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 h.e.l.l?" 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 c.o.c.ktail 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 m.u.f.fled, 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 h.e.l.l 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? G.o.d, 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.

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