MAY 15

ALLIX

Anyone who said it was possible to look good after running was wrong.

Staring at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, I grimaced. Between my sweat-slick hair and clammy complexion, I was quite literally a hot mess. Running twice in one day wasn't one of my healthier habits, but I'd resolved to cut myself some slack; in fact, I deserved some slack since I was meeting with Maud later in the evening.

Pushing a stray flyaway out of my eyes, I reread the exchange on my phone.

ALLIX MCGOVERN, 4:40 PM: I won't make any excuses, I'm just sorry. Can we talk later?

MAUD HAMILTON, 4:42 PM: If you talk, I'll listen.

MAUD HAMILTON, 5:45 PM: Can we meet at the north marina at 7?

ALLIX MCGOVERN, 5:46 PM: Sure, see you there.

It had taken me a full twenty minutes of staring at my first drafted text before finally working up the nerve to hit send. I'd then proceeded to stash my phone beneath a pillow and departed for my second run of the day. It was my way of coping with stress. It was my way of avoiding my sick desire to bolt into the bathroom and throw up. It was my way of staying in control.

Meeting my gaze in the mirror, I took three steady breaths. "You're fine," I declared. "You're perfectly fine."

That was a lie, obviously. I was not fine, but maybe one day I would be. I needed to believe that, and so did my friends.

The text I'd received from Syd hadn't caught me off guard. It was a happy coincidence that our respective mothers both taught second grade at the local elementary school, and I'd figured that it was only a matter of time before my chatty mother mentioned that I'd returned to the island.

While Teresa McGovern had no qualms or issues about keeping my health concerns private, there wasn't any harm in telling people that I was home. That was how she viewed it, at least. Therefore, if Mrs. Atwood had received the news, her sunny extroverted son would be looped in. The only measure he'd needed to take before reaching out to me would be to consult Maud.

Syd and Maud were always hanging out. Maybe it was the outcome of being life-long neighbors or the fact that they were platonic soulmates. Personally, I thought it was both. In high school, Dakota regularly joked that he was dating Syd too. Maud would laugh while Syd threatened to whack him on the head with a textbook. It was amusing because it was true; seeing one without the other was a rare and jarring sight.

So, when Syd's text appeared on my phone, I was pretty damn sure that he was in the company of Maud. I practically felt her passive-aggressive energy radiating through cyberspace. She would meet up with me, but she wasn't exactly looking forward to it. And in many ways, neither was I.

I spent the next thirty minutes showering and contemplating my outfit choice because looking half-put together while stressed out was yet another coping mechanism that I relied on these days.  In my experience, people were less likely to pay attention to the scars on my forearms or just how far my collar bones protrude when they complimented my outfit.

When I emerged from the bathroom half-dressed and my hair dripping wet, I expelled a vaguely irritated sigh. I wasn't alone in my bedroom.

"Two runs in one day," Rowena McGovern said instead of a proper greeting. She was leaning against the doorframe, her blue eyes narrowed and arms crossed in front of the NYU seal on a purple crewneck that belonged to me. "Don't you think that's a little obsessive?"

I met my sister's scrutinizing gaze evenly. "You spend five hours at the dance studio every day. I wonder if you call yourself passionate or obsessive?"

"It's a fine line, and I've always walked it well," Rowena retorted, straightening her shoulders. My sister stood at an impressive height of 5'9", and had a disciplined yet graceful air about her acquired from years of ballet. Almost everyone who met the two of us for the first time assumed that she was the older sister despite being a full two years younger.

"Of course, you have," I said as I went to stand in front of the full-length mirror. In the spotless glass, I adjusted the black lace of my bralette, smoothing its edges over the side of my ribcage. Years ago, before I received any professional help, my parents had removed the mirror from my room. 

I caught Rowena rolling her eyes in the reflection.

"Do you have plans tonight?"

I adjusted my belt, pushing the metal pin into the last punch hole and threading the lengthy excess through the loops on my faded Levi jeans. "I'm meeting Maud at the marina."

"It's about time," Rowena remarked. She crossed the room to sit cross-legged on my white duvet and tossed a wave of blonde hair over her shoulder. "You can't avoid people forever."

"I wasn't planning on it," I grumbled, shooting her a reproachful look as I turned around.

One of the many things that I loved about Rowena was that she never treated me like I was broken. She'd stood by my side through my darkest days, and wasn't afraid to call me out on my bullshit. Admittedly, her bluntness sometimes felt like a slap in the face.

"So," Rowena said, drawing out the word as she scrolled through her Instagram feed. "Does this mean you're on Maud's side?"

"I'm not on anyone's side," I stated plainly. Before returning to Friday Island for the summer, I'd decided that my top priority was to steer clear of any and all drama. But unfortunately, there were just too many variables for that to be realistic, and adapting to my environment was the only viable option.

