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The door opens behind me, and Dad appears with my bag, setting it down just inside.

“Monica, Cody,” he says, and his eyes narrow just slightly. He's never liked Cody which used to make me like Cody more. Not so much right now. “I'll be picking you up on Monday, no exceptions. You hear me?” I nod, and Dad leaves, closing the door behind him. We already made arrangements with Monica's parents for me to stay here. They don't mind; their house is like ten thousand square feet.

“So, we were just about to hit up the beach,” Monica says, and I force a smile. Just about to hit up the beach? Like, they weren't waiting for me to get here? I'm sort of confused, and all of this excitement that's been building in me for months is starting to trickle away. “We figured you could get changed, and we'd all go together? There's some swimsuit competition that Heather and Sheila begged me to enter, so … we'll do that, and then get lunch?”

I'm just standing there listening to her talk, and feeling my stomach turn to lead. It's just nerves, Charlotte, I tell myself, shaking it off and forcing a smile. I'm sure they haven't mentioned your birthday because they're waiting for the right moment. I don't want or need presents or anything else from them, just … a simple acknowledgment would be nice.

“I'll go get dressed then,” I say, trying to stay perky as I pick up my bag and head for the upstairs guest wing. Yep, they have a whole wing dedicated to guests in the Peters house. And I've stayed here so many times that I know exactly where my room is.

It hasn't changed much since I left, and I breathe a sigh of relief. At least something is the way I remembered it. Groaning, I sink down on the edge of the bed and put my face in my hands.

Monica seems standoffish while Cody seems … overly interested in me physically. I'm not sure what to make of all that. Dropping my hands to my lap, I force myself to shake it off. Monica threw that surprise party for your sixteenth birthday, remember? And that whole day you sulked because you thought nobody knew or cared.

That's enough motivation for me to get up, switch into my pink and white polka dot bikini, throw a cover up on top, and head back downstairs. When I get there, I find Cody and Monica whispering frantically near the front door.

They both pause when I hit the bottom step, and I find myself forcing back a grin. Yep. She's planning something.

I shake off that odd feeling in my arms and legs, and move over to stand beside them, slipping my shades on and cocking out a hip.

“Let's go win you this swimsuit competition,” I tell her, and Monica grins right back.

On the way to the beach, Cody sits in the front seat which is weird. The whole reason I jumped in the back is because I thought he'd be sitting next to me. With the top down on the convertible, it's too loud to chat, so we just listen to some pop song that Monica sings to, completely and utterly off-key.

Once we've parked and I've done the rounds of hugging a dozen different friends that actually seem more excited to see me than my best friend or boyfriend, we hit up the swimsuit competition, and Monica struts her stuff down the boardwalk.

It's nice to be back by the beach, with the surf rolling in, and the sun shimmering on the water. And it feels good to be dressed in a bikini, and not trying to hide a secret at the same time. Plus, I'm out of reach of those Student Council assholes.

My fingers curl against my chest, and I exhale. I should be on top of the world right now, standing in the California sun with the scent of sea salt, taffy, and fresh corn dogs perfuming the air. But … I feel like a fish out of water. Worse. I feel like a fish who's just been dropped back in a pond she used to know, but can no longer navigate.

Ugh.

I shake my head and force a smile, feigning excitement for Monica's swimsuit win, and then trying my best to relax in the curve of Cody's arm as we all sit around in the boardwalk arcade and eat chili fries and burgers.

Eventually, as we drive back to Monica's place and she lets us into the dark house, I realize that there is no surprise party waiting. Monica and Cody, my closest friends, the people who've known me since we were five years old … have forgotten my birthday.

“Something wrong, cutie?” Cody asks as we pause inside the foyer, and I feel my heart stutter and skip a few beats. This cold feeling takes over me, and I suddenly just wish I were back at Adamson Academy, having maple syrup poured in my hair. That'd be better than this. Anything would be better than this, feeling like an outsider in the one place I thought I belonged.