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can actually be a very strict monitor if I see a bully.) Ah, the joys of summer employment.
    Likewise, Miles’s boss, Donny, insists that Miles arrive at nine A.M. , as well—even though no sane person would buy fried clams before noon. Well, except for Donny. Consider that Donny accidentally named his clam shack “Sonny’s” instead of “Donny’s.” In his defense, the S key and the D key are right next to each other on the computer keyboard. (Although the signs are all hand-painted.) But anybody could make that mistake. And Sonny’s has a nicer ring to it, too.
    All this is a long way of saying that for the past two summers, Miles and I have had about three hours every morning with nothing to do. We pick that same strategic spot on the railing—the very first spot that Miles chose back in the day—where we can both monitor the clam shack and the Jupiter Bounce, “just in case”…and we BS. We rag on tourists (“Where did Sean Edwards get that cheesy seashell necklace? And why is he even back this summer?”) and, of course, we rag on each other (“Miles, that knapsack is grotesque. Is it camouflage ?”).
    But inevitably, the ragging turns from lighthearted to sour…like curdled milk.
    Maybe this time, our secret fed into the fight. I don’t know.
    It started stupidly and innocently enough, as all our fights do.
    Miles asked, “So Turquoise is cool with the whole pact party?” That was what we’d started calling it.
    “I don’t know. I swear; I’ve seen her only four times since she’s been home. She stays up all night studying and is asleep when I’m gone in the morning. We don’t eat together, ever. She’s mostly like this disembodied voice, shouting from behind some closed door. ‘Jade, turn the TV down!’ ‘Jade, do the dishes for once. I’ll empty!’ ‘Jade, you left the screen door open!’ Great to have Turkey home again.”
    Miles laughed.
    “What?”
    He drummed his fingers on the boardwalk railing, Megan-style, watching the passersby. He shook his head. “Nothing,” he said.
    “You know I hate the word nothing . If you ever use it again, I’ll take back—” I cut myself off. I was about to say: I’ll take back that skateboard.
    In the past three weeks, his limp had all but disappeared. He’d actually tried the board out a couple of times up and down the boardwalk…nothing fancy, just getting his balance back. His first try, I nearly cried. (I ran to the bathroom,stammering that he’d undercooked the day’s batch of fried clams.) He kept it in his knapsack most of the time, though, except to look at it.
    “You’ll take back what?” he asked.
    “Every nice thing I’ve ever said about you,” I replied.
    “Name one nice thing you’ve said about me,” he joked.
    “Ha! Didn’t I say you had nice hair once? You have nice hair. You’re the only natural blond in Seashell Point. That’s something.”
    “Not the only one. Lily-Ann Roth.”
    I rolled my eyes. “Why are we talking about some snooty tourist we don’t even know? I thought we were talking about my sister. You were going to say something about her.” I snatched my sunglasses out of my bag and put them on. Note to self: Use the Jupiter Bounce earnings to invest in a pricier pair of shades than the $15.99 special at Clement’s. Shades that will rival Lily-Ann Roth’s. “Talk Turkey, Miles.”
    He drew in a deep breath. “All I was going to say was…maybe she wants to be invited to the pact party.”
    I stared at him through the dark lenses. “I’m sorry?”
    Miles shrugged. “I just thought it might be, I dunno, rude or some crap to have this rager right in the house while she’s upstairs. I just don’t know if you always think things through, Jade—”
    Fury rose in me. You mean the way you should have thought before you kissed me ?
    “Forget it,” I snapped. “Turquoise doesn’t do parties. Ifanything, she’d want to police it and chaperone. She was forty years old when she was born, and