Extending an olive branch to Maud via text had been in my best interest, and keeping up appearances should keep the gossip to a minimum. A perceived rift between us would only attract unwanted attention, and once there was blood in the water, there was no keeping the sharks away.

"Maud drew a line in the sand back in January, and it's still there," Rowena argued, and I barely resisted the urge to roll my eyes. I already detested how petty this conversation was. "You left before your so-called wolf pack tore itself apart, but you're not off the hook. Sydney Atwood can get away with being Switzerland, but are you really going to leave Dakota to fend for himself?"

It didn't take a genius to figure out that Rowena wasn't a fan of Maud Hamilton. I always assumed it was due to an innocent crush she had on Syd, but now I wasn't so sure. If I had to guess now, I would say my little sister was trying to protect me from anyone and anything she perceieved to be a threat to my recovery. Regardless, this was the kind of harmless yet draining drama that threatened to give me a migraine. Getting involved wasn't worth it.

"He's not fending for himself, Rowena," I insisted as I pulled on a navy jumper. I didn't want to shiver like Sphynx cat at the marina. "All of his new Hollywood friends are on the island, and let's not forget about his army of 2 million Instagram followers."

"Fine. What do I know, anyway?" Rowena questioned, her voice clad with sarcasm. She fell back onto the duvet, her blonde hair fanning out around her head like rays of sunlight. The evening light spilling through the windows gave her pale skin an added porcelain glow.

Irritation and guilt simultaneously flared up inside of my chest. I knew that Rowena had a better handle on island drama than me. After all, she was the queen of her own posse and hadn't been MIA for five months. It was thoughtful of her to try to keep me informed, but I wasn't in the mood to psychoanalyze my fractured friend group. Therefore, silence was my best response.

The gentle hum of the ceiling fan occupied the quiet as I continued to prepare to leave. After running a comb through my hair, I applied tinted chapstick and mascara. Unlike Rowena, makeup was never my forte, and I was lucky enough to have clear skin.

The silence continued even as I slid on my Birkenstocks and threw my woven beach bag over my shoulder. I was about to walk out the door, but my conscience held me back.

Swallowing my pride, I sat on my bed beside Rowena. "I don't want to get sucked into any superfical Friday Island drama. I don't need the baggage that comes along with it."

Rowena cracked a smile. "You have enough baggage all on your own."

"Exactly." I cleared my throat and directed my attention to Rowena's Instagram. The Instagram profile of a boy named Bryce Shay occupied the screen. I recognized his face - the sharp jawline and bronze skin. "Is there anything I should know about you and Bryce?"

Rowena blushed. "Bryce is just a friend. He's invited me to Cape Blue's cove on Saturday for a bonfire."

"I'll see you there," I said and smirked when Rowena's eyes widened. "Syd invited me. I think he wants to take another stab at diplomacy."

"Classic. I always forget they played club soccer together." Rowena clicked on Bryce's most recent post. After swiping to the second picture of what was documentation of his high school graduation, she handed me her phone. In the photo, Bryce beamed in his navy gown and cap while Syd, wearing a dark green polo and khakis, stood beside him with an arm slung around his broad shoulders.

"Smile and wave boys," I read the caption, and sent my sister a side-long glance. "Well, he must have half a heart if he likes Madagascar."

Rowena swatted me on the shoulder. "Shut up."

"Never."

*

I was well on my way to the marina with the warm summer breeze tangling through my hair when I decided to focus on my narrative. Taking a semester off from NYU to stay with family in Galway was believable. Not responding to texts from my friends because I needed space - both physically and emotionally - was far less believable, but it was what I had to work with.

My lies already tasted bitter in my mouth, and the sinking sensation in my stomach was enough to induce nausea. I wasn't nervous to see Maud, just painfully guilty. I knew that one day, I'd need to liberate myself from the lies. The baggage would eventually become too heavy, and drowning wasn't appealing. The problem was that my truth was blinding and caught people off guard. When their eyes adjusted, they always saw me in a different light. They saw me through a prism of brokenness.

I tightened my grip on the handlebars of my bike as I approached a curve in the road. Evening light cut through the dense screen of evergreen trees, and I squinted despite wearing a pair of aviator sunglasses that had belonged to my mother when she was in college.

When I arrived at the marina, I locked up my bike and turned my attention to the coastal scenery. The early sunset colored the sky in soft blues and yellows, with the harbor seeming to glow against the backdrop of the mountains. Magnificent sailboats lined the boardwalk that ran down the center of the marina, and their sails beat like distant drums in the breeze.

