Maya sits up and reaches for the long sweater beside her towel. I watch her thread her arms through the sleeves. I feel bitter, and more than a little annoyed. At her. At myself. At the universe.

I sigh and finally leave the safety of my haven. Enough of this. I haven’t inherited some magical power for restoring balance to the universe. For punishing the wicked and the unworthy.

Time to move on.

Jude and Ari are on our shared blankets. Ari is playing something on her guitar and a handful of people have even stopped to listen, a few of them dropping into the sand in a little half circle around her. But Jude is looking off toward the waves, his posture sullen. I don’t have to see his face to know he’s brooding. He must have heard Maya after all.

It makes me angry all over again.

I start to move toward them, when I hear a gasp. A horrible, startled sound.

“No! No, no, no. You can’t be serious.”

I slowly turn around. Maya is on her hands and knees, frantically digging around in the sand.

“What?” says Katie, backing away as Maya flips up the edge of her towel. “What is it?”

“My earring,” says Maya. “I’ve lost an earring! Stop staring and help me look!”

Her friends still look a little baffled, but they don’t argue. All three of them are soon rooting through the sand. Every now and then Maya pauses to feel her ear, then pat down her sweater and check her hair. It soon becomes obvious that her search is in vain.

A smile stretches across my lips, and I think I understand something.

Instant karma.

Maybe it has to be instant. An immediate retribution for a wrongdoing. Nothing happened to Quint because our fight was hours ago.

But Maya was being mean now.

Her expression is pained, even bordering on tears, by the time she gives up searching, but I don’t feel the tiniest bit sorry. Her earring might have been fancy and expensive. I can see its match dangling from her other ear. It’s a drop earring, with a single stone in the center of its design that I think might be a diamond. Maybe they belong to her mom, who will be so mad that one was lost. Or maybe it was some piece of memorabilia to commemorate one of Maya’s many achievements—“Student of the Week” or “I gave blood!” or something. It doesn’t matter to me. She hurt my brother, and she deserves to pay the price.

Pivoting on my heels, I start to head back to my friends. There’s a new bounce in my step. My fingers are tingling, as if this unexpected cosmic power is swirling in my veins.

I’m so distracted that I almost don’t notice the volleyball soaring toward me. Instinct takes over and I duck, screaming.

A figure emerges in my periphery, smacking the ball and sending it back toward the net.

I look up, blinking, my arms still held protectively over my head.

Quint’s lips are pinched, his eyes dancing. It’s clear he’s doing all he can to not laugh at me. “What did you think it was, a shark?”

I drop my arms to my sides. I attempt to reclaim my dignity the best way I know how—with palpable disdain. “I was distracted,” I say, glaring at him. “It startled me.”

He lets a small chuckle escape. “We need another player. Don’t suppose you’d be interested?”

I guffaw. If there’s a sport I’m naturally gifted at, I have yet to figure out what it is. Definitely nothing they make us play in gym class. “Not even a tiny bit. But thanks for … that.”

“Rescuing you?” he says, loud enough that anyone nearby might hear. He looks almost gleeful. “Could you say that again, but louder this time?” He leans toward me, cupping a hand around his ear.

My glare deepens.

“Go on,” he prods. “I believe the exact words you’re looking for are, Thank you for saving my life, Quint. You’re the best!”

I scoff. Then an idea strikes me and I grin, taking a step toward him. He must see something troubling in my face, because he immediately takes a step back. His look of amusement changes to mistrust.

“I’ll say thanks after you agree to redo that biology project with me.”

He groans.

Behind him, a junior girls yells, “Quint, come on! You’re still playing, right?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, waving a dismissive hand toward her. I glance over at the girl. She’s watching me, her mouth puckered to one side.

Don’t worry, I want to tell her. He’s all yours.

Quint starts to walk backward toward the net. He lifts a finger, pointing directly at me. “The answer is still no,” he says. “But I appreciate your persistence.” He turns and jogs back to the game.

I exhale sharply. It was worth a shot.

“Yo, Prudence,” calls a voice.

It takes me a second to realize it’s Ezra Kent, who’s standing on the other side of the volleyball net, waiting for the game to resume. Once he has my attention, he tips his chin at something behind me. “Who’s the hot girl with the guitar?”

