When we pull up to the Lower Banks Bowling Alley—the only cool place to bowl in the whole Cruz Bay Metro area—there are cars parked outside that are worth more than the entire business. Heh. If I hadn’t already known this was coming, I’d know now.

My heart skips a few beats as Dad rushes around to open my door, treating me like a princess. I feel a little like one, in the black party dress I picked out. It’s a high-low dress (shorter in the front than it is in the back) with a sleeveless, beaded bodice, and a little collar that buttons in the back. The best part? I paid forty bucks for it online, and I feel fabulous in it. I don’t need designer dresses or shoes to feel pretty. It might sound cheesy, but I really do believe that energy is inside of all of us.

Biting my lower lip, I pause just outside the door, next to the sign that says Closed for a Private Party, and then I push my way in.

“Surprise!”

The cheer goes up from the small group gathered in the entryway, next to the old claw machine, and the frosted glass windows that partition off the dining area. There’s a lot of enthusiasm in that cheer, even though Creed’s yawning and clapping at the same time, and Tristan’s as subdued as he always is. The others—Miranda, Lizzie, Andrew, Zack, Windsor, and Zayd—make up for it.

“You’re seventeen today!” Miranda shouts, dancing over to me and giving me a squeeze that’s so enthusiastic that my feet come up off the floor. She smells like that Victoria’s Secret body splash that everyone’s so obsessed with. Love Spell, right? I wonder if she has a new girlfriend?

“I’m seventeen,” I repeat, laughing as I push her off and Lizzie steps in for a much softer, but no less tight, hug. Each girl’s hug matches their personality. The thought makes me smile.

“Happy birthday,” Lizzie says, pulling back and catching sight of my dad. Her breath hitches, and her amber eyes get big. “Mr. Reed.” The words come out in a whisper, and it takes me a minute to figure out what’s going on. She’s worried that he knows her part in the bet. He doesn’t. And honestly, at this point, there’s no reason to tell him.

“Lizzie, this is Charlie,” I introduce them as simply as I can, giving her a look that I hope conveys that. They shake hands as I move over to Andrew next. He’s actually wearing a white shirt with a rainbow flag on the front of it. I raise my eyebrows and he grins, reaching up to muss at his chestnut hair.

“I’m not quite as brave as you,” he says, to which I raise my own eyebrow. I’ve never thought of myself as brave. I’m learning self-confidence and self-care, but bravery? I’m not sure I’m there yet. “It’s just, my parents are still in Italy, so …” Andrew trails off, and we hug anyway.

Those are the easy people to greet.

The rest of the group is … complicated.

Well, maybe to me. Windsor hasn’t gotten the memo. He sweeps me off my feet, and I squeal in surprise as he spins me around and sets me back down, curling his fingers through mine and lifting them up, so that we’re palm to palm. My heart is pounding, my pulse racing, as he leans in and kisses both of my cheeks.

My dad is staring at us with a very reserved and confused sort of expression. After I explained to him who Windsor was, he didn’t believe me. He literally bet me twenty bucks that I was full of it. Then he looked the prince up on his phone, shuffle-walked to my bedroom door, and put a small wad of ones and fives on my dresser.

“My daughter goes to school with royalty,” he’d mumbled, and then, “no wonder you didn’t want to leave that school.”

“We’ve all flown in for your birthday, and,” Windsor lifts up a single finger, “since there’s not a proper five star hotel in all of Cruz Bay, we’re staying at the Bayside Bed and Breakfast.” As a grin spreads across my face, Windsor chuckles. “Thought you’d get a kick out of that.”

“You guys know the Bayside Bed and Breakfast is haunted, right?” I ask. “And besides that, their continental breakfast consists of oranges in a bowl, and cold cereal. There’s no valet, no turndown service, and they definitely have not perfected the art of ass kissing.”

