“I’m not having a temper tantrum!” I try to keep my voice even.

“Oh yeah?” he says. “You look like Ursula the sea witch, flopping around onshore.” He mimics me flailing again.

“Oh, fuck off,” I snap. Nevaeh and Katherine are marching over.

He snorts at me. “Seriously? Get a sense of humor, Addie.”

“I don’t want you to talk to me, and you keep talking to me.”

“I can talk to you if I want.”

“But I don’t want you to!” I’m angry, which makes me near tears, which makes it even worse.

“Aw, just calm down,” he says, slipping his heavy arm around my shoulders. “I’m a nice guy.”

“She said go away,” Katherine says, pushing him off me. Nevaeh grabs his hand as I duck away. She’s clamped on to his wrist.

“You,” she says. “Holy shit, it’s you. Look at this.” She yanks his arm again, thrusting it toward us. We’re near one of the tall light posts that illuminate the path, and I see it immediately—a big blood blister under his thumbnail, black and blue and yellow and gross, and familiar. He yanks his hand back, saying something, but I can’t hear it over this revelation.

“You’ve been sending dick pics,” I say, and I laugh. “What is wrong with you?”

“Prove it,” he says.

Nevaeh’s already got her camera out, and she’s got a picture of him, his hand, his face, which changes when he realizes what she’s doing. He grabs at the phone and Nevaeh dances back, stumbling a little in the snow. He grabs her wrist with one hand, shaking her arm, and Nevaeh is yanking back, snarling something. I’m trying to grab his coat, I’m yelling something, I don’t know what.

And then Katherine tackles him into the snow, howling.

With a mighty heave, he pushes her off, and Nevaeh catches her around the waist, pulls her up and away. Katherine is angry-crying, red-cheeked, and Nevaeh is whispering urgently into her ear, trying to guide her away. Christopher is back on his feet, and he’s laughing, his jeans wet from the snow.

“That’s right, run, you fucking—”

And then Taylor tackles him.