I rolled my eyes. If Nathan heard her tossing out curses, he’d probably blame me for that, too. Say it was my influence or something.

Really, though, I wouldn’t have cared. I was just happy she was in a good mood, laughing and joking. I was glad those boys hadn’t taken that Bailey away from me. Especially because at the moment, she was the only person in this family I actually liked.


I got up early the morning of Harrison’s party, hoping to spend a few hours talking with Dad about potential majors. I was fully prepared for an awkward confrontation about the Facebook pictures, and I’d even figured out exactly how I’d respond when he started asking me about the group.

Unfortunately, I never got the chance to use my speech.

I waited around downstairs all afternoon for Dad to get home from work. One o’clock, two o’clock, three o’clock… Around three thirty he called the house from his cell phone.

“Hi, munchkin,” he said. “Could you do me a favor and ask Nathan to meet me at the theater? I’d swing by and pick him up, but it took longer than I expected to pick out fireworks for tonight.”

“The theater?” I repeated. “Nathan? But I thought you and I were going to talk about college and… I don’t know. Hang out.”

“Oh, right,” he said. “I’m sorry—I forgot. We’ll do it soon, I promise.”

There was some muffled noise from his end.

“I’ve got to go, munchkin,” he said. “I’m in line to buy these fireworks. I’ll see you tonight.”

“I’m going to Harrison’s tonight.”

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said. “I love you. Bye.”

I clenched my fist around the cordless phone for a long moment before slamming it back down on the counter. Frustration boiled inside my chest. He’d ditched me for Nathan. For his new son. His new family.

I turned and stormed upstairs, pushing open the door to Nathan’s room without knocking. He was sitting on his bed, reading a book. He looked up when I walked in. To my surprise—and annoyance—he looked happy to see me.

“Hey,” he said. “I’m glad you’re here. I wanted to talk to you about what I said—”

“Dad wants you to meet him at the theater,” I said. “He can’t pick you up because he’s buying fireworks…. You’re going to the movies with him?”

“Um… Yeah, I am. We’re going to see that sci-fi movie—this is the last week it’s showing. Is that okay? Do you want to come with us?”

“No,” I snapped. “No, it’s not okay. He was supposed to hang out with me today. He was supposed to talk to me. About my future, my major, the shit people are saying online. He hasn’t talked to me about any of it, and he was supposed to today. But he’s not. Instead he’s going to the movies with you. And no, Nathan, I don’t fucking want to come with you.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t know. Maybe he forgot.”

“Just like he’s been forgetting to look me in the eye lately. No, he’s just more excited to start fresh with his new, perfect family.”

Nathan had the grace to look genuinely sympathetic, at least. “Is there anything I can do? I could cancel, or I could drive you, and you could go instead.”

I softened a little. It was hard to be angry when he seemed to really care—even if my dad was replacing me with him. “No. I just—I need to check something on your computer.”

“Um, okay. What?”

“Facebook.” I sat down at the desk and brought up the Internet. I heard the springs of Nathan’s bed creak as he set his book aside and walked up behind me.

“You don’t want—”

“Don’t tell me what I want, Nathan.”

He was already signed in to Facebook when I opened the page. Finding the group wasn’t hard. It popped up as soon as I typed my name into the search bar.

I scrolled down, trying to ignore the left panel and the 167 people like this message there. Jesus, were there even 167 people in Hamilton to begin with? There were no new photos up, which made sense, since I hadn’t left the house in the last few days. But posts and comments and speculations about where I’d been had popped up.


Rehab already, maybe?


Wonder if Greg shipped her back to where she came from? I wouldn’t want my fans to see my daughter if she behaved that way.


I pushed their words out of my head and made myself click on the top photo—the one of me and the dreadlocks guy kissing.

“Nathan,” I said. “If someone’s name is tagged in a photo on here one day, but it isn’t now… What does that mean?”

“The person tagged can untag themselves,” he said. “Why?”

“Because,” I said, “Dad was tagged in this photo when you showed me the page, and now he isn’t. Which means he untagged himself. So he saw this picture. He saw it, and he didn’t say anything to me about it. He just… He untagged himself. Like it never happened.”

“Maybe he just—”

“He just doesn’t give a shit.”

I stood up and started for the door, but Nathan caught my arm. “Whit.”

