off the ocean is cold against my back, but the adrenaline has kicked in and I’m nearly sweating as I keep working my way upward. My heart is hammering in my chest as I grab onto rocks and keep my balance. I wonder if anyone is watching from down below, but I don’t look back. I can hear the voice and the music, but I won’t turn around.
By the time I reach the top, my hands are raw and my feet are covered in dirt.
But I make it.
And I’m in the parking lot.
And then I realize my bike is locked up and my keys are in the pocket of my jeans, which are no longer on my body.
Panic starts to seize me again, but I force myself to breathe. I can run home if I need to. I just need to get out of here.
I start moving through the cars, staying low, hoping no one can see me. If I can make it to the edge of the lot, I can get to the street and then just run. And hope no one sees me. I don’t have any other choice.
But then I hear them.
Or, rather, him.
Dash.
I stop next to the closest car and lean against it, staying as low as I can. I can hear them talking, but can’t make out their words. My heart is hammering again.
And they are coming right toward me.
I do the first thing that comes to mind.
I pull on the door of the car I’m standing behind.
An SUV.
And it mercifully opens.
I push open the tailgate, scramble inside, and pull the gate back down. There are blankets here in the back area and I quickly pull them over me, not even wanting to risk having them look in the window and see me.
But they don’t walk by.
They get in.
EIGHT
Dash
“Everyone is clear on what they’re doing?” I ask.
Shane nods. He’s driving and he always knows what he’s doing. I never worry about him. He’s steady and always has his head on straight. It’s the other two I have to manage.
“Got it,” Fox says.
“We’re good,” Tyler says.
I nod from the passenger seat. “I wanna be in and out in under four minutes. No mistakes. Clear?”
They all indicate that they’re clear.
I take a deep breath, exhale.
Nerves are good. They keep you on edge, keep you sharp. I remind myself of that.
Shane maneuvers the Explorer into the Emerald Bay subdivision of homes. Every subdivision in Diamond Cove has some ridiculous name like Emerald Bay.
Opal Hills.
Sapphire Farms.
Jade Trail.
They all have different names and it’s how people identify where they live in Diamond Cove. But Emerald Bay is the neighborhood with the biggest homes, the best views, and the shiniest cars.
It’s where I live with my father.
But we’re not going to my house.
Tonight we are going to a house that belongs to the Taylor family. They live three streets over from us, in a small cul-de-sac that does look down at the bay. House is maybe six thousand square feet and Edwin Taylor has a Ferrari parked in his four car garage. There’s an infinity pool outback s
tyled exactly like the one we have in our backyard. I know that because he asked my father for the design plans when he built it.
Shane cuts the lights on the Explorer as we turn into the cul-de-sac and he stops at the curb, three houses down from the Taylors.
“Cover up,” I say, then reach down to the floor and grab the black balaclava. I pull it on over my head while the other three do the same. “No one should be home, but be ready in case they are. Fox, you have the alarm code?”
“Memorized,” he says. “We’re solid.”
I reach down to the floor again and lift my gun, a Glock G30. I tuck it into my waistband. “We ready?”
They all tell me they are.
I check the Apple Watch on my wrist and set the timer for 4 minutes. I tap the screen and it starts getting down. “Let’s roll.”
We exit the Explorer and I’m ahead of them. We’ve already gone over our roles a handful of times. We know what each one of us should be doing, so I’m not looking over my shoulder to check on them.
Fox shows up on my left just as we reach the front door. The interior behind the frosted windows of the front door is dark.
Good.
They are supposed to be in Bermuda or The Bahamas or some other warm island country that starts with a B. Like I give a shit.
Tyler slides the slim metal tool between the doors and four seconds later, the lock clicks and he pushes the door open. I follow him inside. The alarm is beeping furiously and Fox walks to the box, taps in the code and the beeping stops.
We don’t say a word and move to the rooms I’ve assigned each of us. I take the downstairs office and push through the French doors. I’ve been in this house maybe half a dozen times and I know it inside and out. I know that this office is where Edwin likes to make phone calls and smoke cigars and pretend he’s got as much money as my dad.
He fucking wishes.
I know there’s a safe behind the huge portrait of his family that’s hung up behind his mahogany desk. I lift the portrait off the wall and set it on the floor. I know the code to the safe is twenty-four thirty-two twenty two because he bragged to my father that he’d set it up to use the ages of his first three wives when he married them, trying to impress my father by telling him that he’d married younger women. My father politely acknowledged the joke, but knew just like everyone else did that they only married his fat ass for his money.
