“That oughta make a big splash,” Vanessa said. She gave Julie an obvious once-over. “So what did you do in France all summer? Fat camp?”

Julie didn’t flinch. “Nice of you to notice,” she said coolly. “Too bad for you there’s no such thing as asshole camp, because you’re stuck being one for life.”

Behind her, she heard a very soft huff of laughter from Tarek. Vanessa’s face turned bright red. “You think you’re funny? Well, I think you’re—”

“Who’s this?” In all her exotic glory, Maya came back from the changing room. She looked like a goddess in an electric-blue bikini, her glossy hair spilling like a black river down her back. She offered a brilliant smile, and somehow, the smile managed to convey that she knew exactly what the situation was. “Friends of yours?”

“Yes,” Julie said with a straight face. “Maya, that’s Vanessa, Jana—”

“We were just leaving,” Vanessa said, then turned to her squad. “Let’s go for a swim. I’ll race everybody to the outer buoy.”

As they beat a hasty retreat, Julie caught Tarek’s eye. “Some things don’t change, do they?”

“Some things definitely do,” he said. He couldn’t seem to stop looking at her.

As they carried their boards out to the surf, she speculated on his meaning. And then she didn’t think at all as they paddled away from shore, ducking under the incoming waves to get out to the break. It was one of those postcard-perfect afternoons everyone loved. There were families with little kids digging in the sand, running around and squealing. Tourists from everywhere were spread out on the sand under their rented umbrellas. Couples lazed in the shade, napping or slathering each other with sunscreen. As always, the local surfers owned the area beyond the break, seeming oblivious to the swimmers all around them. And then there were the kids like Vanessa and her gang, swimming and horsing around at the beach boundary, causing the lifeguard whistles to go off every few seconds.

Julie watched them for a moment, focusing on the buoy that marked the far boundary. It was the same buoy that had been the marker during drills the day she’d wound up in the ER. She didn’t remember much after Vanessa had “accidentally” rammed her with her board. Julie had gone into the water, and for a moment she’d seen her dad’s face, as clear as if he’d been right there with her. And then . . . nothing. Nothing, until she was gagging up seawater, surrounded by EMTs, anticipating a freak-out from Mom.

In France, Mom hadn’t freaked out at all until that last day. But boy, her meltdown had been epic. And for once, Julie conceded that maybe, just maybe, it had been understandable. Seeing her daughter jumping from the rope swing had probably awakened an old nightmare. Julie had apologized up one side and down the other, but Mom had cut the trip short, and now here they were.

She led the way now with her friends in her wake. It felt good to count Tarek and Maya as friends. The Atlantic water was cool and dark beyond the shelf at the break, so different from the Mediterranean’s bright blue clarity. They made it out and missed a few good waves. Finally, they got into the rhythm of the surf and she caught a pretty good ride. It felt great to be on the board—her dad’s board. She paddled the way he’d taught her, matching the speed of the wave and then getting up in one smooth movement. “Don’t try to outsmart the ocean,” he used to say. “It’s stronger than you, but it’ll always bring you ashore.”