“So we discovered yesterday,” Tristan says, gray eyes sliding to one side. His arms are crossed tight over his chest, and even though I’m no psychologist, there’s something about his stance that says guarded, closed-off, unavailable. I wonder if he’s doing it on purpose? “The ceiling in my bathroom drips, and there’s no room service.”

“Grenadine Heights might be an exclusive neighborhood, but overall, Cruz Bay is laid back, and very West Coast casual. Sorry, guys.” I grin as Windsor releases me, and I turn to see Zack, watching us with a brand-new red and black varsity jacket on his shoulders.

“They let you back on the team?” I ask, and he nods, grimacing slightly.

“Honestly, it’s kind of bullshit that they forgave me so easily,” he starts, but then I’m sliding my arms around his trim waist, and he’s enveloping me in a hug that makes me sweat buckets. I feel all swoon-y and weird around him in a way I never have before.

Dad grumbles something under his breath, and disappears into the dining area to order a root beer float. He’s trying to give me some privacy with my friends, which I appreciate, but every now and then his eyes flick our direction.

“Win some for Burberry Prep this year, okay?” I say, because once I took my revenge, and crossed his name off my list, I was done. There’s no point in beating a dead horse, and I trust that Zack’s learned a lesson he’ll never forget. I didn’t take revenge so I could gloat about it, or roll around in the blood of my enemies the way Harper might. And now that it’s over—with these guys anyway—I’m ready to start down the path of forgiveness.

Ask anyone: forgiveness is a much harder path than revenge.

That much I know for sure, because seconds later, the door opens and in walks Jennifer with a cluster of balloons in hand.

My heart turns to ice, plummets into my belly, and shatters into shards.

I feel sick.

“Hi …” Miranda starts, looking totally unsure. But then she glances back at me, sees my face, and she knows: this is my mother. She knows all the stories, too, about the cheating and the rest stop and the sister I’ve never met.

“Marnye,” Jennifer begins, making her way over to us in a party dress almost as fancy and flouncy as my own. “I brought you something.” She weaves her way between my friends without acknowledging them. That is, until she spots Windsor York. “Oh. Oh my god. Your majesty.” She blurts the words, and my face turns beet red. I’m probably hot to the touch, too.

Jennifer turns to me with this look of pure glee on her face, like somehow my being friends with British royalty reflects on her in a positive way. To be honest, I’ve never felt more alien around anyone in my life the way I do around Jennifer. She’s a stranger in the worst kind of way. I mean, she’s my mother, one of the people in this world who are supposed to be closer to me than anyone, and yet, she’s as far away from me as a random woman off the street.

“What are you doing here?” I ask as Dad comes around the edge of the glass wall, and gives her a look of surprise. I can tell by the expression on his face that he didn’t invite her either. He wouldn’t do that to me, not without asking.

“Well, it came up in passing conversation with your father that you might be here today …” Jennifer trails off, her blond hair coiffed on the top of her head like a princess, all braided with glittering silver thread and tiny pearl beads.

“I did not invite you, Jenn,” Charlie says, his face this strange mix of empathy and frustration.

I feel so weird, having this moment with the Idols on one side of me, Zack and Windsor on the other, and my new friends fanned out behind my mother with matching expressions of sympathy.

“I just came to give my baby girl some balloons,” Jennifer says, passing over the bobbing bundle. Her eyes skim past me and come to land on Zayd. Her red painted mouth pops open in surprise. “You’re Billy Kaiser’s son, aren’t you?”

“The one and only,” Zayd says, but he sounds slightly irritated. When I glance back at him, I can see he’s studying my mood. He knows what it’s like to have an absentee parent, too.

“You’ve certainly done well at the academy, all these nice friends,” Jennifer says, sounding a little breathless as her blue eyes take in Tristan and Creed before turning back to me. “Which one’s your boyfriend?”

Forgiveness is a virtue, I tell myself as I stare into my mother’s face. I try to make myself smile, but my lips remain flat. All I can think about is sitting in the rain, crying, watching cars come in and out of the parking lot while I hid beneath the thick limbs of a tree.