The age I was when everything went wrong.
This is supposed to mean something, a part of me registers. I’m supposed to forgive that thirteen-year-old version of me because she was young and scared and she was just doing the best that she could at the time. I’m supposed to be kind to thirteen-year-old Grace, and seeing thirteen-year-old Rosie is supposed to remind me of that.
But it doesn’t.
“I’m sorry, Rosie. Happy birthday. What else did I miss?”
Rosie shrugs. “Nothing. I find there is a lack of international intrigue at the moment.” For a second, her German accent is so heavy that she sounds like a spy in a black-and-white movie. “The prime minister is still in a coma, you know.”
“I know.”
“So …”
“So what?”
“So it seems more than a little coincidental that the Scarred Man is supposed to be the prime minister’s head of security. And you think the Scarred Man killed your mother. And then the prime minister has a ‘heart attack’” — she makes air quotes around the words as she says them — “and ends up in a coma!”
It’s not a coincidence. But it’s not the truth either. And no matter how much I care for Noah and Rosie, that’s the last thing I can tell them.
“I know you’re thinking that it’s Dominic’s fault. But you’re wrong. I was wrong. I’m sorry.”
“For what?” Noah asks, genuinely confused.
For lying to you.
For lying to me.
For ruining your lives.
But I can’t say any of that, so I just ask, “Where’s the party?”
There should be music and lights and the not-so-hushed voices of people scurrying through the darkness, but Noah and Rosie and I are virtually alone in the moonlight. It feels like we’re the only people in Adria as Noah raises a finger and points to the inky darkness of the Mediterranean.
“There.”
I look, but I see nothing but stars and sky and salty water reaching all the way to the Italian coast. The moon is rising behind us, and the water looks so dark, so bleak. Once upon a time they thought the world was flat, and sometimes I still do. I want to swim out there, farther and farther until I reach the edge.
But then I see it.
There is a fire flickering in the distance, a tiny dot in the ocean of black sea and starry sky. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust and make out the dark outline of trees, for me to remember the island that rests three or four miles offshore. As kids, Jamie used to tell me it was filled with monsters — dragons and minotaurs and the ghosts of the people who, a thousand years ago, let the city fall. And right now I’d prefer any of those creatures to the beasts I know are gathering on the island’s shores.
I want to run away, to tell Noah and Rosie I’m sick or afraid of water or just plain afraid. But that’s the thing about being the girl who’s spent years convincing the world she’s not afraid of anything: At some point, someone is going to find out you’re afraid of everything.
I’m just starting to open my mouth, to protest or turn away, when Noah points to the motorboat that has appeared on the horizon and is coming toward us fast. “Here’s our ride.”
I’m pretty sure my jaw drops. My excuses fade away. The moonlight catches the long black hair that blows behind the girl who stands at the controls of the boat that’s pulling up to the end of the pier.
I’m fresh out of excuses when Megan looks at us and says, “Get in.”
“They say the island is bigger than the city, but I don’t think it looks that big. Do you think it looks that big?” Rosie has been talking nonstop since we left the pier. I’m starting to think she might be afraid of water. She’s in a puffy orange life vest and clinging to the side of the boat. “I guess maybe it could be that big, but … Everyone says it’s haunted, but I don’t believe it.”
“Why?” Noah asks, teasing. He nudges her gently with his shoulder. “Don’t you believe in ghosts, Rosie?”
“Oh, no.” Rosie sounds serious. “Of course I believe in ghosts. I just don’t think they’d waste their time haunting an island where no one ever goes.”
“But if people didn’t think it was haunted then they might go there … and give ghosts a reason to haunt it,” Noah tries.
But Megan shakes her head. “No one goes there because it is three-point-six miles from shore; there are no docks and no bathrooms, not to mention no Wi-Fi, cell signals, or running water.”
Noah shrugs. “That too.”
“There are dragons.” I don’t realize I’ve said the words aloud until Rosie spins on me.
“Really?”
Her eyes are impossibly big and blue.
“No.”
At that, Rosie looks incredibly disappointed, but recovers quickly.
“So, Grace …” she starts slowly. “I was thinking that now that you’re feeling better, we should probably start —”
“No,” I say again, cutting her off.
“You don’t even know what I was going to say!”
I don’t need to hear what she has to say to know my answer. “Dominic is just a man with a scar, Rosie. The prime minister had a bad heart and Dominic didn’t kill my mom. He didn’t.”
The last words I say only for myself. I lean closer to the edge of the speedboat and let the mist hit me in my face. It makes me feel alive. Behind us, the lights of Valancia grow dimmer, and on the horizon the island looms larger.