“Nobody said anything about Tarek,” Vanessa fired back. “You’re making that up, too.”

“Who’s Tarek?” asked Mom.

“Whoa.” Drake held up a hand. “We’re going to quit with the I-said-you-said and move on.”

Julie was certain she was the only one who caught the smug gleam in Vanessa’s eye.

Mrs. Marshall cleared her throat. “All right. Rather than rehashing everything, let’s choose a path for moving forward. Let’s talk about this summer. Vanessa, weren’t you saying you’re going to be a volunteer at the Boys and Girls Club?”

“Yes, ma’am. I love working with kids.”

Please, God, Julie thought. Do not make me work with Vanessa this summer.

“And Julie?” Mrs. Marshall turned to her.

“I’m going away for the whole summer,” Julie said quickly, before her mom could speak up. “To France, with my mom and grandfather.” She didn’t look at her mother, but could feel the burn of the mom-glare.

“Oh, that’s just great,” Vanessa bit out. “She attacked me, and now she gets a trip to France as a reward?”

Now it was Julie’s turn to telegraph a smug look across the table.

Mom made a huffy sound. “That’s not—”

“That sounds splendid.” Mrs. Marshall clasped her hands together. “I was just going to suggest that the girls need some time and space apart. Let’s pledge right here and now that you’re going to make this the best summer ever. And come September, we don’t expect you to be friends, but to treat each other with respect—from a distance, if need be . . .”

Julie tuned out the blah-blah-blah lecture. She just wanted the meeting to be over. And finally, mercifully, it was.

Julie knew her mom was majorly ticked off at her for bringing up France, but she wasn’t sorry she’d spoken up. “See you at home,” she said brightly, and jumped on her bike before anyone could stop her. When she came up over the rise of the dunes, she saw her mom’s car parked at the house. Great. Let the lectures begin.

Then she spotted her mother walking to the rack of mailboxes at the end of the road. She might not ever admit it, but she really hated disappointing her mom. Sometimes when she watched her, walking all alone the way she was now, Julie was swept by sadness. She knew her mom was lonely, that she wanted to have a husband and a family like everybody else. But nothing good ever happened with the guys she dated.

There had been a glimmer of new hope when Mom had met that guy—Finn. He’d lit something up in her, something Julie had never seen before. But then Finn went away, and Mom was alone again. It made Julie feel rotten, because Mom was awesome. She was really pretty, and it wasn’t just Julie who thought that. Lots of people said so.

Sometimes they said it to her with surprise—“Your mom is such a beautiful woman”—and underneath the surprise was the part they were too polite to say. “Your mom is so beautiful—but what happened to you?”

Braces, she thought. Glasses. They might be cute on other girls, but not on Julie. On her, they just looked even more dorky. Mom said she could switch to a nighttime-only retainer this summer, and get contacts, too. Julie couldn’t wait.

When Mom came back with the mail, she looked furious. She held a stack of envelopes, and brandished a big thick one covered in official stamps and seals that said U.S. State Department. She dropped it on the kitchen counter.

“What the hell is this?”

“Oh, good,” said Billy Church, lounging on the patio at Henry’s house. “You got your passport renewed.”

Camille was still steaming about that. “I didn’t get anything,” she retorted, glaring at her best friend, her father, and her daughter. “You did this behind my back.”

Julie kicked at the ground, keeping her eyes averted.

“Guilty as charged,” said Papa with his trademark Gallic shrug.

“You did this without my permission. It’s criminal. You sent in my paperwork and my picture without my knowledge. You forged my signature.”

“Because you wouldn’t have signed it, and time is of the essence,” Papa said easily.

“You’re getting way too good at forging my signature,” Camille said to Julie. “First the surf rescue permission slip and now this. You are so grounded.”

“I’m already grounded from everything,” Julie said.

“Well, now you’re even more grounded.”

“Drink your wine, Camille,” Papa intervened. “There is no harm in getting a passport.”

“Without my knowledge? You crossed a line. This is my life, and Julie’s my child.”

“It’s done,” Billy said. “Now you have a fresh passport, and the world didn’t come to an end.”

“That’s not the point.”

“What is the point, Mom?” Julie asked, finally looking up. “Papi wants to go to France. I want to go. Mrs. Marshall even said we should go. The only thing stopping us is you.”

“I have my reasons.” She pushed her glass of wine away. Her father had made a nice dinner for them, but she wasn’t hungry.

“None of those reasons make sense,” Julie said. “Mom. Please. Don’t make me spend the whole summer here. I hate this town. I hate everything about it.”

“You do not. Bethany Bay is our home. It’s where we belong.”

Her father made his French sound—pah—and put his arm around Julie, planting a kiss on her head. The two of them went to the garden together, talking with the intimate familiarity they’d always shared.

“It’s just for the summer,” Billy said. “And for your dad. You said he’s looking to settle some things over there. Doesn’t he deserve to make peace with the past?”

“Of course, but why does that have to entail uprooting ourselves for the whole summer?”

“Because it’s going to be awesome. Think how good it’ll be for Julie to see the world. And to regroup. You know, after the bullying thing.”

“What am I teaching her by taking her away at the first sign of trouble? Isn’t that letting the bullies win?”

“If you were sending her to chore camp in the Badlands—maybe. But France. That’s a win for Julie, not the mean girls.” Billy took both her hands in his. “Listen. I know you, Camille, and I know the one thing more powerful than anything else in your life is Julie’s well-being. Imagine how shitty it would be for her to stick around here this summer.”

“I want her to love it here,” Camille said, gazing out the window. “The way we did.”

“Then take her away for a while. She’ll come back with a new appreciation of where she’s from.”

Observing her father and daughter together, Camille felt herself running out of excuses. Papa seemed so fragile, yet so determined to make this journey. Her own neurotic fear of moving out of her comfort zone was starting to affect Julie. Intellectually, she knew they were right. Julie deserved to have the kind of childhood Camille had enjoyed, exploring and traveling and not being held back by a mother who had been irreparably damaged by tragedy.

Maybe Billy was right—a radical change was called for. Maybe the way to save her daughter would be to let her spread her wings and explore.

Twelve

Stewardess: I’m being shanghaied.

Imakepesto: You say that like it’s a bad thing. What’s up?

Camille stared at her computer screen. She and Finn had fallen into a pattern of chatting online and e-mailing regularly. Daily, in fact. And although she was embarrassed even to think it, their digital conversations were the best part of her day. What did that say about her, that the most compelling relationship in her life right now was with a guy thousands of miles away?

Stewardess: My father and daughter are determined that we’re going to spend the summer in Bellerive.

Imakepesto: Trust me, there are worse places to spend the summer than the Var. I can’t wait for you to see it. You’re gonna love it. Why do you feel shanghaied?

Stewardess: Because I’m being forced to go somewhere against my will. I’m not big on travel anymore.