Tegan, July

“How is tonight so perfect?” I twirled barefoot in the sand, my phone clutched between my fingers. The boys watched me—Marcus, Brendon, and Chiara’s new boyfriend, Dylan. My brother glowered from a beach chair, watching them watch me, ever my protector. It was July Fourth, Independence Day, and the bonfire was stacked and ready to light. Using my cash, Marcus had come through with two kegs of beer, six cases of hard seltzer, fireworks, and what he called “a little something for later”—blotters of ecstasy.

“Drugs?” I snapped at Shawna when I got her away from Marcus. We’d never included them at our parties before.

She gave me a dark look, still pissed about earlier in the day when I’d mentioned that it wasn’t unusual for husbands to murder their wives. “Don’t be a child,” she said, and Hailey’s eyes darted nervously between the two of us.

I rose to my full height, feeling like an overweight Barbie doll next to Shawna, who was stick thin and as white as milk. She looked exotic and chic in my old black micro dress and large black sunglasses. Her red hair blew around her chiseled face like curling flames. “Child?” I repeated. “Unlike you, Shawna, I’m eighteen. I’m old enough to go to prison.”

She lifted her glasses and slanted her eyes at me. “You act like this is illegal.”

“Did you seriously just say that? Drugs are illegal.”

“Not in small amounts.” Her eyes shot toward Marcus, and he ignored her.

I threw up my arms, thinking of what my mother would do to me if she found out about this. Mom encouraged parties—it was how she networked, after all—but a drug bust would quickly change that. I quelled my anger, forced calm breaths and what I hoped was a cold, reptilian gaze. “I guess I’m not up on current drug laws.”

“It’s no big deal.” Shawna swiped her hand as if erasing me, and went to cuddle with her boyfriend. Rage swarmed through me as I imagined spiking her head like a volleyball and smashing it onto the court. If she hadn’t been high already, this would have been the end for us.

I glanced at Brendon, and he approached me as if summoned. “Want a sunset photo?” he asked.

I wasn’t really in the mood, but like Shawna, I’d pulled out all the stops on my outfit—ice-white ripped jeans with an American flag scarf threaded through the belt loops; a loose-fitting, furry half sweater, also white; and fresh three-hundred-dollar platinum highlights. The stylist had flat-ironed and then curled my hair into flowing golden-cream waves, and had added eyelashes that reached the moon, and silver glitter that made my blue eyes pop like planets. Hammered platinum hoops decorated my ears, and the low-cut top offered flashes of a star-spangled red bikini. I’d exfoliated and oiled my skin until it glowed like bronze. I’d be stupid not to pose for a picture.

“Sure,” I said. “With the girls.” I beckoned to Hailey and Chiara. They’d worked hard decorating all afternoon, and the beach was festive with a dozen tiki torches staked around the bonfire; circles of Adirondack chairs around smaller fire pits for roasting marshmallows; coolers full of water; and wooden bowls filled with fruit, energy bars, and candy laid out for our friends. The girls deserved recognition. “Sunset photo!” I called out to them.

They dropped their conversations and skipped to my side, and we headed to the waves. On the way, my gaze tangled with Shawna’s. She lifted her chin and looked so much like her childhood self that I instantly forgave her and smiled.

She grinned back and tried to join us for the photo, but Marcus yanked her back onto his lap, his fingers clutching her flesh like talons. She dropped her eyes, and my anger resurfaced. He was stealing Shawna just like Chloe had stolen Jessica. He’d even given Shawna a promise ring. I shot him a nasty look that made him laugh.

As Brendon took the photos, the orange sun sank into the Pacific. Afterward he turned up the wireless speakers he’d connected to his phone, and my mood lifted. The few adults hanging out on the beach did exactly what I expected them to do—they left. Our first guests arrived, dressed in red, white, and blue.

I cracked open a White Claw and stood next to Brendon, whispering rumors into his ear about each person who showed up, while he giggled. “Photograph everything,” I commanded him before I turned him loose. He nodded and left, lifting his camera to his eye. “Hailey,” I said, “get Brendon a beer.”

“Okay!” She bounced across the sand and retrieved a beer for him. Next to the massive pile of driftwood, Marcus watched everything.

That’s when Chloe arrived with Jessica Sanchez in tow. The sight of her felt like razor blades in my stomach. Perfect, plain Jessica—wrapped in plaid. Jake’s “girl next door.” Her lack of effort mocked me. At least he was out of town and I didn’t have to watch him follow her around all night. Jake was obsessed with Jessica, and it drove me crazy. What did she have that I didn’t?

“Penny for your thoughts.” My brother sidled up and threw an arm over my shoulder.

“Chloe brought Jessica. I told you she would. This is my party, Grady.” My voice trembled with resentment. It was bad enough that Chloe came to my house and walked her dog with my brother, but to bring Jessica was a slap in the face, and everyone here knew it.

Grady sighed. “It’s been years, Pea, and you never gave Chloe a chance when we were little. She’s a good person. She works hard.” He tightened his arm around me. “Jessica’s all right too. Why do you hate her so much?”

The answer came, unbidden. “She thinks she’s too good for me.”

He lifted a dark blond eyebrow and quirked his lips. “You sure you don’t have that backward?”

I shoved him. “Go fall in love with someone. Not Chloe. And don’t drink.”

“I don’t love Chloe.”

“Just go,” I said, and he sauntered away, so handsome, so young. Grady still played with his magic set and obsessed on his dog like a little boy, taking Boomer exploring and teaching him tricks. My brother could pitch a ball at eighty miles an hour, and at six foot four he towered over most adults, but he was a baby, and his crush on Chloe was left over from his childhood fixation with her, but he didn’t understand her like I did. Chloe’s obsessive energy was not for him. It wasn’t for any boy. It was for athletic glory. But Grady watched her as one watched a wild bird, hoping that one day it would land on his finger.

I sipped my drink, galled, as Jessica and Chloe help themselves to my food.

Over by the huge stack of driftwood, Marcus grabbed a container of lighter fluid, held it to his crotch, and then squirted it all over the stacked wood as if he were peeing on it.

“Don’t!” I started, but it was too late. He lit a match and tossed it, and the bonfire roared toward the sky like a monster. Everyone screamed and cheered.

I’d planned to make a speech about freedom and then light the fire myself while Brendon played “The Star-Spangled Banner” through the speakers, but Marcus had ruined it. My stomach burned and sparked like the fire.

Confused, Brendon played the national anthem anyway, and our friends sang at the top of their lungs. Someone lit off an early firework, and it arced over the sea like a missile. I clenched my jaw. The fireworks weren’t supposed to go off until midnight. Nothing about tonight was going the way I’d planned, and I felt like I was losing control.

If this was a preview of senior year, I already knew I was going to hate it.