With Willa.

She was on her tiptoes, her lips on his ear. James swayed uneasily on his feet, brown liquor sloshing dangerously in his gla.s.s. And then he wrapped his arms around her, wove his fingers through her perfect blonde hair, his mouth crashing down on hers.

Rose wanted to be off that boat more than she'd ever wanted anything in her entire life. She looked out one of the circular windows, to the water sloshing over the gla.s.s. And she debated. If the phone in her hand hadn't vibrated, she would have climbed back up, jumped into the dark water, and swam back to sh.o.r.e.

Harbinger's Port in 10.

But instead Rose took a different leap. She grabbed an abandoned bottle of champagne on her way past the bar and took a long swallow. Staggering through an endless maze of narrow hallways, she ignored the noises that floated out from underneath the doors. Instead she focused on each room's pretentious-sounding name. Mariner's Cove, Caleb's Corner, Lawrence Bay ... By the time she came to the door with a shiny plaque engraved with Harbinger's Port, she had finished off the bottle of champagne. Warmth slowly spread from her stomach out to her fingers and toes. It made her smile, made everything feel right. She abandoned the bottle beside the door and turned the handle.

Rose slipped across the threshold, pressing her backside against the door to click it shut. She needed the darkness if she was going to go through with any of this. It snuffed out everything-inhibitions, fear, reality. Her eyes worked frantically to adjust before she moved forward. But she heard him breathing before she could even make out the outline of his body.

He laughed quietly as she approached.

"I was hoping it'd be you."

He kissed her roughly on the mouth, and she kissed him back even harder. He pressed her down into the bed, and she raised her body to meet him, to feel him.

She told herself it didn't matter who it really was.

She told herself she was ready even as Willa's voice ran on repeat in her mind. "Don't do anything that makes you uncomfortable. Don't do anything that makes you uncomfortable. Don't do anything ..."

She didn't look back. Not even when the light from the large window overlooking the lake caught on his red hair and she recognized Trip Gregory. He was probably pretending she was someone else, but Rose didn't care because she was pretending he was James.

When it was over she couldn't look at him, she just lay on her side, her eyes wide open drinking in the blackness of the room. Even after she heard him get dressed and quietly shut the door, she couldn't force herself to follow. Instead she stared at the ceiling thinking about James and Willa and all that she'd lost that night. She lay there for what felt like hours. She lay there until she heard the sound of the fireworks exploding in the night sky and only then did she force herself to pull her body from the bed. Too humiliated to turn on the lamp, she dressed slowly, finding her clothes as occasional bursts of light illuminated the way. Ironic: everyone else on this boat was celebrating. They knew nothing of Rose's humiliation or how much she had given up to be on the boat that night. They had all turned a blind eye. While some danced, others drowned.

Chapter 9.

It took all of Lina's flinty determination to remain focused on painting her fingernails a deep inky blue. Madge was practically dancing around the attic, spouting off ideas to destroy the Gregorys. Lina wasn't sure what it was about Rose McCaan, but she couldn't quite trust her. Everyone had an agenda, an angle. So what was Rose's? She wasn't friends with Willa. Not the way the rest of them were. Her mother was a Club employee working for the Captain, and her dad was the detective who had let James Gregory walk free. There was no way she would be willing to risk her parents for some girl she barely even knew. There was something she wasn't telling them. Something she was hiding. Lina was sure of it.

"It's perfect. We'll plan something epic, and they'll lose everything. No more country club, no more inheritance. Nothing." Madge's face glowed in the flickering light of the candles. "And after they've lost it all, maybe then the truth will come out. Maybe they'll finally pay."

"But how ..." The words were barely past Rose's lips before Sloane tactlessly interrupted.

"So ... we're going to steal all their money?"

Lina's fingers tensed around the bottle of nail polish. Her eyes snapped to Rose, daring her to react. Just try it. Lina had put a lot of time and effort into training herself to ignore the things in her life that she couldn't control, so she didn't really see much point in this War. After years of doing everything she could to get her parents' attention (including but not limited to: chopping off all of her ridiculously long black hair and dying it white-blonde, getting tattoos that snaked up and down her arms, and carefully creating a reputation for being a total s.l.u.t), she had come to terms with their complete ambivalence about their only daughter's well-being. She learned to forget that she even had parents.

