“Evie.” Salem looks down at the hand that was just on my knee, and back up at me in horror. “I wasn’t trying to—”

“No!” I blurt. “I mean, I know. Of course I know. You’re … I mean. I did not think that. Jenna! I mean, hi, I know about Jenna. You guys are great. So cute. Well, not cute, because she’s kind of a she-devil, but—”

“Evie.” Salem stands and slowly approaches like he’s trying to soothe a wild animal, and that’s how I feel, caged by this room and the sight of that bed and the fact that I want to pull him down into it and kiss his stupid emo face. He’s standing between me and the door, and I can’t bring myself to go any nearer, to get a closer glimpse of that concern, of those shoulders, of the way his pants are hanging way too low …

The rope ladder! How could I forget? This is the one room at Rumson that comes with its own alternate exit. I run to the window and grab it, trying to toss it over, but it’s heavier than it looks and not nearly as seamless a motion as when I’ve seen Matt do it. Stupid basketball biceps.

“Evie!” he whispers fiercely. “What are you doing? This is crazy.”

This is crazy. Where have I heard that before? Oh, yeah, when I went down to Craig’s basement to find him rolling around with my sister. Apparently, it was “crazy” to lose my temper at that, and “crazy” to throw his stupid video game controller at him. Crazy Evie, always overreacting.

And maybe this time I am, but I am just so tired of screwing things up. The way I hated Craig and Sierra in that moment is the way I hate myself now, for trying so hard to become someone else, and for what? To prove I could be as fun and spontaneous as my sister? To make myself desirable so I can keep falling for the wrong guys?

There will always be girls who are better people than I am, like Heather. And there will always be girls who can beat me, who can have everything they want—everything I want—like Jenna. And there will always be girls like Sierra, who’ll do anything to get their way, and mostly succeed.

But where in there do I fit? The girl who isn’t nice enough or fierce enough or compelling enough or just simply enough—

“Evie! You have to—”

Or smart enough to secure a fucking rope ladder is my last thought before I hit the ground and everything goes black.