Wrecked Read Free

it’ll be fine. Way less risky than playing ‘Never Have I Ever,’” Gen picked up the deck of cards and shuffled them on her lap. “Now, who wants to go first?”
    Lydia Banay shrugged and took a big swig of the cranberry juice and vodka mixture she’d concocted at home and smuggled into her water bottle. “I will. What the hell do I have to lose?” She asked rhetorically, as the rest of the girls murmured sympathetically. Lydia had just gone through a bad breakup with BradCarmichael, the Calhoun Academy All-State soccer star who’d just started at Clemson University two weeks ago. On his first night there, she’d received a text at 2 a.m. that featured a photo of a skinny blonde girl in a halter top, along with a question from Brad: Would you hate me if I told you I’m about to cheat? The next day, he’d begged forgiveness, citing too much alcohol and “too many temptations,” but the damage had been done and Lydia had been devastated. Even tonight, Miranda could see her eyes were red and her face was puffy from crying.
    “Okay, sugar,” Genevieve said, closing her eyes and shuffling the deck. She picked out a card from the deck. The card had a photo of a skeleton on it.
    “Ew!” Gray shrieked.
    “Am I going to die?” Lydia giggled, but her face looked terrified.
    “Maybe it just means Brad’s hooking up with some Skeletor skank,” Darcy said, taking another large sip of her own vodka soda as she absentmindedly tightened her auburn ponytail at the crown of her head. Darcy was the youngest of four sisters, and always seemed slightly bored when discussing boy drama, most likely because she’d heard it all at home.
    Genevieve turned the card over in her fingers. “It doesn’t mean that. It’s symbolic, no? It means a part of you is going to die.”
    “What the hell does that mean?” Lydia asked nervously.
    Genevieve sighed, as if she were a kindergarten teacherexplaining the rules of addition to an exceptionally slow six-year-old. “It’s like, maybe the part of you that loves Brad will die, because you’ll meet someone new,” she said, enunciating each word.
    “Okay . . . ,” Lydia trailed off. “Or maybe it means that if I do find out he’s hooking up with a skeletor skank, I’ll kill him. Do someone else. Get me out of my misery.”
    “Anyone?” Genevieve glanced around the group of girls.
    Miranda shifted in the sand and leaned back against her elbows, trying to pay attention, even though her mind kept wandering. Maybe it was just nerves for the soccer sectionals showcase on the mainland tomorrow. And even though Coach Devlin had told her not to worry, that the Stanford coach had seen enough videos of her that all Miranda had to do was get on the field and have fun, she knew it was only natural to be nervous. But it was more than that. It was a sense that no matter what the cards said, it felt like their destinies were already becoming more and more etched in stone with each passing day. Genevieve would move to New York. Miranda would play soccer at Stanford. Darcy and Lydia would most likely stay in South Carolina and get married to cute Carolina guys. None of these paths were bad exactly, it was just . . .
    “Guys, this is ya’ll’s future. Don’t you care?” Genevieve called down to the guys who were hanging close to the tide-mark. Earlier, they had been hanging out around the fire as well, but obviously, they’d gotten bored with the girls’ sprawlingconversations and had drifted off to do their own thing: Jeremiah Black was playing his guitar; the same four chords of “Free Fallin’” over and over and over again, while Alexa Madden watched adoringly from the edge of the circle. Alan Osten and Fletcher King were tossing a Frisbee back and forth. Occasionally, Alan would overshoot and the Frisbee would land in the water. Fletcher would eagerly run in to get it, reminding Miranda of an eager golden retriever.
    “Miranda!” Genevieve snapped, and Miranda glanced away