This is WAR (28 page)

So Madge spent her days trying to avoid the news, where Willa’s beautiful blonde picture and the Captain’s soundbytes were in heavy rotation. She holed up at the Club with her friends. The Captain had pumped up security to protect her family from the media. At least that’s what he’d said in interviews.

Of course, every time she returned home, she was reminded that everything had been paid for in her sister’s blood. She’d have to learn to live with that, too …

Jude Yang’s car pulled up the drive, and Sloane climbed out. She leaned into the window and said goodbye. Even from the distance, Madge saw his face light up. The two had been spending more time together. Even though he was headed back to school in a couple weeks, Madge knew something had sparked. Lina called out to Sloane, and Madge watched her jog over. The girls laughed together and turned toward the entrance, where they bumped into Rose and James. He squeezed her hand for a beat before hurrying off.

It was hard for Madge to watch Rose and James together. Hard to watch him falling in love after all the years he spent ignoring her sister. But he was entitled to some happiness. He was back in rehab, seeing a therapist, doing community service—not because he had to, but because he’d volunteered. He spent far less time at the Club than in the past. Another sign that Willa Ames-Rowan and James Gregory were never meant to be together. James had pined for Rose long before Willa had died. Probably long before Willa had even developed a crush on him. She wondered how long it would have taken Willa to realize that she didn’t have to be with someone like James just because it
was expected or convenient or profitable. She should have had the chance to figure it out.

Madge listened for her friends’ footsteps on the wood stairs.

“Creeper! Were you spying on us?” Lina pushed open the door to the attic and laughed at Madge, still perched at the window.

“Bird’s eye view.” Madge raised her eyebrows.

Sloane threw herself into the old couch. “I can’t believe you’re leaving for school tomorrow, Lina. Why can’t you stay around here like the rest of us?”

Lina snorted. “Yeah right. You think my parents could wait until college to get rid of me?”

Madge knew the housekeeper had probably spent the last week packing her up for boarding school just like all the other years.

“We’ll be okay, though, right?” Rose asked.

Madge considered her question and wondered what it really meant to be okay. Had she ever been okay? Would she ever be okay? She’d finally removed Willa’s flip-flops from under her bed. Did that mean anything?

“Better than okay, we’ll be fabulous,” she said at last. Even if she wasn’t sure it was true, it was exactly what Willa would have said. It felt good to borrow one of her lines.

Just then her phone buzzed. In a fleeting instant of forgetfulness and habit, she wondered if it was her sister calling to yell at the girls for not waiting for her or to ask Madge if she could borrow her turquoise necklace or warn her that Carol was pissed again. But then she remembered.

That habit would be hard to break.

When she looked down, she had a new text from an unknown number. Her heart raced. It was the kind of text
that you knew not to open, Spam or a virus or something that would otherwise destroy your phone: a single link, like the one Trip had sent. But it didn’t take long for Madge to recognize the address.

www.thisiswar.com

And one by one, the other girls’ phones sounded and buzzed. Their foreheads wrinkled in confusion.

“I thought Jude took this down, right Sloane?” Lina asked.

Before she could stop herself, Madge clicked the link, her heart pounding now. When the website came into view, it looked different. Madge released the air she’d trapped in her lungs.
Thank God
.

“Someone else stole our site,” Rose said.

“But …” Sloane turned her phone toward the girls. There were 10,541 comments. Madge narrowed her eyes and took the phone, clicking the newest comment. It featured another link, and before clicking, she looked up. All the girls nodded. When she clicked, the browser took them to some town’s local paper and a short article appeared on the screen with an accompanying picture.

Boy Accused of Date Rape Faces Vigilante Justice

The picture was blurry, obviously taken with a phone. A boy around their age was bound to a telephone pole at a busy intersection in New Haven, Connecticut. It wasn’t the fact that he was completely naked aside from a lacy bra and boxer shorts that made Madge drop her phone. It was the acronym that had been scrawled across his chest in thick black marker.

W.A.R
.

Willa regretted getting in the boat with James almost as soon as he’d gunned the motor, heading toward the sandbar in the middle of the lake at breakneck speed. The boat crashed against the water, making her head spin and her eyes blur. She was tired but she didn’t want to fall asleep. Not when she was finally alone with James Gregory. Even though something inside her resisted the turn of the night, something screamed at her to be careful, she was still with James. She might as well make the most of it
.

When he turned off the engine, Willa knew this was her chance. Her moment. She slid closer to him, closed her eyes and went in for the kiss
.

“Rose …” he mumbled
.