Blinking, I look around. For a second I’ve forgotten what I’m doing, where I was going. Then I see Ari sitting cross-legged on our blanket, the guitar settled on her lap, but she’s not playing. She’s talking to some people from school—one girl I know is in jazz band and a couple seniors I’ve never spoken to. Jude is there, too, but he’s sitting slightly apart from the group, still sulking. His bare feet are buried into the sand.

I spin back around and glare warningly at Ezra. “Someone who’s out of your league.”

He exaggeratedly rubs his hands together. “I like a challenge.”

I flash a saccharine smile. “And she likes integrity, so don’t waste your time.”

He cackles. “Aw, man. I am going to miss you this summer.”

“That makes one of us,” I mutter, rolling my eyes. I’m about to walk away when a thought hits me.

I hesitate, turning back just as Quint is getting ready to serve.

“Hey, Quint?”

He pauses and glances at me. I walk closer so I can keep my voice down and one of his enormous eyebrows shoots upward, as if my mere presence were cause for suspicion. “You know, Jude is halfway decent at volleyball. If you’re still wanting another player?”

This might be a lie. But it might not be. My brother and I haven’t had gym class together since sixth grade, so I honestly have no idea how good he is at volleyball.

Quint glances past me, spying my brother. “Yeah, cool. Hey, Jude! You in for a game?”

I walk away, doing my best to look casual so Jude won’t know I instigated this invitation. But it works. A couple seconds later, Jude is jogging across the beach. He nods at me, maybe realizing that this is the first time we’ve seen each other since we got here.

“Doing all right, Sis?” he asks as he passes by. I know the undercurrent of the question. The true meaning. I didn’t want to come to this party in the first place. He basically dragged me and Ari along.

But I think of the wave that crashed over Jackson and Maya’s panicky voice as she looked for her missing earring and the small crowd of people who have stopped to listen to Ari and her guitar, and suddenly I’m smiling. A real smile. A ridiculous, delighted, absolutely over-the-moon grin.

“Honestly? I’m having a great time.” I tilt my head toward the volleyball game. “Gonna play?”

“Yeah, I’ll give it a try. Try not to make a fool of myself.”

“You’ve got this.” I give him an encouraging punch in the shoulder and we go our separate ways.

The sand beneath my steps has turned to clouds as I stroll back toward Ari, feeling like all the power in the universe is at my fingertips.

ELEVEN

I wake up early the next morning, the smell of woodsmoke clinging to my hair, proof that the bonfire party was real. That I didn’t dream it all up. There’s a logical voice in my brain still insisting that this whole karmic justice thing is only wishful thinking, but I do my best to shush that voice.

I lie in bed thinking of all the times I’ve been frustrated at the unfairness of life. At the students who slack off and still somehow manage to earn the teacher’s approval. The bullies who never seem to get caught. The jerks who rise to the top of the social ladder.

Well, not anymore. At least not in Fortuna Beach.

There’s a new judge in town.

I’m giddy as I get up and move through my usual routine of making my bed, brushing my teeth, getting dressed. The day feels full of potential. My life feels full of potential.

I check the clock: 6:55 a.m. on the first full day of summer vacation. I’m dressed and ready, lipstick and everything, and still, the rest of the house continues to sleep. I know I should be exhausted, since Jude and I didn’t come home until after midnight, but I’m wide-awake.

I sit on the edge of my bed and drum my fingers against my knees. I usually love this time of day, when I’m the only one in my family awake. The serenity and solitude feel like a rare gift to be cherished. Whenever possible during the school year, I try to get up so I can get some things accomplished without being pestered by my parents or sisters, but now I feel like I’m in limbo.

No homework. No projects. Nothing to do.

I glance over at my bookshelf, thinking maybe I’ll read for a while, but I know I won’t be able to focus.

My eyes land on the stack of folders and notebooks I emptied from my backpack the night before, all sitting neatly at the corner of my desk.

Quint’s binder sits at the very top, that forlorn seal peering up from the cover.

I pick it up. That hateful sticky note greets me and I make a face. I don’t want to open it. A huge part of me wants to tear this report into tiny pieces and toss it out the window, but that would be littering, so I don’t. Nevertheless, I’m confronted with something almost like fear as I carry the report back to my bed and settle into my pillows.

Fear of what, though? That I might have been wrong all this time? That Quint, in a shocking twist to all, might actually have done good work? That the words in these pages will be well-written, thoroughly researched, and altogether brilliant? That maybe I was the weak link in our partnership?