“Those look delicious.” I startle at my mother’s voice from beside me. I turn and meet her questioning blue eyes. She was sitting on the other side of me all through dinner. She could have seen me do it and snatched up Billy’s glass the moment I left the table.

If she did see me do it, she will naturally be wondering now why I’m mad at Billy. And maybe she’ll suspect that I know.

“Uh, yeah,” I stammer. “Do you want mine? You can have it. I just figured out that I’m not hungry anymore.”

“Are you feeling okay?” Her hand touches my cheek. I flinch away.

“I’m fine,” I say. “I’m just . . . worried about Afton. Do you mind if I go back to the room and check on her?”

“Yes, go ahead,” Mom says. She smiles. “You’re a good sister, Ada. I appreciate all that you do. Your pop and I both do.”

“Thanks, Mom,” I mutter, and hurry to get away from her.

Chapter 31

31

“Ada! Wait!” Nick catches up with me as I’m leaving the luau place. “Hi.”

“Hi.” We stand for a while, frozen in the awkwardness of what’s supposed to happen between us Saturday night.

“How are you?” he asks finally. “Did you get to go paddleboarding?”

“No,” I admit. “But thanks for your help with Marjorie.”

“Any time,” he says.

We’re standing on a platform next to a tram stop, which is full of hotel guests waiting to catch a ride. I need to catch a ride myself, back to Ocean Tower and Afton. I need to talk to Afton now. We need to form some kind of game plan.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“Yeah.” I’m still feeling light-headed. “I’m fine.”

“Do you still feel like tea?”

It takes me a second. “Yeah. Of course. Yes. If we can find some condoms, that is. I looked for them myself, today, and you’re right. They aren’t easy to locate.”

“If at first you don’t succeed.” He smiles, but it’s a queasy sort of smile.

“No gas station condoms,” I repeat.

“I know. That’s what you said.” He doesn’t sound super enthusiastic.

“What’s the matter? Are you having second thoughts? That’s okay, if you are. I mean, I’m not, but if you are, that’s okay.”

Nick holds up his hand, indicating that he’d like me to stop babbling so that he can speak. But then his lips press together, like he’s unsure of what he’s about to say.

“I don’t know how to say this,” he says.

“Just say it,” I tell him. He thinks I’m ugly. He’s realized that having sex with me might be a risk, as I outweigh him by fifty pounds and could squash him like a bug. He’s realized that . . .

“Are you evil?” he says.

I scoff. “Say what now?”