When they'd pulled Willa's body out of the lake, Lina knew just as well as everyone else on that yacht that James Gregory had killed one of her best friends. What she also knew was that talking to the police would result in her exile from the Club. And the Club was all Lina had. So she ignored that, too. And, of course, her lips were sealed for reasons she'd never be able to admit to herself-let alone anyone else.

She understood why Madge wanted revenge. She wanted to punish the Gregorys just as much. But Lina made it a point never to fight losing battles, and there was no doubt in her mind that they were going to fail miserably. She'd handed Madge her money and she'd be there for her friends. There was no way she was going to bail after what happened to Willa, but that didn't mean she had to put up with bulls.h.i.t from this new girl. To make matters worse, Rose clearly didn't know what to make of Sloane.

When they were ten, Lina was the only girl not invited to Carlisle McCord's birthday party. Sloane faked a stomachache, and they'd lounged around Sloane's house slurping homemade chicken noodle soup at Mrs. Liu's insistence. When Lina's parents failed to show before winter holiday at Rennert, her boarding school, the headmistress made arrangements for her to board over break-that is, until Sloane drove all the way up to collect her. It was the best Christmas she could remember, filled with more pie than anyone needed, roaring fires, and presents with Lina hand-written on tags as though she'd been part of the Liu family since birth. Sloane guarded Lina silently. Her rescues were never discussed. They just happened. Protect and be protected. So, yeah, she'd be d.a.m.ned if she was going to let some trashy event planner's daughter mock Sloane. But as Lina opened her mouth to answer Sloane's ridiculous question, Madge beat her to it.

"No one's stealing anything." Even in her frenzied state Madge was careful to be patient with Sloane. "We're just going to show the Captain that his grandsons are a couple of a.s.sholes undeserving of his precious inheritance. And hopefully reveal the fact that James is a cold-blooded murderer at the same time."

"Easier said than done," Lina mumbled under her breath.

Madge must not have heard her. Or she was just ignoring her. Either way she dragged Rose over to a pair of chairs situated near the wall and began whispering plans.

Lina felt a quick stab of jealousy. She had always been the person Madge planned with. The idea girl. But ever since everything with Willa, things had changed. Madge was distant. Distracted. Lina tried not to be hurt. The girl's stepsister had just died, after all. Madge had every right to retreat within herself, to mourn and hide in private. But as Lina watched Madge and Rose beneath her lowered lashes, she wondered if perhaps she was being replaced. There was something about the way Rose kept touching the key around her neck that made Lina want to scream. Why couldn't anyone else see that this girl couldn't be trusted?

"Lina, Lina, ballerina why so quiet?" Sloane plopped down on the couch and knocked the bottle of blue polish over, splattering it across Lina's legs and the hem of her shift dress.

"Jesus!" The word was out of Lina's mouth before she could bite it back. She shot up from the couch and started dabbing at the blue streaks of paint with a discarded beach towel. Lina couldn't have given two s.h.i.ts about the dress. She had dozens more just like it in her closet, but the muddy blue mess at the end of her fingertips burst a delicate bubble of rage inside her. Her nails were always perfect. Well, they were since Willa died, anyway. Lina remembered when she and Willa stayed up all night trying to create the perfect ombre manicure. Willa had found some article online with step-by-step instructions. But they'd kept b.u.mping their nails against the coffee table or accidentally smudging them when reaching into the big white bowl that sat between them for a handful of popcorn. Madge had made fun of them for walking around with salt smudged nails the next day, but they laughed and said it only added to the effect. If Willa were there she would have already convinced Lina that the nail polish splattered across her dress and over the tips of her fingers was a fashion statement.

But Willa was dead.

Tears sprang to Lina's eyes.

"I'm sorry ... I just ... I need some air." She backed out of the room and rushed down the stairway, hurtling into the parlor, not caring if anyone saw-then out the French doors to one of the Club's ma.s.sive patios. She bent over as though she'd be sick.

"Hey, are you okay?"

The voice came from a shadowed stoop in front of one of the side doors. Lina squinted through the darkness but could only make out the red tip of a cigarette and a long pair of legs, crossed at the ankles. But then the girl leaned forward, catching the light, and Lina recognized her wavy hair immediately. Mari. The waitress who was supposedly involved with Trip Gregory. Lina hadn't seen her around the Club since the Fourth. She had heard she'd been fired ... which was fine by her.

