The Thrashers by Julie Soto
For Anna, Amanda, and Fancy Margaret
Prologue
The night I died was supposed to be my prom night.
It was supposed to be a night of satin and lace, limos and hotel rooms, stolen kisses and cherished mistakes. While my classmates laughed and danced and snapped pictures, I climbed into my bathtub in my exquisite pink dress and emptied my mother’s Vicodin bottle down my throat.
I slipped away with the hum of a slow dance in my veins.
Sacramento police ruled it a suicide, but my mother screamed and my father cried—Emily would never. Ask anyone who really knew her.
So they did ask. Teen after teen, prom king and queen, future business leaders of America and future drug dealers of Modesto—Oh, it was absolutely a suicide.
But one phrase slipped into multiple interviews. Two words I whispered against their ears, until they were as quick on their tongues as followers, filters, and finals.
The Thrashers.
Chapter One
JULY
If it were up to Jodi, she’d be in bed at eleven on a Friday night, watching Netflix and pretending the Ben & Jerry’s carton was a single serving, but that was rarely how she got to spend her weekends. Caroline Vallow was having a party. Jodi didn’t even know Caroline Vallow, but if she missed tonight, she’d spend the next six months hearing stories from this party—like how Paige had made out with a foreign exchange student, or how Lucy and Julian had won beer pong with a behind-the-back shot, or how Zack had met his new summer fling.
So, she’d slithered into her tightest jeans, tucked her house key into her bra, and after ten unsuccessful tries calling Zack for a ride, she hopped the bus to this St. Joseph’s High party.
Because if she wasn’t there, she wouldn’t exist.
The bus rattled to a stop, and Jodi jumped out, following the bass beat of bad music to a cul-de-sac of cookie-cutter two-story houses with tidy yards and a Mercedes in each driveway. Jodi had lived on a cul-de-sac when she was a baby, but only knew it from pictures her dad would show her of her mom.
Double-parked cars overflowed from the sidewalks, and boys set off Fourth of July firecrackers while girls watched from lawn chairs, even though July was almost over. Jodi smoothed down her shirt and leaned into the side-view mirror of a parked car to check her reflection. She tucked an auburn curl behind her ear before realizing the car was swaying, the windows fogged with the activity of whatever was going on inside. She jumped back, apologized to no one, and scurried away.
Jodi squeezed into the house, and dozens of eyes turned to the door, expecting to see someone they knew. She tried to smile as they inspected her, knowing this was the price to pay for crashing another high school’s party. But then again, it was highly possible this would be the reaction at her own high school as well.
It wasn’t that she didn’t have any friends. It was that she was sometimes invisible next to them. Jodi’s friends were never overlooked in a room.
“Jodi Dillon! Get over here!” said a bubbly voice. A girl with expertly styled honey-blond hair, Crest-white teeth, and long legs disappearing under a short dress stood in the middle of the living room, surrounded by people dancing to the music.
Paige Montgomery, for instance, was someone who turned heads wherever she went, eyes glued to her until she had fully left a room.
Jodi waved at her a bit sheepishly and pointed toward the kitchen, miming that she was going to find water.
Paige opened her mouth to yell something back at her, but then the music changed and Paige screamed, throwing her hands up in the air.
Laughing, Jodi set off through a sea of red cups. There was karaoke happening in the back of the house—bad karaoke. When the kitchen materialized, she headed straight for a metal tub on the kitchen island in search of water bottles, but a tall dude cut in front of her just as Jodi reached out.
“Sorry,” he said with a grin. “Beer?”
“No, I don’t drink, actually—”
“Were you in Freeman’s algebra with me this year?” He grabbed a Bud Light, knocked the cap off against the granite countertop, and pushed it into her hand. “I’m Matt.”
Her fingers curled around the cold bottle. She opened her mouth to tell him she didn’t even go to his school, but Matt kept talking.
“What colleges are you looking at?” Then, without pausing for a response—“I’m applying to Santa Barbara and San Diego. Love that beach life, am I right?”
“Totally.” Her vowels dripped.
“Matt, get me the Brita,” said a girl appearing behind Jodi. She had on a bikini and nothing else. Her eyes scanned Jodi up and down, and her lips curved downward.
“Sure thing.” Matt jumped to it, taking the pitcher from the fridge and filling a red cup for the girl. “Hey, did you hear Zack Thrasher’s here?” Matt said to them both.
The girl’s eyes snapped to Matt and grew wide. “Really? When I’m breaking out?” She dipped her head to stare at her pores in the toaster’s reflection.
Jodi bit back a grin as she grabbed a red cup and took the Brita from Matt. “Who’s Zack Thrasher?” she asked, feigning curiosity.
The girl gaped at her. “You’re joking, right?”
Jodi turned innocent eyes on her and shook her head. This ought to be good.