This was the only thing illegal my mom ever did. We’d drag the tree back to the house, and the whole time we’d tease her about it. Pat would get quiet and say in a whisper, “Judy! I think I hear sirens!” and then he and I would bust up laughing. But Mom refused, she flat-out refused, to spend money on a tree when the woods were full of them. Never mind that the woods weren’t our property. They belonged to the Preservation Society, bought in an effort to keep parts of Jar Island undeveloped.

My cell buzzes on the coffee table. I reach over and click open a text.

Can we talk? Please? I feel my lip curl up, like I’ve tasted something sour. This is the second time Rennie has reached out to me. First the daisy in my locker, which was so beyond emotionally manipulative I can’t even, and now this. I never responded to the daisy. I’ve looked straight through her when I’ve seen her at school. And I’m definitely not going to write back now. I mean, come on. Why the eff would Rennie think that I’d want to open that door again? It was barely a month ago that she was trying to start shit with me at the Greasy Spoon.

I know why she’s doing it. She’s on the outs with Lillia. She’s probably not even invited to the party tonight. If things were okay between them, she’d never reach out to me. Um, yeah. Thanks but no thanks, you witch.

Another text comes, before I can delete the first.

Pleeeease? Why is she refusing to take the hint? The fact that she keeps trying, even when I’ve blown her off . . . well, it’s making me feel bad, which is total BS. Because I don’t owe her anything. She’s the ass**le. Not me. She needs to get that straight.

I write back. Go f**k yourself.

I figure that’ll be the end of it. But she texts me back again, almost immediately.

One coffee. Java Jone’s in ten minutes? My jaw drops. Girl has serious balls.

There’s no way in HELL I’m meeting you at Java Jone’s!!! My fingers tap the screen so hard I’m afraid I might break my phone.

For all I know she could be planning some grand humiliation of me à la Stephen King’s Carrie, complete with a bucket of pig’s blood that’ll crash down on my head when I walk through the door.

Fine. No coffee. Can I stop by your house? For five minutes? Classic Rennie. She’ll browbeat you until she gets her way. She pulled that shit all the time when we were kids. Once, Rennie wanted permission to go to a midnight screening of a horror movie that was rated R for being extra, extra gory. Paige said no, but Rennie kept asking until the answer changed. Which, of course, it did.

I write back, all caps, DIE BITCH!!!!

Then I cram my cell between couch cushions, because I’m over it. I’m over this damn knot of lights, too. It’s Pat’s fault; he’s the one who chucks them in a bag every year instead of wrapping them up carefully. I dig in the boxes, looking for our tree topper. Instead I end up unwrapping the white porcelain angel from a shell of newspaper. I use the sleeve of my black sweater to dust the windowsill and then set it down. There’s a place inside to put a candle, one of those tea lights that come inside a metal cup, but we’ve never done that. I make a mental note to buy some of those candles. I’m not even sure where we got the angel, if it was ours from before or a gift after, but when I see it, I always think of Judy.

The doorbell rings. Shep slides off the chair and barks his way to the front door.

Oh no. No no no no.

I peek through the curtains and see a white Jeep in my driveway.

Hell no!

The doorbell rings again. And then there’s knocking. Impatient knocking.

I stand a few feet from the front door and shout, “Get off my property, Rennie!” through the wood. I wish Shep was a guard dog that I could sic on her.

“Kat, come on. Please talk to me!”

I press my back against the door. She keeps knocking.

This is ridiculous. Rennie’s somehow found a way to make me look like the idiot. The girl hiding inside, afraid to face down her tormentor. I swear to God . . .

I pull the door open, hard.

“You have sixty seconds. Go.”

Rennie smiles shyly. She’s got on an olive-green sweater, dark jeans, and some fringy suede Sherpa boots that look utterly ridiculous. “Hey,” she says, casual.

I don’t say anything. I stand there and wait for her to start.

Except that Rennie doesn’t do anything but stare at me, like she’s a person with amnesia, trying to remember who I am.

I burst out with “Say what you’ve got to say!” to get this moving along.

