Today's Reading
ALDER ISLE HIGH SCHOOL
CLASS OF 2007 YEARBOOK
Hey Ern—
I can't believe we made it.
And I can't wait for everything that comes next.
Graduation.
Getting the hell out of here.
Culinary school.
World travel.
I promise not to forget about you when I'm cooking fancy pasta in Italy or whatever.
But you have to promise to come visit.
I'm still low-key mad you convinced me to come to prom. I've never eaten a chicken breast that dry in my life. We looked good, though.
Seriously. Thanks for all the memories. Running track together. Lobstering with your dad. Scooping ice cream with mine (someday you will understand that Grape-Nuts is not a good flavor...). Eating Combos until we feel sick. Dumb games of Truth or Dare.
Being there for each other.
Ernie, you rock.
Last chance to come with me. Alder Isle doesn't need you, but I SURE DO!!!!
—Effie
Effie Olsen, you are my best friend, and you always will be. I know you have to leave, but I wish you wanted to stay.
I'm so proud of you for winning States this year. Those Italian pasta nerds had better be prepared for the best hurdler they've ever met.
Heck, I'm proud of you for everything. For setting a big goal and going for it.
If you ever decide to come back to Alder Isle, I'll find a way to get you the kitchen of your dreams. Including that ridiculously expensive stove from the French company I cannot pronounce.
I'll only buy pizza Combos for the rest of my life.
(Okay I probably would still buy pretzel and cheese in secret.) I'll take you out on the water whenever you want.
We'll have more adventures than you knew existed on this little ol' island. I'll be there for you, night and day.
Damn it, Eff. Don't forget about me.
—Ern
CHAPTER ONE
SIXTEEN YEARS LATER
Effie Olsen knew it was just after sunup before she opened her eyes. She'd spent the first seventeen years of her life on Alder Isle, and even though she'd been gone for another sixteen, she could still tell time by how the island sun felt on her skin. If Effie had to guess, she'd put it at just before 5:00. The late May morning light was bright and insistent, overly cheery in the most obnoxious way.
Four fifty-nine a.m. was too early for optimism, but try telling Maine that. Or more specifically, try telling that to an island off the midcoast of Maine with a full-time population of fifteen hundred. An island that was once quiet and uncool, but was now ballooning with tourists for much of the year—tourists who'd booked their reservations months in advance for one of the country's best new restaurants. Effie had woken up on an island that was eight miles long and seven miles wide. An island that was hard to get to and damn near impossible to leave. An island that ignored the fact Maine was supposed to have foggy, gray mornings.
Effie rolled over and groaned. Her head was pounding, and her mouth felt dry. Eyes still shut to the world, she reached for her phone on the nightstand, except...Hmmm. The nightstand wasn't there. Her hand fell to the side of the bed and touched exposed mattress. There was no fitted sheet, and Effie recoiled at the realization. Ew. A jersey knit sheet was crumpled down by her feet.
Shitballs.
...
