With a sigh, she hitched up her jeans, shoved her feet into flip-flops, and went downstairs to check her phone. She’d heard a text message come in while she was getting dressed for the day. She’d slept too late, and it made her feel muzzy-headed. But it was the first day of summer freedom, and kids were supposed to sleep late, weren’t they? Freedom felt more like prison to Julie. She had no friends. She couldn’t go to the beach or take a walk around town, because she didn’t want to run into Vanessa or Jana or their minions, a squad that included pretty much everyone else in her grade.

She found her phone and saw a message from her mom: Meet me at the Surf Shack, 10:30 sharp.

Could be Mom was coming around. Could be she realized swimming and surfing were not the end of the world. Julie jumped on her bike and pedaled as fast as she could to the beach. One of the coolest things about the town was its network of paved hike and bike routes in a roller-coaster-like network along the dunes. When she was younger, and not yet the hated fat kid, Julie and her friends used to ride for hours, ending their adventures at the Surf Shack.

It was the best hangout in Bethany Bay, located at the entrance to the beach. They served cones of curly fries and hot dogs, big icy drinks, coffee, and beer around an open-air bar that had swings in place of barstools. There was an annex with picnic tables, and a surf shop for board rentals and lessons.

When she walked into the annex and saw Mom, Mrs. Marshall, Vanessa, and Drake Larson, Julie realized she’d been played.

“Let’s all have a seat,” said Drake, gesturing at a table.

Vanessa wore skinny jeans and a crop top, her hair freshly shiny, as if she’d just been to the salon. An overabundance of Band-Aids covered her forearm, which she cradled as if it were tender. She had a gift for doing makeup, Julie had to admit. But no amount of cherry lip gloss could sweeten the smirk on her face as she sent Julie a private dagger glare. Julie tried to glare right back, hiding her fear of Vanessa—the master manipulator.

“I guess the reason for this meeting is obvious,” said Mrs. Marshall.

“We didn’t raise you to fight,” Mom said. “You’re better than that.”

“I agree,” said Drake. “You won’t be acting like thugs anymore. We won’t allow fighting, or insults, or harassing each other online. We won’t let you gossip or spread rumors.”

Julie kept her mouth shut and detached herself from the droning conversation. She reflected on the altercation that had happened on surf rescue day. All she’d wanted was to fit in, and Vanessa had ruined everything. She couldn’t say for sure that Vanessa had been the one who had bonked her on the head with a stray board, but Vanessa’s angry face was the last thing she remembered before getting swept into the riptide. Then there was the purse thing, which never would have happened if Jana Jacobs had kept her big mouth shut. And then the Tarek incident . . . okay, maybe Julie could have handled herself better, but when they called her only friend in the world a terrorist, she’d kind of lost it.