Page 71 of Shark Cove

Malia tried to sort through how much of her own reaction was selfish: wanting Camille to stay so she’d have her friend in her life. “I can see not wanting to go home. But I also think that starting over in California seems like a lot to take on after what just happened.”

Camille’s shoulders sagged. “I think so too. You know what my auntie suggested? A trip for a few months. I’ll get a correspondence course, and we’ll travel all around the world for the rest of the school year. By the time I start school again next fall in Orange County, I’ll be ready to get back to a routine.”

“Wow,” said Malia faintly. “That sounds amazing. I’ve never been farther than the mainland.”

“I told Auntie June I’d do it if I got to take you with us, for the first two weeks, when we go to Paris.”

“Holy crap, really? Paris?” Malia clasped her hands together.

“Yeah. We’re starting in Paris, then taking a cruise around Europe. What do you say to doing that for spring break?”

“I’m packing, is what I say to that,” Malia grinned.

“You saved my life. You deserve it,” Camille said.

“I don’t, not really. I went behind your back with Blake. We kissed.” Malia felt her eyes fill. “I feel so bad about it. I want to die for betraying you.”

“Blake told me all about how he fell for you when he saw how much you cared about finding me. He thinks you’re brave. He went on and on.” Camille’s lip wobbled. “He and I might have been something, a little something, but it wouldn’t have been much. I only liked him because you’d made him such a big deal on the website, and I couldn’t tell you because I knew how you felt about him.”

“I don’t care if you’ve decided it’s okay. It was wrong, and I won’t be seeing him anymore. You’re the one that matters to me.” Malia felt a knifelike pain to the chest at the thought of only seeing Blake from afar, and she’d changed through all of this. She wasn’t sure she could go back to her observation posts and hoodies.

“I’m telling you, I’m over him.” Camille flapped a hand. Malia could see her exhaustion. “Are you going to Paris with me, or not?”

“If my parents say I can, yes. And if I can get a passport in time.”

“Yes, to both. I told your dad, and he called your mom. They think it’s a great idea, and your dad is going to get the passport started with a rush order.”

Excitement bloomed under Malia’s sternum. “Wow, this is amazing!”

“Now. What’s happening with the Wallflower site?”

“My mom is trusting me to retool it. I’m going to use it to help people, maybe be a confidential informant for the Maui Police Department.” Lei had asked Malia if she was interested, and she was.

Camille’s smile was sad. “Too bad it took what happened to me to get you to see that doing good was what Wallflower Diaries should always have been about.”

Malia could only nod in agreement.

Malia still didn’t haveher phone or laptop privileges back, so after she got home, she took the house phone and carried it upstairs, plugging it into a jack in her room. Dad was out doing errands and Mom had taken Kylie to counseling, so Malia was on her own. Being alone in the house felt good, but what she had to do did not.

She steeled herself, and phoned Blake.

“Hey. I was hoping to hear from you. I saw you on the news last night. Impressive.” His voice was neutral, hiding something, but the words were polite.

“I wanted to call you a thousand times, but I didn’t have my phone, didn’t have privacy, and wasn’t ready to tell you what I have to tell you.” Malia pressed her fingers against her eyes.

“It’s about Camille, isn’t it?”

“I can’t do this to her. I can’t do ‘us’ to her.”

“Me neither.” Blake’s immediate agreement made Malia’s heart constrict.

“Oh. That’s good, then.” Malia made herself say the words, but they came out small.

“Yeah. Camille told me she doesn’t care if we go out, and she understands how we got to liking each other—but I can’t spend time with you knowing it might hurt her, not when she’s lost so much.” Blake sounded firm and sad.

Malia’s heart broke with a feeling like the soft cracking of ice cubes melting under hot water. “I couldn’t have said it better myself,” she whispered. “She’s invited me to go to Paris with her and her aunt. Maybe we’ll both be over it when I get back.”

“Yeah, that would give us a good break to think about things.” A heaviness in Blake’s tone conveyed doubt. Awful as it was, Malia’s spirits lifted at this evidence that she mattered to him, that this was as hard for him too. “I’d better go, then,” he said. “I was sitting in our spot, working up the nerve to call you.”

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