I turned to face Jack.

“Real fucking nice, Grace. Drunk at noon. And some random fucking guy, too. You’re certainly getting better at causing a scene.”

I stared at the ground, swaying in an attempt to keep my balance.

Jack threw the broom at me. “Clean up your own fucking mess.”

Chapter 66

Dear Sunshine,

It’s time.

All those secrets that we promised we’d never tell, it’s time we do.

Love,
G

Chapter 67

The first time I got drunk I was thirteen. I convinced Annabelle to help me steal booze from my mother’s friend’s house. Her fridge was always filled with alcohol, and I figured she wouldn’t miss a few bottles of beer.

I stood in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room, eyeing the adults while they chatted, as Annabelle transported the beers, one at a time, from the fridge into my purse. She gave me a thumbs up, and I interrupted my father mid-sentence: “Anna and I are going to the park,” I announced, grabbing my bag and heading for the front door.

“Okay,” my mother called. “Don’t be too late.”

Annabelle and I walked along the rocky shoreline, over shards of multicoloured beach glass, worn-down pebbles, creature-shaped seaweed formations, and fish bones. I leaned forward, allowing the tips of my fingers to graze the water’s surface. It was frigidly cold and numbed my fingertips, causing them to throb. The ocean was always cold here, even in the summertime, but I didn’t hold it against the water, loving it just as much as if it were hospitable. I splashed Annabelle and she giggled, bending and splashing me back. I licked my salty lips and smiled.

We continued down the road, waving at each passing car before crossing the bridge over the stream, ducking through the gazebo, and arriving at the park.

Hannah ran to greet us, falling into me in a sloppy embrace. She was already drunk. A group of boys were sitting at a yellow picnic table nearby, rolling a joint.

Hannah and I walked arm in arm to the swing set as Annabelle trailed behind. I plopped down on the swing, pulling a beer from my purse and unscrewing the top. “Do you want one?” I held the bottle toward Annabelle.

“Okay.” Surprised, she stepped forward, taking the bottle from my hand. I opened another for myself.

James approached, passing me a lit joint. I took a hit as he began pushing me on the swing. “What are you doing bringing Annabelle around?” he muttered quietly so she wouldn’t overhear. “She’s too young.”

“That’s funny.” I turned back, tossing my hair over my shoulder. “I don’t remember you being declared king of the park.”

“Hey, I’m just looking out for her. Someone’s got to.”

“Fuck you, James.” I leapt from the moving swing and headed for the group of guys. “Come on, Anna,” I called.

It was beginning to get dark; the sun had left its lingering post over the headlands and I was pretty drunk. Not cute-teenage-girl-stumbling-and-giggling drunk, but the drunk of a well-seasoned drinker. It felt right to me, this state of controlled chaos. I could tell Annabelle was feeling it too, but she was less in control.