Page 58 of The Art of Us

“You ever been to a clambake before?”

“Nope.”

“Oh. Well. It’s fun. The clams aren’t exactly ten out of ten. More a two or even a one. But the fire is kinda perfect, especially since it’s still so cold out, and Cooper usually brings a guitar, which is cool because we do sing-alongs, and—”

“Sing-alongs?” Ireland wanted to say so much more about how corny that sounded, but Mara suddenly seemed so completely different, and not in a good way. She appeared nervous for some reason.

“Yeah. He usually plays songs we all know, and we sing, and it’s fun.”

“Okay.” Ireland was not convinced of the “fun” review, but she kept her opinions to herself. Besides, they were in Mara’s world, and Mara had the car keys. Ireland did not want to get left stranded at the beach with the rich delinquent crowd.

Get stranded ... It finally occurred to Ireland why Mara’s nerves were off the charts. She dropped her voice and whispered, “Is he here?”

Mara’s eyes widened into two sad, terrified twin moons. “Don’t say anything. Remember, you promised.”

“Why are we here if he is here?”

“I’m howling out loud, okay?”

“What?”

“Never mind. You wouldn’t get it.” But Ireland did get it. It was her fault they were there. Mara was proving something to herself. Ireland just didn’t know what. This was not what she’d meant when she’d said to howl out loud. What she’d meant was for Mara to talk to the police. File a report. Send Rowan to juvenile detention. She did not mean to go eat scorched clams at a bonfire with her attacker.

“These are my friends,” Mara said. “I’m not giving them up just because he thinks he has first dibs on this space. Emily and Tinsley are here.”

“Ugh! We’re here because of them? Why do you even hang out with them?” Ireland asked Mara. “Those two are like accidentally touching old chewing gum stuck to the bottom of the table. They’re just gross.”

Mara’s eyes turned pleading. “They’re my friends, Ireland. C’mon. Please.”

“They hate me.”

“You’re not here for them. You’re here for me. And I don’t hate you. You’re the best friend I have right now, and I need you to not leave my side tonight. Please?”

Ireland finally nodded her assent that it was fine. But in that moment, she knew she had finally told the number-one biggest lie. It was not fine. None of it was fine. She didnotlike being here with these people. Not one bit.

They approached the group. There were two large, open fire pits, both constructed out of weathered concrete. One of the concrete pits contained actual flames. The other was filled with hot, crackling coals. Someone had placed a large barbecue grate across the concrete sides surrounding the coals and then spread a thick layer of seaweed over the top of the grate. Steam rose from the whole setup, and the fragrant smokiness filled the general area in a way that was surprisingly pleasant, especially considering Ireland’s unsettled mood. “I’m here for Mara,” she told herself.

The thrum of Cooper’s guitar carried over the waves lapping at the shore. There was no wind, and the waves were pretty mild. By the time she and Mara were close enough that Ireland could make out individual faces, she immediately picked out Rowan from the crowd. Ireland wanted to go punch him in the face, but she stayed close to Mara’s side, like she’d promised. In spite of being in front of a small bonfire, it was a cold evening. The mismatched blankets over people’s shoulders somehowmatched the mismatched chairs in a way that felt trendy and stylish—like only rich kids could manage.

People said hi to Mara and to Ireland, too, which was surprising, given how she hadn’t thought most of them knew who she was. Tinsley and Emily finally pulled out of whatever self-absorbed conversation they were in long enough to jump up and rush to Mara so they could hug her.

“How did you get here?” Tinsley asked Ireland.

Mara interjected before Ireland could. “I brought her with me.”

“Aww. Nice. Hobo’s got herself a chauffeur.” Tinsley smirked, her freckles twisting with the facial expression.

“Well, I’m sure you would have offered me a ride, Tinsley,” Ireland said. “But, you know, there’s just not enough room on your broom, so I would have had to pass. Thanks anyway.”

Mara sighed, and Ireland mentally berated herself. She was here for Mara, not to entertain herself by outwitting the hag and the harpy.

Emily gave Ireland a look more scorching than the coals steaming the clams. She clearly didn’t like that Ireland had insulted her friend. She then linked her arm with Mara’s and guided her to the fire where she and Tinsley had been sitting. There was only one open chair next to the two they had vacated.

Unless Mara was going to invite her to sit on her lap, Ireland guessed she’d be stuck sitting on the sand—which would have been okay, except the sand felt even colder than the frigid air.

She had actually started to sit in the sand when Mara stopped her and tapped the empty chair next to her. Tinsley had gone over to sit by a little group that had surrounded Rowan.

Mara must have seen Ireland’s fury over Tinsley’s apparent betrayal. “Don’t worry about it,” Mara said.

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