Some of us didn’t believe it—the new girl? And Morgan? The new mom? And Rebecca? What did they all have to talk about with each other? How did they even know each other well enough to form this little alliance? Those who hadn’t seen the video tried to find the proof the following day. But you don’t have to be eleven to know that an Instagram story vanishes exactly twenty-four hours after it’s been posted. Poof: just like that, it was gone. Like it had never happened.

Also. We don’t even know how it got out, the thing about Morgan and the sleeping bag. Gina took it away as soon as she noticed. She had that bag washed and dried before Rebecca picked up Morgan. She never told anyone. Why would she?

Except Tammy, but that was in private. And then Brooke, after Tammy accidentally mentioned it to her, and then one of the girls found out. But we jumped all over Tammy and Brooke and Gina for that. Morgan had lost her dad! Could we please give her a break?

After that things were never quite the same between Rebecca and Gina. There was a certain level of mistrust. Which was too bad: they used to be close.

Looking back at the end of the summer, when everything was over, it was possible to point to that Instagram story from Salisbury Beach and say that that was when the tide started to turn. If you will please excuse our pun.

15.

Rebecca

Rebecca found Alexa in the kitchen, where she was buttering a piece of toast. Bernice was lying directly in front of the sink, as was her wont, so each time Alexa needed to use the sink she had to stand a Bernice-width away and stretch over her. Bernice was a Bernese mountain dog. Peter had named her—he’d been delighted with the play on words.

“Can you follow me to the service station on Bridge Road?” Rebecca asked.

The buttering grew more vigorous and Alexa said, “Now?” Bernice shifted her big fluffy body in the wrong direction, closer to the center of the kitchen.

“Sometime this morning. I’ve got to get that dent repaired—it’s already been over a week.” Rebecca felt suddenly nervous, as though she were asking her daughter out on a date. Alexa sighed prettily and glanced at her phone. “Unless you’re working,” said Rebecca, hurriedly, apologetically. (Why was she apologizing? She paid the car insurance on Alexa’s Jeep.) “I could always ask a friend.” (Could she?)

“No, I’m off today. I have plans later. But, sure, I can drive you.”

“Plans with your friends?” Rebecca couldn’t keep the inquisitiveness out of her voice. “With Caitlin and Destiny?”

“Mom,” said Alexa. She stared at the toast. “Stop. Why all the questions?”