With each step forward I took, the easier it was for me to breathe; I was as ready as I could be.

I didn't need to check my phone to know where I would find Maud. The marina had always been our go-to rendezvous location because it was home to my family's sailboat. When I reached the far end of the marina, I saw Galway's Treasure with its Irish and American flags and elegant script printed on the hull. Maud sat on the boardwalk with her back to Galway Treasure, her tan legs dangling over the edge.

If Maud heard me coming, she didn't show it and didn't acknowledge me even as I sat beside her. Maud drummed her fingers against the boardwalk, her silver gemstone rings clattering softly. I felt my lips twitch at the sight of the large opal ring on her middle finger. I'd found it at a public market in Seattle last summer and had given it to her for her birthday.

"Would you believe me if I told you that I'm sorry?" I eventually asked, forcing myself to look at Maud. Maybe it would've been easier to talk to her when we weren't directly facing each other, but I was still lying to her face. Not about being sorry, at least.

"I don't know," Maud said, exhaling a harsh breath. Her eyes remained locked on the water, but her gaze seemed soft. "I don't know what to believe."

The breeze picked up, and I fought off a shiver as goosebumps pickled up my legs.

"You don't need to believe me, but I hope you know that you can still trust me," I told her.

"Believing you and trusting you are two different things." Maud finally turned to face me, her brown eyes hardening. "You could've said something, you could've said anything, and that would've been better than five whole months of radio silence."

"I know."

"So why didn't you?"

"Because I couldn't," I insisted with a slight shake of my head. "I'm sorry, but I really couldn't."

Maud didn't say anything right away, and I told myself to focus on the sound of the waves lapping against the thick wooden posts that supported the boardwalk. Seagulls cried out overhead, two dark shadows against the sky. I didn't know how long we sat in silence, but when Maud took my hand, I instantly knew that time and distance were variables that our friendship could overcome.

"One of these days, I hope you feel like you tell me about Ireland and everything else," Maud said, a small smile tugging at her lips.

"We have time," I sighed out, giving her hand a soft squeeze.

And that was how fast it happened.

Our conversation drifted elsewhere, though I was well aware that this wasn't water under the bridge. Forgiveness was never easy, but I knew what people said about birds of a feather. Maud and I had spent most of our lives as close friends. Even though we'd grown up and grown apart in some ways, those shared years kept us together.

"So, what else do you know about Apex?" Maud questioned after I divulged the details of my brief encounter with Dakota on the ferry. Her casual tone was impressive, but it didn't fool me. I sensed her underlying trepidation. After all, wasn't it my job as her friend to detect a bluff?

"Nothing really," I shrugged, recalling Dakota's commitment to secrecy. "Only that it's about the orcas."

"How original," she answered, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "That's essentially a replication of his first film."

I hummed in response. My mind was pulling me in a thousand different directions when I was talking to Dakota. It hadn't occurred to me that the premise of Apex was strikingly similar to the short film that earned him his fame. He'd called that first documentary film about orcas Regina - Latin for queen. Part of Dakota's inspiration for the title came from the species' Latin name, Orcinus orca, with Orcinus translating to 'of the kingdom of the dead'.

"I always knew it would end like this," Maud confessed, her voice scarcely above a whisper as she gently swung her legs back and forth. "Dakota was always meant to be someone great, and all I had to do was give him the push."

The gears inside my mind started to turn as a conversation I had over a year ago with Dakota resurfaced with striking clarity. 

"I didn't ask for Maud to do this," Dakota said, igniting a tiny flame at the end of a cigarette with a lighter he rarely used. "I begged her not to."

I stood next to him beneath the awning of Cape Blue's lighthouse, not saying a single word. He'd asked me not to, asked me to just listen because he thought no one else would. At least that was what he'd told me that day.

"God," he continued. "God, Allix, why would she just go and do it and not say a single word to me?"

The memory nearly knocked the oxygen out of my lungs. If I hadn't been sitting already, I probably would've toppled into the harbor.

Drama would truly be the death of me.

"The film," I said slowly, hating that I'd never put two and two together before this moment. I was always locked inside my head and dueling myself with a double-edged sword that the obvious sometimes evaded me. "You submitted Dakota's film."

Even as the shadows cast by Galway's Treasure swept across Maud's face, the flecks of gold in her brown eyes seemed to glint like embers. "He refused to do it himself."

"Dakota wanted to give you credit. I remember you helped him with filming, and-"

"But it's not my film," Maud interrupted. She stood up and brushed the invisible lint off of her tan Carhartt jacket. "So are you coming to Cape Blue on Saturday? Syd is planning the bonfire with Bryce Shay."

Seeing the determination burning in Maud's eyes, I knew I had no choice but to seal my fate. "Count me in."