Page 83 of The Initial Insult

“Who had the other part of your mom’s necklace? And”—it feels super rude, but I’m curious—“why did they give it back?”

“I don’t know,” Tress says, shrugging, holding the charm and reading it upside down. “I didn’t ask.”

Chapter 75

Tress

Fifth Grade / The Night Of

“We’re going to wear these forever, right?”

Chapter 76

Felicity

Senior Year

“Felicity? Hon? Do you have your box ready for the PTA rummage sale?”

Shit. No, I don’t. But I need to clean out my closet like nobody’s business. I grab the box Mom left in my room a week ago, open it, and jerk random things off hangers, grabbing shoes from the back of the closet, anything out of season. This rummage sale is going to be a gold mine for somebody.

Gold . . . I probably have some jewelry that can go, too. I crack open the box, laughing when I spot the pair of earrings that Brynn got me last year for Christmas—volleyballs, one that reads Book, the other one Keeper.

“A keeper, all right,” I say, tucking them into a drawer to hold on to.

The smile fades when I spot a ring Patrick got me, an apology for something he did . . . again. It goes into the PTA box, falling among the piles of clothes without a sound. Something’s jammed in the back, the charm pinched in the hinges, a cheap chain curled, greenish, lying on the bottom of my jewelry box like a snake.

I yank it free, my stomach dropping.

Rummage sale, here I come.

“Can she even afford to shop here?” Gretchen asks, glancing up from her phone.

“What?” I ask, shading my eyes. The sun is beating down on the school parking lot, the tables of clothes, toys, shoes, dishes—all the unwanted objects of Amontillado up for sale, the made-up moms of the PTA playing salesgirls.

“Tress Montor,” Gretchen says, pointing. “She’s like . . . here.”

I follow Gretchen’s finger to see Tress hovering over the jewelry table.