The Thrashers

by Julie Soto

Zack was Jodi’s best friend. But she was only one of Zack’s many best friends.

Lucy always seemed pretty badass when she had a few drinks in her, but Jodi knew that the real reason she stole guys’ drinks was because she knew they wouldn’t be drugged.

“Zackary Thrasher, you’re under arrest for the harassment and statutory rape of Emily Mills.”

Maybe it wasn’t being lonely she was afraid of. Maybe it was being alone.

She felt … she almost felt like Emily. Like no one wanted her around, but they were tolerating her.

If Emily’s journal was hidden in the bathroom wall … then what did the police have?

Maybe she wasn’t meant to survive this. She couldn’t swim. Maybe she should have died sixteen years ago, and now death had come to collect.

“When I got to the car, your window was only half-down and your seat belt was still on.” She could tell him about Paige’s shoe to her face, or remind him about her inability to swim, but she just swiped a new line at a new window. “Did you give up when the car flooded,” he whispered, “or before it even left the bridge?”

“Maybe she did. But I don’t want you to,” he said. Like it was as simple as that.

His hand dragged down over her painted collarbones, resting between her breasts—where he’d pounded her ribs to get river water out of her lungs. And she wondered what it was they were doing, and if it was wise to let him crack her chest open a second time, just to see if he fit inside.