compressed into the last two hours. Without Kaylee, responsibility hasn’t exactly come easy, but I’ve been managing. Doing my best. Who will I be with her here to remind me? I grit my teeth and throw open the car door.
I hear Kaylee almost before I see her. “Excuse me, coming through, on a mission here.” She’s jostling through a crowd of people at the mouth of the ramp, amber-gold strands of waist-length hair flying out behind her, purple duffle as big as she is slung over one shoulder. It came with my suitcase. Kaylee borrowed it for a school trip in ninth or tenth grade, and it became part of her permanent collection.
She’s wearing a tiny pair of white shorts and a bright orange bandeau tank that shows off her sun-bronzed arms and a neon green belly ring. That’s new. She stops abruptly in the middle of the ramp, forcing her fellow travelers to part around her in a sea of grumbles. Her hand shoots into the air in a frantic wave, as if I could have possibly missed her. “Anna!”
“Hey, Kaylee!” I force my lips to part into a big toothy grin and wave back. “Come on, you’re holding up the show.”
She rushes the rest of the way down the ramp, and before I know what’s happening, Kaylee is wrapped around me in a tangle of arms and hair and summer breeze body mist. I stiffen for just a beat, then let my body sink into the familiar comfort of my best friend. I can’t help it. Despite everything, I’ve missed her.
* * *
If Kaylee’s still mad at me, she doesn’t let on. From her perch in the passenger’s seat, she fills me in on everything I’ve missed over the past two weeks, which isn’t a whole lot. She got her belly button pierced on the day I left, a graduation present to herself. I’m a little bit jealous. Kaylee’s eighteen already. I’ve never really minded being the baby of our class, but I won’t turn eighteen until almost the end of my first semester of college. It’s not that I want a neon belly ring specifically, but I wouldn’t mind getting a tattoo at the end of the summer. Something to commemorate my time in Herron Mills, or the start of fall. My new leaf.
As I navigate slowly through the increasing crush of holiday weekend traffic, Kaylee chatters on about Mike’s current hookup and this new Hawaiian-themed bar that’s going in on Seventy-Fourth and Fifth. I wonder if an autumn leaf would be too clichéd, maybe on my ankle?
“Turn here,” Kaylee says, pointing toward an upcoming side road. She has her phone out, directions pulled up on the screen. Her silver hoop earrings flash in the sun.
“Where are we going?” I ask, but I’m already making the turn.
“Supply run. There’s a liquor store in point five miles.”
I narrow my eyes behind my sunglasses but keep driving. Starr used to keep us stocked in booze before she moved, but we don’t have Starr or her ID here in the Hamptons.
“They’re gonna card. It’s a holiday weekend.”
“It’ll be fine,” Kaylee says. “You worry too much.”
And Kaylee doesn’t worry nearly enough, but I figure if they do card us, it won’t be the worst thing. Let Kaylee be mad at the store. We’ll just have to figure out some boozeless activity to keep us occupied.
Suddenly, Kaylee is tugging on my sleeve. “Pull over, pull over!”
I hit the brakes and steer us to the side, startled. The car behind me honks, then swerves around us while I fumble with Emilia’s hazards. Kaylee flings her door open and leaps onto the sidewalk.
“Becca, holy shit!” She wraps her arms around a petite Chinese girl with a nose ring and hot pink streaks in her hair. She’s standing on the sidewalk with a lanky white guy in a possibly ironic muscle shirt and board shorts. They’re both carrying shopping bags. “When did this happen?” Kaylee squeals, releasing the girl from her hug and running her fingers through her hair.
I join them on the sidewalk, and the girl introduces her boyfriend to us as Zeb. “I’m Anna.” I stick out my hand to Zeb, then offer it to the girl.
She giggles and raises a hand to cover her mouth. “I remember,” she says.
Kaylee narrows her eyes at me. “You remember Becca, right? Her hair was blue in the winter.”
I squint at the girl’s face. Becca. She doesn’t look remotely familiar. “Sure,” I say. “It looks so