I move to the balcony door and slide it open. “Hi, Mom,” I say so cheerfully that that in itself is suspicious, but I can’t help it. “So you’re back for the day?”

“I am back for the day,” she confirms. “The group is invited to a luau tonight, though.”

I know this. I read the schedule. “That sounds great. Um, Abby and I would love to go, but Afton’s feeling a little under the weather.”

Mom’s eyebrows lift. “Sick?”

“Yes. So we better let her sit out the luau.”

Afton comes in from outside. Her eyes are stony in a way I’ve never seen, like chunks of bluish flint. My heart rate picks up.

Dear God, please don’t let my sister murder my mother in broad daylight.

“Oh, you do look flushed,” Mom says. “Maybe you have what Ada had.”

“Yeah,” I agree. “What I had.”

Chapter 30

30

At the luau I find out one key thing about myself: I’m a lightweight when it comes to booze.

I know this because I accidentally (or maybe not so accidentally) pick up my mom’s mai tai instead of my fruity nonalcoholic drink from the table, and chug it down. Thinking it will help me relax and get through this meal in one piece.

A mistake, it turns out.

I think the alcohol hits me so hard because I’m stressed out over what’s just transpired with Afton and worried about what will happen next. Or because I’ve been running around in the sun for half the day without drinking enough water, and I haven’t eaten since breakfast. Or because the mai tai is heavy on the rum, which lands right on my empty stomach.

Whatever the reason, less than ten minutes after I partake of the forbidden mai tai, my brain goes fuzzy, and the world starts to spin.

The worst thing is, Mom is seated next to Billy, who is next to his wife. I try not to stare at them, but I have to look that way to see the stage.

“Are we going to eat a pig?” Abby asks.

“I think so,” I answer, on account of the bunch of shiny-chested men wearing loincloths made of leaves who walk by carrying an entire roasted pig. The smell of pork hits me hot and heavy, and my stomach suddenly feels like it’s filled with rocks.

Mom leans close to Billy and says something in his ear.

He laughs.

She smiles, a white flash of her teeth.

I know something with absolute certainty then: I’m going to be sick.

I lurch out of my chair and toward the restroom. I make it to the entrance to the ladies’ room before I hunch forward and throw up violently into the trash can next to the door.

This has not been my best trip, vomit-wise.