The beach house was too noisy. Not just party-noisy… the kind that gets under your skin, makes your brain itch. Ellie’s birthday madness was in full swing—kids shouting over each other, chairs scraping, wrapping paper everywhere. Salty breeze kept sneaking in through the open windows, clinging to her arms. Cake frosting was already smeared on half the kids’ mouths and hands, sticky-sweet, and the fairy lights above made that faint, annoying zzzt sound in the dusk.

Camille stood stiff, like she couldn’t remember how to move. Her heart wasn’t beating right—it was jerky, off, skipping.

Tara’s letter was still there in her head—I’m watching Ellie. I’ll come for her birthday....