"I'm fine," Lina said. "Leave me alone." She turned to go back inside. It wasn't the first time this girl had stumbled upon Lina, and there was no way she was up for a repeat performance of what had happened on the Gregorys' yacht. Not tonight.

"Wait." Mari exhaled a cloud of smoke and dropped the b.u.t.t to the ground, grinding out the ash with her sandal. "We need to talk. About that night ..."

Lina whirled around. "I have nothing to say to you. Go find Trip. Talk to him. You guys seem to have plenty to discuss." Her stony mask was firmly back in place and she noted with satisfaction how each word cut into her target like tiny darts. Mari wasn't worth her time.

Lina pressed her shoulders back as far as she could and turned back toward the entrance of the Club, forcing the bones of her back to jut out like wings as she walked. She was Lina Winthrop. She was tough. She was strong. She took what she wanted and didn't give a s.h.i.t about what anyone said or thought.

"You know where to find me when you're ready to talk," the girl called after her.

Despite herself, Lina turned one more time. But there was no evidence of Mari, save for the cigarette b.u.t.t that still smoldered on the concrete.

Find me. The words echoed in her head.

Suddenly she had the perfect idea for their first battle. For the first time that night a small smile played across Lina's face, and when she climbed the stairs back up to the attic, she felt a surge of adrenaline snake its way through her veins. Lina Winthrop was back in the driver's seat. It would only be a matter of time before she was looking at the crumpled forms of James and Trip Gregory in her rearview mirror.

Chapter 10.

Lina took the stairs two at a time and burst into the attic. "I have an idea," she said, curling her fingers beneath the hem of her stained dress. She tried to catch Sloane's eye, to offer a silent apology, but Sloane deliberately avoided her gaze. Lina knew she deserved it.

"Trip is sleeping with some wh.o.r.e of a waitress. We use her as bait." Lina thought of Mari with her full lips and mocha skin. She was a sure thing.

Madge's eyebrow flicked subtly and Lina knew she'd struck a chord. So she took the opportunity to shift into third and flood the gas. She strode toward one of the chairs in the middle of the room and sat down without saying another word.

"Um, which girl are you talking about exactly?" Rose asked. The words seemed to catch in her throat. She grabbed her bottled water and started chugging.

"Mari." Lina scowled and continued. "Anyway, Trip dialed my number on the yacht. He might not be the hot brother. Not to mention, everyone knows he's completely unstable after he pretty much killed his own parents ... but he knows what he's doing." She smiled wickedly for effect. She was pleased to see Rose's mouth fall open, and her cheeks burst into flame. If there was one thing Lina had perfected it was the art of shock value. She only hoped she'd shock them enough to hide the fact that her being with Trip was a lie. "That waitress walked in and caused the biggest scene. Apparently she actually thought they were dating. Like a Gregory would ever date staff." As soon as Lina uttered the word staff, Rose gasped and began choking. Lina seized the opportunity to see how her little story was going over with Madge and Sloane. Their wide-eyed stupor said it all. She had them exactly where she wanted them. She stared pointedly at Rose, waiting for her to stop hacking away.

"S-s-sorry. Wrong tube," Rose finally managed.

"You don't have to be here, you know. You're free to leave at any time."

Madge lifted her hand in the air to stop Lina from going any further. They'd already had this conversation and clearly Madge wasn't in the mood to have it again. Lina rolled her eyes and continued. "As I was saying, we blackmail her. Force her to confess. Trip goes down and ..."

"I don't see how blackmailing some poor girl will get us anywhere," Madge said. "And what about James? This isn't good enough."

"Pictures," Rose whispered. Her voice was still hoa.r.s.e.

Lina's dark eyes sliced through Rose's.

"No one can deny pictures." Rose lowered her eyes as she said it. "What if we took compromising pictures? Trip with the waitress. James with ... someone else. We show them to everyone. The Captain is forced to disinherit. We win."

Lina didn't like Rose's use of the word "we." In fact, Lina didn't like any of this. Not Rose. Not Rose's taking her idea and making it better. Not being forced out. She picked at the nail polish that had dried around the edges of her ring fingernail until she saw blood.

