“Then let’s make sure they don’t find out.”

“We’re supposed to be studying, remember? Coming to the library for last-period study hall is a privilege that can be taken away if we screw up.”

Vanessa sighed. “Okay, whatever. I don’t know what I’m going to do if I fail algebra.”

“You’re going to be forced to go to summer school, that’s what,” Jana told her.

“It’s going to suck so bad, I can’t even.”

“Then just make sure you don’t fail.”

“How am I going to do that? Mr. Bristow is a total Nazi. He gives out four versions of each test so we can’t copy each other. Oh my God, why am I so dumb in math?”

The most beautiful girls were often the most insecure, thought Camille.

“Doesn’t he give tutorials after school?” Jana asked.

“Yeah, but nobody goes to those. They’re so lame. But I’m going to have to do something. I refuse to give up one single second of summer because of algebra. My mom’s organizing a clambake on the beach to celebrate the end of school.”

Camille’s temper did a slow burn. Vanessa was looking forward to a magical Bethany Bay summer, while all Julie wanted was to escape. She hated the thought that Vanessa had turned everyone against her daughter—and that Camille herself had been oblivious to it.

While dating Drake, she’d gotten to know Vanessa a little bit. The girl could be manipulative. When she wanted something from Drake, she played upon his sympathies, reminding him of her sadness over his divorce. And a divorce was sad, but Camille suspected Vanessa knew when to play the broken-family card.

She pulled her attention away from the girls and focused on the books—The Secret Life of Teenagers. Late Bloomers. Bullying and Beyond. Browsing through the tomes, she realized Julie had been showing classic symptoms of a victim of bullying—falling grades, behavior problems, isolating herself from her usual group of friends.

How could I have missed it? Camille wondered, sinking deeper into guilt with every page she read. There was a lot of information to take in. She narrowed her selections down to four books—plus one on villages of the Var, because her father refused to let go of his idea of spending the summer at his ancestral home.

On the way to the desk, she stopped by the table where Vanessa and Jana were whispering behind propped-up math books. “Hello, Vanessa,” she said in a quiet voice. “Jana.”

“Oh, hey, Camille.” Vanessa sat up straight, eyes narrowed in a challenging stare.

Jana shifted in her chair. “Uh, hi, Mrs. Adams.”

“I wanted to let you know that I’m sorry about what happened with your bag the other day,” Camille said. “I assume Julie gave you a check to cover the cost of a new one.”

“She did.” Jana’s gaze flicked to a new-looking purple handbag on the table.

“It was one of a kind,” Vanessa piped up. “A Tonya Hawkes original.”

Camille kept her expression neutral. “The new one looks really nice, Jana.”

“But it’s not the same,” Vanessa pointed out.

“No, it’s not.” Camille set down her stack of books, pressed her palms on the table, and leaned forward, speaking more quietly than ever. “Julie didn’t want me to say anything to you, because she thinks you’ll make things even worse for her, but I’m sure you would never do such a thing. I want you to know that your campaign against her is going to stop.”

“I don’t know what she told you, but there’s no campaign.” Vanessa’s cheeks turned an angry shade of red.

Right, thought Camille. “Good to know,” she said. “In that case, I don’t have to worry about any backlash against Julie, do I?” Without waiting for an answer, she picked up her books and carried them to the front desk. As she fished out her library card, she realized the volunteer at the desk was Trudy Jacobs.

Could this day get any better?

“Hey, Trudy.”

“Hello, Camille.” Trudy always seemed to look like a mom on a TV show—the outfit, the makeup, the manicure, the hair.

“I just saw Jana, and I let her know Julie and I both feel awful about her bag.”

Trudy swiped her card and handed it back to her. “Jana was really upset about it. She’s not used to being picked on.”

Picked on? Oh, sure. “Julie has apologized,” Camille said. “I’m sure they’ll both feel better once they put this behind them.”

Trudy pursed her lips as she scanned each of Camille’s books. Camille could tell the moment Trudy perused the titles, because her lips pursed even tighter. Don’t you dare say anything, Camille thought.

Trudy didn’t say anything. Library volunteers were trained not to comment on a patron’s selections. But her expression was ice cold as she handed the stack of books to Camille. “Good luck with all that,” she said.

“So what did I do?” Camille asked her mother and sister at their next Monday meeting. They were having their flat whites and lemon scones at an outside table to enjoy the brilliant summer morning. “I did exactly what Julie asked me not to do—I told those girls to back the hell off.”

“Well, of course you did.” Cherisse broke a scone in half. “You’re doing your job as a mother.”

“What if it backfires? What if they’re even meaner to Julie because I stepped in?”

“I’ll kick their asses,” Britt said simply. “Sometimes that’s the only thing a bully understands.”

“I wish it were that simple.” Camille sipped her coffee. She had no appetite for the scones. “The last thing I ever thought about when it came to Julie was that she’d be the victim of bullies. I wish I knew how to help. Why didn’t I notice what was going on until now?”

“Because your kid’s in high school,” Cherisse pointed out. “It’s her job to keep things from you.”

“Really? Did we do that?”

“Oh, let me count the ways.”

“But if a pack of girls was coming after me, I would have told you.”

“Don’t be so sure about that.”

Camille twisted her watch around and around her wrist. “I just want to fix this for her.”

Her mother covered her hand, stopping the nervous gesture. “You might need to step back and let Julie figure things out for herself.”

“That’s not fair. It’s like throwing her to the wolves. God, teen girls can be so awful.”

“And so strong. Look at the three of us. We’ve all weathered storms in our lives.”

“If you asked Julie what she wants to do about this, what would she say?” asked Britt.

That we should all go to France for the summer. The answer popped uninvited into Camille’s head. Ever since her father had brought up the idea, it was all Julie talked about. As for Camille, she vacillated, lying awake at night and asking herself: Should I stay or should I go? Should she accompany her father on a journey to his boyhood home, or cling to the life she had built so carefully for herself?

On the one hand, it was just for the summer. On the other hand, it was half a world away. For someone who never traveled, it might as well be on another planet.

“She’s into this crazy notion Papa has about visiting the village where he grew up,” she told them. “Which I know you’re aware of, since he already talked to you about it.”

“He did,” her mother said. “It’s a wonderful idea.”

“It’s absurd. I’m not dragging him and Julie to France for the summer.”

“If anyone’s being dragged,” Britt said, “it’s you. Also, ‘dragging’ and ‘France’ do not belong in the same sentence.”

Cherisse touched Camille’s hand. “Your father should do whatever he wants.”

Camille felt a sudden burn of tears, and her stomach clenched. She knew exactly what her mother was thinking. “I’m afraid something will happen to him.”

“And if it does, he’ll deal with it,” her mother said. “He’ll have you and Julie to help him.”