“What the hell?” She felt a surge of rage. But still, she was not nearly as surprised as she could have been. She saw how James’s eyes had scanned the crowd for the strange girl, saw the hurt on his face when she slipped away out of his reach.
Willa’s eyes grew heavy as she remembered. The rage faded. The truth was she was too tired to feel anything. So tired. That stupid pill Trip had given her must have had something awful in it
.

She slumped down on the cushioned bench of the boat and finally let her eyes shut. A warmth spread over her. It had never felt so good to sleep
.

She didn’t open her eyes again until she felt the boat rock slightly and heard the motor of another boat idling in the background. James was slumped over at the other end, his chest rising with shallow breaths. Even though he was sleeping, she was relieved to see she wasn’t alone
.

“… Take it slow. It’s dark …”

She recognized Trip’s voice and heard her sister call back asking if it was okay. Typical Madge, always worrying. Willa felt a quick pang of regret. She shouldn’t have bolted like that. That was stupid. Madge was probably ready to kill her. She opened her mouth to call out but couldn’t form the words. She could barely move her lips
.

“Willa? Willa? You awake?” Trip shook her gently and stroked her cheek. “I’m sorry for this.”

Instinct told her to play dead even though there was nothing she wanted more than to dive into the cool water and grasp her sister’s hand for help onto her boat. She’d smile brightly and force Madge to return it. A truce. The fireworks were about to start and they always watched together. But Trip scared her then. He was always so playful and fun, never taking himself or life seriously. But his words didn’t sound like a joke
.

“What about you, James? Ready to know how it feels to be guilty?” Willa heard the dull thud of foot meeting stomach. “Too sleepy, huh? You’re welcome for that special
cocktail I whipped up after I had some fun with Rose. Shame you guys never got to see each other tonight.” Trip laughed at his own joke
.

Willa heard him make his way back to her end of the boat. And then she knew to scream. She lifted her head as much as she could, struggled to prop herself up on her elbows. The world spun when she opened her eyes, but she knew she had to open them. She needed help
.

“MA …” Only the first part of her sister’s name escaped her mouth before his strong fingers clamped over her lips. She felt one arm circle around her waist as he continued to seal her mouth shut with the other. His muscles bulged as he lifted her. As hard as she tried to bite down on his fingers, she couldn’t even open her lips. Screams were muffled, barely audible over the lapping of the water—not to mention the fireworks that lit the sky above her. All she could think about was that she was supposed to be with Madge. If only she’d left with Madge
.

He released his hand from her mouth, her eyes wildly searching his for a split second before he dumped her body into the lake. Cold, black lake water closed over her. What the hell did he think he was doing? This wasn’t funny. But her head was still cloudy, and her arms and legs weren’t cooperating when she told them to kick, swim, do anything
.

And for a while there was only the darkness and her sick sense of regret. How could she have let this happen? How could she have left Madge and her friends for some stupid guy who was in love with someone else? God, she probably deserved to drown for being such a complete idiot. She pulled at the murky water, her instincts kicking in for a beat, but she was so tired and confused. The night made the lake thick like
tar. She lost track of the surface. It would be so easy to stop fighting
.

But then she thought of Madge standing on the edge of the boat, screaming her name, and she stopped kicking for a moment, let her body hang in the water so she could feel the upward pull. As soon as she felt the tug, she clawed her way up. Because Willa knew that the brave thing to do was to fight
.

It was always tempting to give up and let go, like covering your eyes during the scary part of a movie
.

Sometimes it was easier to choose death over life, but it was so much more extraordinary to stare down tragedy and decide to survive. That’s where the real story started
.

And floating on her back in the darkness of Hawthorne Lake, fireworks exploding overhead and scattering through the sky like rain, Willa chose to live. Willa chose extraordinary. She had never once closed her eyes during a scary movie, and she wasn’t about to start now. Life was just getting interesting, and Willa didn’t want to miss a thing
.

Acknowledgments

This book would not exist without the incomparable Dan “Dam” Ehrenhaft. He earned honorary Roecker sister status when we had to go back and check if he added one of the best lines in the book. (He totally did.)

If you’re reading this book it’s probably because Meredith Barnes (indirectly) told you to. She’s pretty much the best publicist on the planet and earned her honorary (cooler, younger, smarter, New York-ier) Roecker stripes when she sent to-do lists that made Lisa weep with joy.

To the rest of the team at Soho Press for putting so much time, energy and love into our work: Bronwen Hruska, Janine Agro, Rachel Kowal, Paul Oliver, Rudy Martinez, and Amara Hoshijo.

A huge thanks, as always, to our brilliant literary agent, Catherine Drayton. We’d be lost (and super bored) without her.

And to our husbands/children/parents/in-laws/friends/Romans/countrymen—the only thing more challenging than actually trying to be a writer is being married/related/sired/friends/acquaintances with a writer. You rock. Thank you for everything.