"The only thing James has been hitting lately is a bottle of whiskey," Lina knew she was contradicting her own plan but she couldn't stop herself.

Rose fidgeted. Her foot shook up and down, and Lina was reminded of courtroom dramas when convicted criminals were put on the stand. What was her deal? Lina considered calling her out, putting her on the spot again, but she knew it would only annoy Madge. But what exactly was Rose hiding? What did she know? Sometimes the way Rose looked at Lina made her wonder if she'd seen Lina on that boat. If she knew what she'd done. The thought of someone else-a stranger-knowing her secret made her skin crawl.

"I can get James?"

At first Lina wasn't sure she'd heard her right, what Rose had just done did not even qualify as speaking. More like opening her mouth and releasing air.

"Speak up. I don't even think you heard you." Lina said even though she knew exactly what Rose had muttered. It was the words that really p.i.s.sed her off, not the volume.

"I can get James." Rose said each word slowly, lifting her eyes at the end, punctuating her statement.

"How?" Madge asked. Sloane held a page of the yearbook in midair waiting patiently for Rose's response. Lina stood by the door, hating herself for waiting, too.

"He texts me. We're friends. I mean ... we were friends."

That was it. Lina pounced.

"So, what you're saying is that you're friends with the guy who killed our best friend. Is that right?" She raked her blue fingers through her hair and shook her head. "You just show up in here claiming to want to help take down a family you know nothing about! To get revenge for a girl who didn't even know you existed." Lina turned toward Madge and Sloane. "Am I the only one who wants to know what she's really doing here?"

"Lina!" Sloane shouted, slamming the yearbook shut. "We all know you miss her. We all do. But you don't have to be such a b.i.t.c.h."

Lina had never heard Sloane curse, let alone at her. And the worst part was that Sloane was right. Lina couldn't even think of anything clever to say. She'd failed in every way possible.

"Enough." Madge stood. Her eyes flickered orange in the candlelight, tiger-like. "None of this is going to work if we can't get along. I'm not asking anyone to be friends. Willa held us together. But she's gone, and this only works if we're a team."

Madge was right. None of this would ever have happened if Willa were alive. Lina brushed her fingers over her first tattoo, a huge snake that wound its way up her left arm. Madge had been horrified when she'd seen it for the first time, had dubbed Lina "white trash." Sloane had stared at her like she had no idea who she was. But Willa had walked right over to her and ran her fingers over the ink.

"Does it hurt?" she'd asked. Looking back, Lina wondered if she'd been asking about the tattoo at all. Willa hadn't waited for an answer; instead she squeezed Lina's hand lightly and announced that if Lina was officially white trash they might as well celebrate with Cheetos and beef jerky. Everyone had laughed, and Madge apologized over a Slim Jim for being such a b.i.t.c.h, and everything had righted itself.

But tonight there was no Willa to diffuse the tension. Tonight there would be no impromptu gas station run. Tonight there was only Lina and her regrets.

"You're right, Sloane," Lina murmured. "I miss her." She stopped short of apologizing to Rose. She wasn't sorry for questioning the girl, and she still couldn't imagine how her friends were able to trust a virtual stranger. Maybe trust was less complicated when you didn't have anything to hide. "I'll try harder," she added. The words sounded gravelly as she pushed them past the burning in her throat.

Madge clapped her hands together. "Excellent. Lina, you take the waitress and Trip. Rose, you do whatever it takes with James. Get pictures. The dirtier the better. We'll project them the night of the gala. Don't let me down."

Meeting adjourned.

Chapter 11.

Lina lingered around the outskirts of the Club the next day, hoping to fly under the radar. She wore her favorite pair of oversized sungla.s.ses in a pathetic attempt to disguise herself. If anything, the huge shades made her closely cropped, white-blonde hair stand out that much more. At least the rest of her outfit was ordinary, boring, and practical. She wore the only pair of shorts she owned and an army green ribbed tank top. But she drew the line at her lips and nails. In Lina's experience, it was impossible not to be in control when wearing Big Apple Red nail polish and Venetian Red lipstick.

Dew-drenched gra.s.s tickled Lina's toes as she wove her way along the path through the woods-laser-focused on making it to the Club's basketball courts before Trip Gregory's weekly game began.

