1
You know what they say: A good friend will help you move. A best friend will help you move a body.
They don’t mention how awkward the annual girls’ trip will be afterward.
The Uber leaves me within spitting distance of the beach. A thin path winds down the stretch of sand to a dock that tongues out into the ocean, a boat moored snugly alongside. I spot a familiar, tall figure loading suitcases into the boat—Jazz. And there’s Lexie, barely as tall as Jazz’s collar bone but with twice the energy. No sign of Piper yet, but it’s her family’s house we’re staying in, Piper who put this together, Piper who called me just two days ago—
Please. It would mean so much. I just want it to be like it used to be, before—
The midday sun flashes off the water, and the salt-pricked breeze barely budges the thick humidity. For the past year I’ve been nestled next to the ocean, better known for its bitterness. The warmth here, the emerald curl of the waves—they should feel welcoming, but the thickness in the air is too much like that night.
Twelve months, almost to the day, and I can still smell the brackish water and the reek of bleach.