the song. Dancing. Quint giving me that look of bewilderment. Slipping on the spilled beer. Hitting my head …
If it’s not coincidence, then that means that somehow, for some reason … it’s been me. I’ve been causing these things. I’ve been … exacting instant karma on people.
“Pru? Are you okay?”
My attention darts up to see Ari strolling back through the sand. She grabs a towel off the back of one of the beach chairs and wraps it around her waist. She’s still mostly dry, though sand is clinging to her ankles.
“Yeah,” I say, my stomach fluttering. “That was weird, right?”
She laughs. “So weird. But so perfect. Is he always like that?”
“Pretty much. Jackson’s always been a bully. It’s nice to see him get what’s coming to him, for once.” I lean toward her, lowering my voice. “I bet you anything that shirt cost a couple hundred dollars. He’ll try to play it cool, but believe me, this is killing him.”
Ari flops onto the towel and pulls a soda from the small cooler we brought. She pops the tab, then holds the can up toward the water, as if in a toast. “Nice work, ocean.” Then she glances around. “I just hope that girl’s okay.”
I don’t respond. I’m distracted, looking around at the beach towels and blankets and chairs that have taken over the shore. I’m distracted by Jackson, using the corner of a towel to get water out of his ears.
“I’ll be right back.” I turn and hike up the sandy beach, seeking solitude along the rocky cliff side. It’s too early for the infamous make-out sessions to have begun, and it’s easy for me to find an empty alcove among the towering rocks. I lean against a boulder and press my hand to my chest. My heart races underneath my skin.
“This is just wishful thinking,” I whisper. “A fairy tale. Brought on by end-of-year stress, and all those fantasies of wanting to punish people when they deserve it, and … maybe a slight concussion.”
Despite my rational words, my brain shoots back a number of counterarguments. The song. The car accident. The wave.
But every time I start to think—maybe it was me—I chastise myself. Am I really considering the possibility that I sang a karaoke song, and now I have … what? Magic powers? Some sort of cosmic gift? The completely preposterous ability to bestow the justice of the universe?
“Coincidences,” I repeat, beginning to pace. Sand gets into my sandals and I kick them off. I march back and forth between the rocks. “That’s all this is. A bunch of bizarre coincidences.”
But—
I pause.
Too many coincidences have to mean something.
I push my hair back from my face with both hands. I need to be sure. I need proof.
I need to see if I can do it again, on purpose this time.
Gnawing on my lower lip, I peek out through a gap in the rocks, surveying the crowded beach. I’m not sure what I’m looking for. Inspiration, I guess. Someone here must be deserving of punishment for something.
My gaze lands on none other than Quint. He’s helping a few of our peers set up a volleyball net.
Ha. Perfect. If anyone deserves cosmic retribution for their behavior this year, it is definitely Quint Erickson.
I think of all the times he was late. All the times he slacked off. How he left me to fend for myself on presentation day.
How he absolutely refuses to help me redo our semester project.
I squeeze my fist tight.
And wait.
“Hey, Quint,” says a girl from our class, striding over to him. I perk up. What is she going to do? Slap him for some mysterious melodrama I’m not aware of?
“How’s it going?” says Quint, returning her smile.
“Good. I brought some homemade cookies. Want one?” She holds out a tin.
“Heck yeah, I want one,” he says, taking a cookie. “Thanks.”
“Of course.” She beams at him before walking away.
I’m dumbfounded.
I mean, I guess the cookie could be poisoned? But I highly doubt it.
Quint devours the cookie, then finishes staking down the net.
I keep watching for another minute, utterly confused. Soon it becomes clear that nothing horrible is about to befall Quint. In fact, once the volleyball game starts, he scores the first point for his team, receiving a round of whoops and high fives.
Pouting, I finally relax my fist.
“Well. There’s that,” I mutter. The disappointment is hard to swallow, but I’m not sure if I’m more disappointed in the universe, or myself, for almost believing something so absurd.