When she found a large tree with a perfect hidden view, she surveyed the branches, tucked her phone into her bra band and began climbing. Her bright red nails looked shiny and out of place against the peeling bark of the tree, her muscles taut as she climbed. Only when Lina settled into the gentle curve of a thick branch did she let the tension ease slowly from between her clenched shoulders. The court was still empty, the green asphalt pristine.

She was here. She was ready. She was in control.

Lina fished out her phone and scrolled through the texts. Rose was driving her crazy with her plan for James Gregory. Apparently she'd figured out a way to get him out of his pants, but she needed Lina to play photographer. She still couldn't get past the fact that Rose and James were a thing. There was no doubt in Lina's mind that their relationship somehow played into Rose's real agenda for joining the War. Her only hope was that seeing Rose and James interact tonight would finally give Lina the proof she needed to get rid of Rose McCaan for good. An image of Willa wrapping a scarf around Rose's waist the night of the party surfaced in Lina's mind, unbidden. Willa had been p.r.o.ne to picking up strays. Jessa Phillips the summer of third grade, Nora Williams in fifth, but it wasn't until the summer of seventh that she'd found Carolina Winthrop.

Metal clanked as the door to the courts swung open and then shut again.

"Game on," she whispered under her breath. She clicked on her camera phone.

The first boy through the gate wasn't Trip. It was actually someone Lina didn't recognize as a club member. A busboy. Rory Something. He walked the length of the court, right beneath Lina. Her pulse quickened. She held her breath. She hoped if she remained frozen, he wouldn't be p.r.i.c.kled by that feeling of another presence, the feeling of being watched. All he'd have to do is look up and she'd be screwed. Rory threw a duffle bag down against the fence, swearing when something spilled out. Small white pills rolled every which way. He jumped to stop them, furtively scooping the stash back into the container just as more players arrived. Interesting. Clearly busboy liked his meds, and liked them secret.

Trip entered the court wearing his trademark c.o.c.ky smile. Other boys followed, doing the handshake-shoulder-b.u.mp that every phys ed teacher must teach males when they separate the s.e.xes and roll condoms onto bananas. Her jaw tightened. It was as if nothing had changed. Of course, for them, nothing really had.

As they started to play, she spotted James Gregory waltzing slowly toward the gate. His eyes were hidden behind aviator sungla.s.ses, and he sat on the bench near the courts. She stared at him looking bored out of his skull while the game around him continued, sweaty and violent. Trip threw elbows, talked trash, and generally kicked a.s.s. She couldn't help but be impressed. No wonder he'd wanted the basketball court relocated closer to the main grounds. After maybe ten minutes, the boys took a water break. Rory spent the majority of his time chatting up a very unengaged looking James until Trip joined the party, slapping both of the boys on the back. She couldn't catch the exact words; she was breathing too heavily and her phone shook in her hands, but a laugh exploded from Trip's chest. The sound rolling over the court and spilling into the woods beyond.

Without warning, he threw the ball across the court in one of those "look at me, I need attention every second of the day" kind of shots. It clanged the rim and bounced toward the fence. Trip jogged to retrieve the ball, but kicked it instead-which was odd. It rolled directly in front of Rory's duffle. Lina held her breath again, watching Trip scoop up the ball while discreetly plucking the bottle of pills from the open zipper and tucking them into the pocket of his mesh shorts. Guess that rules out allergy medicine, Lina thought. She raised her phone to her eyes. If only she had super-zoom so she could actually see what drugs he'd just stolen.

Water bottles were emptied; players swiped the backs of their hands across their mouths and used their shirts to wipe the sweat from their faces. In the meantime, Trip trotted back to James who dug money from his bag to hand to Rory. Unbelievable. The scene below came into crisp focus. Trip hadn't stolen a thing. She'd just witnessed the most discreet drug deal in the history of mankind.

The bark from the branch dug into Lina's bony b.u.t.t and she prayed the boys would finish soon. She was sweating. All at once, her fingers slipped and she lost her grip on the phone. It made a dull thump when it landed, partially concealed by a low shrub. A few boys turned to the sound, stretching their necks to survey the woods, but gave up and turned back to their game. Not Trip. His eyes were narrowed in the direction of Lina's tree. He jogged to the edge of the fence, c.o.c.king his head, not a dozen feet below her. Lina made her lanky body as small as possible along the tree branch. Waiting.