“You don’t want to go right back out there, do you?” Marjorie says, tsking. “Why don’t you take a rest and have lunch with me? My treat.”

She’s giving me the there’s-no-way-I’m-letting-you-say-no look again.

I know better than to flat-out refuse. “Um, sure,” I say slowly, fumbling for my phone. “But first I have to check in with my mom.”

Do I intend to call my mother right now? Absolutely not.

I can’t call Afton, either. Boo. And Pop is sleeping.

So there’s only one other person on this entire island that I’m friendly enough with to ask for a favor.

THIS IS AN EMERGENCY, I text to Nick. I NEED YOUR HELP.

What’s up? he texts back immediately.

I need you to call me and pretend to be my mother.

. . .

He’s in that status for a while, like he’s in the process of responding, but no response actually appears. Meanwhile, Marjorie is leading me over to the restaurant nearby (the one where, just a few days ago, I had lunch with Afton and Abby after walking in on Mom) and reading the menu.

“Ooh,” she says. “A Hawaiian bacon BBQ burger.”

My stomach lurches. “That sounds . . . delicious.”

My phone rings. Thank god. It’s Nick, of course.

“That’s my mom—I have to pick up or she’ll worry. Excuse me.” I walk a few steps away, but not too far, because I still want Marjorie to be able to hear me.

Took you long enough, I want to say when I pick up. “Hey, Mom,” I say instead. “You’ll never believe who I bumped into at the lagoon: Marjorie Pearson.”

“I don’t actually have to act like your mom, do I?” Nick whispers. “I’m not on speaker? Nobody can hear me but you, right?”

“That’s right!” I say brightly. “I bumped into Marjorie in the line. We’ve been kayaking together all over the lagoon.”

“Ah, crap,” Nick says.

“I know! Isn’t that nice?”

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I like Marjorie, but that kind of sucks. Why did you want me to—”

“Now she’s so generously offered to buy me lunch.”

“Oh,” Nick says.

“Oh,” I echo. “Oh, okay.” I pretend to listen for a minute and then press the phone to my chest to talk to Marjorie. “I’m so sorry, Marjorie, but my mom wants me to meet her for lunch.” I put the phone to my ear again. “Are you sure, Mom?”

“I’m sure, sweetie,” Nick says in a high-pitched voice. “But seriously, maybe you should just have lunch with Marjorie, don’t you think? I mean, what could it hurt?”