She bites her lip and nods. “Kat,” she says, and then pauses to take a big breath. “I’m sorry.” She raises her arms up like she’s offering me something, I don’t know what, and then lets them fall back limply to her sides.

I laugh, I can’t help it, and it makes a cloud in the cold air. “That’s it? That’s what you came here for?”

She lets out a sigh, and it sounds almost annoyed, like I don’t know how hard this is for her. “I know the people I hang out with haven’t made things so easy for you. Lillia, Ashlin . . .”

“Don’t.” I shake my head. I’m shutting this shit down right now. “Don’t you dare blame anyone else for what you’ve done to me the last four years.” I don’t say it; I growl it.

Her eyes flutter, and then she stares at the ground. “I . . . I . . .”

“Oh, come on.” I start pushing the door shut, because this is ridiculous.

Rennie takes a step toward me and uses her foot to block the door from closing. “Wait. Okay. Okay. I wish I could go back to the first day of high school and do everything over. I wish I could take it all back, Kat.”

“Well, you can’t,” I tell her. It’s way too late for that.

“I know I can’t. And that’s what sucks.”

I lean against the door. “You know what sucks? Your timing. I love that this apology is coming now, now when your whole circle of friends is completely f**ked up and you’ve got nobody.” I’m practically screaming.

She blinks a few times.

“Everyone at school knows, Ren. You and your precious little are on the outs.” I don’t know why I say that stuff about Lillia. I’ve made my peace with her; I’ve forgiven her. We’re cool now. But it’s like the anger is still inside me, somewhere, for getting dropped. “You picked her over me, so why would you think I’d give a flying f**k that she’s ditched you now?” I laugh, and it sounds hollow, but I don’t care. “I love it! Karma, baby!” I try closing the door again.

“Wait! Please, Kat. Just listen to me for a second. Lillia’s a duplicitous bitch. It’s almost psycho, how two-faced she is. I just never saw it before now!” Rennie looks so convinced, so sure of herself. In her sick mind, Lillia’s clearly guilty of something.

I stare at her, mouth agape. “Don’t you get it, you little idiot? There’s not an apology in the world that could make up for the shit you’ve done.” I can feel my temperature rising, despite the fact that I’m trying to keep cool. “All the lies you’ve told about me. The teasing, the bullying. I never deserved that. I was your friend. I never did anything to you.”

Rennie starts shaking. She wraps her arms around herself tight, but it doesn’t make it stop. She stares down at her uglyass boots. “Fine. You’re right. You’re totally, totally right. I’m getting everything I deserve.”

I don’t comfort her. Instead I say, “Eh, I’m not so sure about that, Ren. I mean, I hope you do get what you deserve. I hope things get a lot worse for you.”

The words leave a bad taste in my mouth. They are mean, really really mean. Maybe too mean.

I think she’s going to look up and tell me to eff off. But she doesn’t. She looks up, and she’s got tears in her eyes. She takes a step backward, away from me. “Let me say one last thing, Kat. For the rest of my life, I want you to know that I’ll be ashamed for not being there for you when your mom got sick. I don’t want you to go off to Oberlin or wherever, us never see each other again, and you not know that.”

It’s hard to make words come out. My throat is so suddenly tight. “Good. You should be ashamed.” I can feel my chin start to shake.

Rennie sees this, and her tears come fast. “I’m sorry,” she says. And then she’s sobbing. She sits down on the step, leans forward and puts her head in her lap, and bawls.

This kind of shocks me. And then I realize I’m getting everything I’ve always wanted. Not revenge, but an apology. A real one. Except I’m too sad to enjoy it. Things didn’t have to be this way.

I sink down too, one step above her, and watch her shoulders heave up and down. It’s hard not to comfort her. I end up patting her back. Twice. Damn. I’m only human.

Dad and Pat pull up with a Christmas tree tied to the roof of the car. They see us, and Pat’s eyes go wide. I shake my head, so he knows it’s okay. He pulls my dad in through the garage.

Rennie lifts her head. “I want to promise you something. I promise on my heart that I will not do one more mean thing to you, Kat. Ever.” My throat is dry, so I give her the slightest nod of acknowledgment. “And I wanted to invite you to my New Year’s Eve party.”

