“I bet this is your first time breaking.” I wipe her tears away. “I used to break all the time. Under a bridge. Next to a bunch of homeless people. I used to scream at the river and punch concrete walls after Via disappeared.”

She wanted something real and inconvenient, so she is getting it.

“I couldn’t talk for days afterward. I once punched my own face to see if I could cry. The answer is no, by the way. And when my mom died? I went to the snake pit hoping Vaughn would kill me. I let him fuck me up just so I could feel something. Because, you see, I’m the tin man. I have no heart. Not since Via left. She was my entire world. Adriana and Harper, I take care of them, but it’s not the same. My heart was rusty before she left, but after? After, it was gone. Is that real enough for you, Daria Followhill?”

She sniffs and gazes up at me. Her blue eyes are so spectacular, they look like two bowls full of diamonds. Skull Eyes’ lips are trembling around the words she is still too proud to say. Her whole face is shiny with tears and snot. I press a soft kiss to the tip of her runny nose. She immediately sniffs. Like I give a fuck about a little snot.

“You’re Saturn,” she whispers. “Made of iron-nickel and surrounded by protective rings of ice and rock.”

“How do you know that?” I smile, and I know the smile is warm. I know it’s fucking up something in her chest, and even though I shouldn’t, I like it. After all these years, I still want to ruin her. Then put her back together. Then do it again and again and a-fucking-gain.

“Bailey knows stuff about stuff. Sometimes I pick it up at the dinner table. Why were you home late today?” she asks.

Because I knew you’d be here.

“I saw Adriana,” I lie.

I hug her tighter because she is squirming again, desperate to run away, and I can’t let her.

And when she breaks within my arms, I glue her back, tuck her in bed, and kiss her forehead, not letting go until she is sound asleep.

He wants to let her go

But can’t seem to set her free

Because if she does end up returning

She’ll see who he fell in love with and flee

Lying on the giant flamingo float in our Roman-shaped swimming pool, I stare up at the sun through my sunglasses. The sun is a lot like hate—beautiful and lethal and essential for our survival. It can blind you, but it also keeps you going. Hate motivates much more than love. Love is content and peaceful. Happy people aren’t driven. They simply…exist. Now, us, hateful people, we’re something else. Hungry and desperate.

Hateful people make the best lovers.

The soft whoosh of the water underneath me tricks me into relaxing my muscles and giving in to nirvana. I blink at the tall palm trees, cloudless sky, and landscape of Todos Santos, and wonder how someone with so much can feel so little.

I feel like a piece of the jigsaw, the one forgotten under the carpet that no one bothers to look for.

“Lovebug? Sweetie?” The double glass door slides open, and Mel walks out in one of her turquoise beach dresses and a giant straw hat. We’re the same size.

Melody was smaller than me when she was my age. A true ballerina, her ribs stuck out, and you could see every fine muscle in her back. Every time she huffs and puffs in front of the mirror, complaining about not being a size zero anymore, she averts her eyes to me quickly and apologizes. “Not that size four is not small.”

No, Mother. It’s just not perfect. By your standards, anyway.

I ignore her, still floating and staring at the sky.

She takes a seat on one of the 2k-apiece yellow and red Moroccan lounge chairs and sips from her skinny margarita. “We need to talk, Dar.”

We actually don’t. We haven’t in years, and you didn’t seem to mind.

“Are you going to ignore me forever?”

Not forever. Just until I can articulate to her how she is hurting me. By putting Bailey first. Dad first. Penn first. But telling her all those things conveys vulnerability, and the only thing I have going for me is that my mother thinks I’m strong. Penn is right. The minute you admit something, it becomes real.

“I have something to tell you, and I don’t want you to get upset.”

“Then why would you tell me in the first place?”

I stretch my arms and leisurely row my way to the edge of the pool with long strokes. I slide under the float and take the stairs leading to the deck, grab a towel, dry off, and slip on a skirt and cute tank top.

“You keep doing things that upset me, like hiding trips to New York and homeschooling plans for Bailey and adopting Penn.” I shake off my long, wet hair. “But it’s not preventing you from doing them anyway. Tell me, Mother, how many more secrets are you planning to keep from me?”

She slides her sunglasses down, and our eyes meet. Her greens sparkle with unshed tears.

“One,” she whispers. “One more. How many secrets are you keeping from me, Daria?”

I think about Via’s letter. About Prichard. About Penn. I shake my head. “I need to go.”

“Daria…”

I pick up my phone and storm into the house, then grab my car keys and dart to the front door. She is on my heels, begging me to stop. But all I can think about is her and Bailey planning trips to New York and sitting together every day—all day—at home while I go to school, or college, or anywhere else that’s out of their hair.

Penn is descending the stairs. Why is he always here when he doesn’t have practice? Why doesn’t he spend time with his daughter? He stops on the landing, his wide chest blocking my way. It rattles with his soft, taunting laughter that usually sends hungry chills to my bones. He is wearing a black hoodie with a white skeleton hand giving you the middle finger—the hole is somewhere beneath it—and torn black skinny jeans that hang too low on his ass. Unlaced sneakers. Rumpled locks. Pure perfection.

“Where to, Hurricane Daria?”

Tears glittering in my eyes, I push him off and duck sideways, slipping through the door. I jump into my car and start it. What is Mel planning now? Moving with Bailey to London? Sending me to an out-of-state college to get rid of me? Sell me to the mafia? I wouldn’t put anything past her at this point. Before I know what’s happening, Penn jumps into the passenger seat beside me. I slap the dashboard. “Fuck! Leave me alone.”

Mel stumbles out the front door, scrambling. I don’t understand why. She’s been doing her best to stick it to me for months now.

“Hysteria doesn’t suit you, Skull Eyes. Where are we going?”

“I don’t know.”

“My favorite destination.”

“Why are you doing this?” I moan, pain slicing my voice so it’s all cracked. Mel gets to the car, rounds it, and slaps my window with her open palms. I realize it’s too late to kick Penn out.

“Daria!”

I kick the BMW into drive and watch her disappear in the side mirror. I’m driving past manicured neighborhoods and downtown Todos Santos. Rolling onto the highway and bolting between golden dunes. I drive until there is nowhere else to drive to. Belle and Sebastian are on the radio, asking me if I’m feeling sinister. I pretend Penn is not here, and he helps by not talking.

A white and blue gas station sign twinkles in the distance of yellow nothing. Neither of us acknowledges that it’s my birthday today. That I didn’t get a cake, or a card, or a hug. That my family thought they could skip this day just because they agreed to let me have a party in a few weeks. Every time my mother calls and the Bluetooth starts playing the Jaws sound effect—her personal ringtone, complete with a picture of her flashing a toothy smile—Penn sends it to voicemail.