One Small Thing: the gripping new page-turner essential for summer reading 2018!

“I’m doing homework,” I answer in a curt voice.

“Lizzie.”

“Beth.”

She sighs. “Beth.”

I pretend to be focused on the screen. Mom can’t see it so she has no idea I’m just staring at a screensaver picture of me, Scarlett and Macy at the lake last summer. But Mom’s not going away, either. I can make out her slender frame from the corner of my eye.

She stands there, silently, patiently, until finally I release a loud groan and say, “Fine. Talk.”

Mom steps into the room and sits on my desk chair. I close the computer and wait for her to speak.

She begins with “Your father and I are concerned—”

I can’t stop a snort. “What else is new?”

“Beth,” she chides.

“Sorry.”

“We’re concerned that the boy might harass or upset you at school.”

My gaze flies to hers. “Why would he harass me?”

“Because you’re a reminder of what he’s done to our family, to this town. People don’t like to be reminded of their mistakes. Sometimes they lash out as a result.” Her lips thin out. “I don’t want that boy anywhere near you, Lizz—Beth.”

Despite my anger, I soften slightly, because I appreciate the effort she’s making to call me Beth. She’s trying. More than Dad is willing to try.

“Your father and I will try to have him removed from your school, but I can’t promise that we’ll be successful.”

I arch a brow. She’s acting as if I’m the one who requested they do that. Which I didn’t. “I’m not asking you to do anything. I don’t care if he goes to school with me.”

“Just the sight of him made you sick to your stomach today!” Mom is visibly stricken. “He’s a threat to your mental health and your well-being, and I promise you we’ll do what we can. But on the off chance that we fail, we need you to promise that you’ll stay away from that boy.”

Hysterical laughter burns my throat. Too fucking late, Mom.

“We won’t let him hurt you or our family ever again,” she says, and the ferocity of her tone startles me. “I won’t let him. He already took one daughter from me, and...” Her voice catches, and she takes a long, deep breath.

The pain in her eyes chips away at more of my resolve. We used to be so close. When I was growing up, she’d take me on an outing once a month, just me and her. I think it was her way of showing me she loved me as much as Rachel, even though deep down I knew Rachel was her favorite. Rachel was Dad’s favorite, too. I guess the firstborn daughter always is. But I didn’t care about being their favorite. At least when Rachel was alive, I had parents who loved me.

I miss that.

“He won’t hurt me, Mom.”

She doesn’t seem to hear me. “What you said yesterday. About...about this being a prison.” She lifts her gaze to mine. There’s so much anguish there. “This house isn’t a prison, Beth. It’s a safe haven. It’s the only place where you’re truly safe. Where nothing can hurt you.”

I stare at her. Really? I am hurt in this house. They’re suffocating me with their fears. They took away my door, my privacy.

She’s delusional if she believes I feel safe here.

About as delusional as me thinking I can pretend I didn’t sleep with the boy who killed my sister.

8 (#u407069dc-801a-58d4-a7c7-745d946eaa95)

The next morning, I find Scarlett and Jeff waiting by my locker. Scarlett immediately throws her arms around me and whines, “It sucks that you don’t have a phone.”

“I know,” I say glumly.

“Your dad said he took it away because you snuck out to a party?” Jeff prompts.

I narrow my eyes at him. I don’t remember that coming up at all during dinner last night. “When did he tell you that?”

“This morning. I stopped by the hardware store to say hello before school.”

The revelation bugs me a little, but I can’t explain why. Jeff was over at our house all the time when he was with Rachel. He practically lived there. But it’s been ages since anyone has seen him, and Rachel is gone, so this insta-closeness with my family is weird to me.

“Where was this party?” Jeff keeps pushing for details. “Was it just you and Scar?”

“I didn’t go,” Scarlett, the traitor, tells him. “Beth went on her own. With a bunch of kids from Lexington Heights.”

I scowl at her and she shrugs as if to say I didn’t know it was a big secret.

“Lexington kids?” Jeff says with visible disapproval. “All those Lex kids are total trash, Lizzie. Everyone knows that.”

“Not all of them,” I say in the defense of Ashleigh and Harley and the rest of the kids who were nothing but nice to me on Saturday. “I had a good time.”

“Yeah? Doing what?” he says suspiciously. “I’ve heard about the kinds of drugs that float around at those Lex parties.”

“I don’t do drugs,” I say stiffly.

“I should hope not.”

The judgment in Jeff’s eyes grates on me. Who is he to judge? He doesn’t even know me anymore. The last time he saw me, I had a mouth full of braces and a face covered with zits. I don’t think I’d even kissed a guy at that point.

“Anyway, it was fun,” I tell Jeff and Scarlett. I slam my locker shut and shift my backpack onto my shoulder. “I have to go. I want to talk to my Calc teacher before the bell rings. I’m already a day behind because I missed class yesterday.”

I leave before they can respond, waving a hurried goodbye over my shoulder. Truth is, I do want to get to AP Calc early. But not to talk to the teacher.

My heart is racing as I lurk outside the classroom door. Kids stream past me up and down the hallway. Some duck into the classroom I’m waiting by, others dart through the other open doorways in the corridor.

Where is he?

Impatience has me tapping my foot and playing with the straps of my backpack. I search the hall for him, scanning every boy that comes near. I dismiss the ones with dark hair, the gangly ginger-haired one, the one with the dreadlocks and his buddy with the shaved head. I wait in the hall, even after the bell rings, even after the classroom door closes.

And finally, my patience pays off.

Charlie Donnelly appears at the end of the hall. He’s wearing black cargo pants and a black T-shirt, and a harried look on his face. He rakes a hand through his dirty-blond hair as he rushes down the tiled floor. He’s clearly pissed at himself for being late.