embarrassment, hurt … or just the shadows as the sun sinks into the horizon.
It doesn’t really matter. It was a mean thing to say. This whole conversation feels born out of cruelty, an unnecessary dialogue intended to mock Jude, for no other reason than to boost Maya Livingstone’s inflated ego.
And for her to be mean to Jude, of all people. Patient, thoughtful Jude, who is beloved by all. Who has no enemies. Who can slip into any conversation, sit at any lunch table, attend any party.
And yeah, maybe he plays D&D on the weekends, and reads books with dragons on the covers, and was legitimately excited to go to his first Renaissance Faire last summer. He even wore a tunic and, in my opinion, he looked downright chivalrous in it, too. But I hate to think what Maya or her friends would say if they ever saw the photos.
I stare daggers at the top of Maya’s head. How dare she hurt him like that?
My fist tightens.
This time, I feel it. The tiniest, almost imperceptible jolt in the base of my stomach. Like the flip of your insides when you do an underwater somersault, but more subtle.
Except, still, nothing happens.
I wait. And I wait.
The sun disappears, casting the sky in shades of violet. The first stars begin to blink and shimmer. The cliffs are lit in flickers of gleaming orange from the bonfire.
Maya sits up and reaches for the long sweater beside her towel. I watch her thread her arms through the sleeves. I feel bitter, and more than a little annoyed. At her. At myself. At the universe.
I sigh and finally leave the safety of my haven. Enough of this. I haven’t inherited some magical power for restoring balance to the universe. For punishing the wicked and the unworthy.
Time to move on.
Jude and Ari are on our shared blankets. Ari is playing something on her guitar and a handful of people have even stopped to listen, a few of them dropping into the sand in a little half circle around her. But Jude is looking off toward the waves, his posture sullen. I don’t have to see his face to know he’s brooding. He must have heard Maya after all.
It makes me angry all over again.
I start to move toward them, when I hear a gasp. A horrible, startled sound.
“No! No, no, no. You can’t be serious.”
I slowly turn around. Maya is on her hands and knees, frantically digging around in the sand.
“What?” says Katie, backing away as Maya flips up the edge of her towel. “What is it?”
“My earring,” says Maya. “I’ve lost an earring! Stop staring and help me look!”
Her friends still look a little baffled, but they don’t argue. All three of them are soon rooting through the sand. Every now and then Maya pauses to feel her ear, then pat down her sweater and check her hair. It soon becomes obvious that her search is in vain.
A smile stretches across my lips, and I think I understand something.
Instant karma.
Maybe it has to be instant. An immediate retribution for a wrongdoing. Nothing happened to Quint because our fight was hours ago.
But Maya was being mean now.
Her expression is pained, even bordering on tears, by the time she gives up searching, but I don’t feel the tiniest bit sorry. Her earring might have been fancy and expensive. I can see its match dangling from her other ear. It’s a drop earring, with a single stone in the center of its design that I think might be a diamond. Maybe they belong to her mom, who will be so mad that one was lost. Or maybe it was some piece of memorabilia to commemorate one of Maya’s many achievements—“Student of the Week” or “I gave blood!” or something. It doesn’t matter to me. She hurt my brother, and she deserves to pay the price.
Pivoting on my heels, I start to head back to my friends. There’s a new bounce in my step. My fingers are tingling, as if this unexpected cosmic power is swirling in my veins.
I’m so distracted that I almost don’t notice the volleyball soaring toward me. Instinct takes over and I duck, screaming.
A figure emerges in my periphery, smacking the ball and sending it back toward the net.
I look up, blinking, my arms still held protectively over my head.
Quint’s lips are pinched, his eyes dancing. It’s clear he’s doing all he can to not laugh at me. “What did you think it was, a shark?”