This darkly feminist YA thriller follows new girl Lucia, who falls in with a group of glamorous girls while spending the summer on Nantucket. But her new friends have a dangerous secret--and they’ll do anything to get revenge on the people who have wronged them. Seventeen-year-old Lucia is spending the summer on Nantucket with her mom and her mom’s ridiculously wealthy new boyfriend, Todd. She’s bored and lonely and spends her days working a minimum-wage job serving tourists at a milkshake shop while her mother loses herself in a haze of Chardonnay. Everything changes for Lucia when she meets Selah and her pack of devil-may-care besties--beautiful, chaotic, and a little dangerous--who hop from bonfire beach parties to champagne-soaked soirees at some of the island’s most exclusive hotspots.; But as Lucia becomes a part of their shimmering world, breaking hearts and wreaking havoc on this elite island community, she realizes that her new friends have a shocking secret... and an agenda that is darker and more violent than anything she could have imagined.

Autorentext
Rachel Ekstrom Courage grew up spending summers in Nantucket, wishing that something mysterious and magical would happen to her. A literary agent by day, she lives in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania with her husband (the children’s book author Nick Courage) and their dog, Chaely.

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Coming here was a bad idea… This razor-sharp thriller rippling with secrets, privilege, and intoxicating female friendship is “one part fairy tale and one part New England whodunit, with a twist I never saw coming!” (Katie Cotugno, New York Times bestselling author of Liar’s Beach)

A carefree New England vacation is just what sixteen-year-old Lucia needs to chase her sadness away. At least, according to her mom, who whisks them away for the summer with her ridiculously wealthy new boyfriend. Nothing bad happens in Nantucket, a charming island with cobblestone streets and million-dollar cottages.

But when Lucia stumbles upon the body of a teenage girl on a beach, the discovery reopens old wounds from her past. With the dead girl's identity a mystery, Lucia takes it upon herself to investigate and crosses paths with Selah and her pack of devil-may-care besties. The three girls are beautiful, chaotic, and a little wild—and they help Lucia forget her crushing sense of grief and loneliness. But as Lucia becomes a part of their shimmering world, she begins to suspect that there are dark secrets hidden in this quiet enclave, and that uncovering them may be the key to solving the dead girl’s murder. Not everything on this island is what it seems…

“Perfect for fans of We Were Liars. You won’t want to miss this tense, twisty, gorgeously written read!” —New York Times bestselling author Kass Morgan

Leseprobe
Chapter 1

I stood alone on the front deck of the ferry as it pushed through the fog. Everyone else was inside, including my mom, who had curled up on a window seat after our two-­day drive. It was early June, and we’d left Pittsburgh in time to avoid the heat and humidity that would soon envelop the city. My mom had driven most of the twelve hours herself, only letting me behind the wheel on “easy” highways, and, in the time-­honored tradition of mothers of teen drivers, flinched every time I changed lanes. Never mind that I was careful—­more careful than she was. I didn’t put on eyeliner at red lights, or sip coffee, or change radio stations every five minutes like she did. I was still in that new-­driver mode: hands at three and nine, checking my mirrors methodically and staying exactly five miles per hour under the speed limit.

Not that she noticed.

I pulled my hoodie tighter around my face as the mist thickened into a drizzle. The sea air smelled briny and fresh, so much better than the rental car, which was stale with my mom’s perfume and the countless bags of pepperoni Combos we gobbled between rest stops. The ferry was a big boat—­big enough for cars to park inside it—­so it didn’t rock, but plowed steadily ahead into the grayish fog. In the cozy warm cabin of the boat, kids were munching Cape Cod potato chips and playing on tablets . . . but I pretended this was all there was: the mainland behind me and the island ahead of me. I imagined myself dissolving into the fog, my body becoming diaphanous, until I became one with the dark, damp nothingness.

A cold spray of seawater drenched the bottoms of my jeans, dragging me back to reality and its roaring soundtrack of wind and water. We must have hit a big wave. I peered through the fog, past the rusted metal side of the ship and into the yellow froth churning in its wake. My teeth chattered as the wind buffeted my face, making it feel like November instead of June, but I wanted to stay outside in the freezing wet wind.

I needed some distance from my mom.

For the latter half of my sophomore year, her parenting style had taken a sharp left turn from free-­spirited benign neglect to a much more annoying hands-­on approach, where she asked about my homework every night and no longer endorsed ice cream for dinner. Instead of talking about her string of boyfriends or fixating on her latest art project, she frequently asked about my feelings, my caffeine consumption, if I’d taken my vitamins, did I ever wish I had a dad in the picture since it had always been just us, if I wanted to see her acupuncturist, did I feel like I was spending too much time scrolling TikTok, and on and on. The long road trip had provided ample opportunity for her to grill me about my emotional state, and now—­after hours of relentless prodding—­I felt like a deflated balloon, unable to fill myself up again.

I leaned on the rail, resting my forearms against the cold metal, and gazed up at the waning, almost-­full moon, its edges made milky and indistinct by the fog. My clothes were damp from the spray and the cold was biting, but I still couldn’t make myself walk back to the brightly lit cabin, where I imagined my mom was already primping for our arrival. I could practically hear her insisting that I “freshen up,” too—­and maybe put on a nicer top from my duffel bag. She wanted me to make a good impression on Todd. After all, he was the reason we were headed to Nantucket, a place I’d never been. Most of my classmates went to summer camp in Ohio or drove to closer vacation spots like Ocean City or Deep Creek for long weekends with their families.

Sammi’s family was the exception.

They went to Maine for a month every year, to visit her grandmother and extended family at her cottage, which—­judging from the pictures Sammi posted—­was her family’s way of saying “estate.” Even though she always said I should come, her parents never extended an official invite . . . so Nantucket would be my first time in New England, my first time going anywhere for an entire summer, my first time meeting Todd in person, and my mom’s first time seeing him since their meet-­cute at a coffee shop six months earlier. Todd had been in Pittsburgh for a real estate conference, and when he grabbed her decaf latte by accident, he apologized and asked her out to dinner that night. They went to dinner again the next day, and then he had to fly back to Nantucket. Since then, they’d spoken on the phone every night.

If my mom hadn’t been so laser-­focused on me and my welfare these past few months, I bet she would have flown out to see him or asked him to come visit us. Even though their relationship was long-­distance, it was obvio…