I’m about to say thanks but no thanks to her invitation, but then it hits me. If I’m at the party, then I’ll get to see shit between Reeve and Lillia go down firsthand. “Can I bring someone?” I ask, thinking of Mary. “If I don’t have anything better to do?”

Rennie laughs at that. “Classic Kat,” she says. “Totally. Whoever you want.” She stands up and stretches. “There’s going to be a bouncer, like at a speakeasy. If you tell him ‘My flask is empty,’ he’ll let you in for free.” Her face breaks into a devious smile. “I’ve even got a special surprise planned for midnight and I want you front and center for the show. Boom boom boom, baby.”

I can’t help but roll my eyes at her, because dude, she’s still so Rennie.

“Listen . . . I do appreciate you coming over,” I say gruffly. “And for saying that stuff to me.”

She smiles. “It’s the least I could do.” She scratches Shep behind the ears and then kisses him on the head. “Bye, Kat.”

“Bye, Ren.”

In a weird way, it doesn’t feel like good-bye. It feels like maybe the smallest bit of a start.

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

As soon as I got home from school I locked up the liquor cabinet and the door to the wine cellar; then I made a sign with my calligraphy pen that said Off Limits and put it on my parents’ bedroom door. I debated putting up a sign on the front door that said Please Take Off Your Shoes, but then decided it would be a bit much. If I see people putting their feet up on the white couches, I will politely ask them not to.

I’m wearing the lacy black corset top that Kat bought for me. I haven’t had the nerve to wear it up until now, but I think that as hostess I’m supposed to look extra special. I’m wearing it with a pleated gray mini and my gold horseshoe pendant. I curled my hair and teased the crown up so it’s bouncy and big. The last touch is pale pink lipstick and a dab of perfume.

I see Reeve’s truck pull up and watch him bound up the walkway with four pizza boxes stacked up. I run over to the front door and fling it open before he can ring the bell.

His jaw drops when he sees me. “Damn, Cho.”

It’s exactly the reaction I was hoping for, but my cheeks still heat up. “Thanks for picking up the pizzas,” I say as he steps inside. He hands me the boxes as he slips off his shoes and lines them up against the wall. He’s wearing white sweat socks with a gray toe, the same brand as my dad. This makes me smile for some reason.

I can feel his eyes on me as I walk him to the kitchen. I set the pizzas down on the counter. “Thanks again,” I say, just to have something to say.

“No sweat.”

“Did you get the kegs?” I ask.

“Yeah, they’re in the back of my truck.”

“I’ll help you bring them in,” I say.

Reeve lets out a laugh. “They’re too heavy for you and me. I’ll get PJ to help when he gets here.” Giving me the once-over, he adds, “Your skirt’s too short for you to help anyway.”

I make a pouty face. “It’s not that short.”

He grins at me. Then he hooks his hands on my h*ps and pulls me toward him, nice and easy. He keeps his eyes on me, watching me carefully, giving me a chance to stop him if I want.

But I don’t. I don’t want. I mean I do. Want.

And then he’s kissing me; his mouth is soft and sure against mine. He really knows how to kiss.

I don’t remember inviting this many people. And I explicitly said no underclassmen, so why do I see junior girls from the squad? This party is so not VIP. And God, being the hostess is probably the least fun thing ever. I’m constantly running around wiping up spills and turning down the music. I haven’t even had one sip of alcohol!

Thank God Reeve is here.

He’s standing at the door, barking at people to take off their shoes. “Morrissey, were you raised in a freaking barn?” he growls. Reeve winks at me when he sees me watching.

I’m doing a lap around the downstairs when I see her. Rennie. I can’t even believe it, but there she is, drinking a beer, sprawled out on my couch with her high-heeled boots on, talking to Ash, who’s perched on the armrest.

I’m not sure what to do. If I try to kick her out, it’ll be such drama, which is exactly what she wants. For us to have a fight in front of all these people. So I do the exact opposite; I grab a bowl of chips from the kitchen and sail over to the couch with a sunny smile. “Hey, guys!” I plop down beside them.