“Whitley.”

“I’m sorry for what I said to you that day.” Nathan’s hand slid from my elbow to my wrist. “It wasn’t okay for me to call you a whore. It’s not okay for anyone to say that. Not the people online, and definitely not me. You told me once that I’m a hypocrite. And you’re right. I am. You should know that I—”

“While I’m sure this is going to be a fascinating story,” I interrupted, “I don’t care. I’m having a major parental crisis that sort of outshines your little tantrum, and frankly it seems like my dad agrees with you. I have a party to get ready for, so can we save it?”

He let go of my arm. “I get it. Yeah. Fine.”

“Great. Thanks.”

I knew this was Dad’s fault, that it was Dad I should be angry with, but I hated Nathan right then, too. Because Dad was spending time with Nathan today instead of with me. Nathan was the child he wanted. He couldn’t even make time in his schedule to talk to me, to care.

Untagged. He’d untagged himself from the photo.

From me.

CHAPTER 17

“I think you’ve had enough, sweetie.”

Harrison tried to take the glass from me, but I jerked away from him, keeping it out of his grip and spilling some of the vodka on my purple top at the same time. I hated vodka, but that’s what Harrison’s sister had bought for us. Whatever. It was better than nothing. Way better than yucky beer.

“Leave me alone,” I said.

“You’re smashed. And not in your usual goofy, funny way. You’re getting obnoxious, and more than a little morose. You should stop now.”

“I’m fine,” I snapped. “It’s the Fourth of July. I can have as much as I want. Mind your own business.”

“God, Whitley, stop being so dramatic,” he called as I walked away from him, crossing his backyard in a beeline for the row of trees.

I wondered if he’d seen the Facebook page.

I took another gulp of the vodka. I was still thinking about the Facebook page, about Dad. I was still thinking, so I wasn’t drunk enough.

My hair was all in my face, and I tried to flip the strands out of my eyes somewhat gracefully. Thank God Harrison lived way out in the country. His house was set almost a mile off the highway, surrounded by thick woods. This was a fabulous thing, since, apparently, he was incredibly popular. There had to be a hundred kids at this party. Every member of the Blond Mafia. Wesley and his stupid, ugly girlfriend. Geeks, jocks, preps. People in high school and on summer break from college. Harrison knew everyone.

I knew that these people had their little cameras ready, ready to catch me doing something skanky or illegal. I’d thought about it as soon as I arrived at the party. And then I thought, Fuck it, because Dad didn’t care, so why should I? Might as well give these people the show they wanted.

But I flinched each time I saw someone on their phone, wondering if they were about to sneak a picture of me.

So I drank more, and waited for the moment when I’d stop caring.

I stumbled over a patch of uneven ground and my drink flew out of my hand, sending shards of glass scattering across the grass and turning the dirt into vodka-flavored mud.

“Shit,” I whined, trying to correct my posture. I got a little assistance when a hand took hold of my elbow and helped me straighten up.

“Steady there.”

“Thanks,” I muttered.

“Not a problem.”

I turned to face my rescuer. He had blond hair, a strong jaw, and really shiny teeth. Maybe it was just the drunk goggles clouding my vision, but at that moment, he looked like perfection in the flesh.

“Hi,” I said, smiling. Behind him, the backyard blurred and tilted.

“Hey,” he said, still holding my elbow. “You’re Whitley, right?”

I grimaced. “How did you know?”

“Harrison told me about you,” he said. “His sister and I go to college together. My name is Theo.”

I was relieved to know that he knew me from Harrison rather than from the Facebook page. For a second, I was worried he was one of the 167 people who’d joined the group.

“Theo,” I said. “That’s an interesting name.”

“So is Whitley.” He grinned, leaning in to whisper in my ear. “But I like it.”

A chill ran up my spine. “Do you?” I murmured.

“It’s sexy.”

I laughed. “Theo… Your name makes me think of Alvin and the Chipmunks.”

He chuckled, pulling back from me and letting go of my arm. “Well,” he said, “I guess I’ll leave you alone. You probably want to hang out with your friends.”

I scoffed. “What friends?”

Theo gestured to the crowds all around us. They were a fog of brightly colored clothes and swaying limbs. No faces. No familiar or distinct voices. Everything blended together. Strange and unreal.