Goodbye Earl

by Leesa Cross-Smith

Genres: Friendship; Small Town & Rural; Southern

Synopsis

Four women take fate into their own hands in this big-hearted story of friendship, resilience, and revenge on monstrous men, from the award-winning author of Half-Blown Rose. 

Taking inspiration from the infamous, empowering song, Goodbye Earl follows four best friends through two unforgettable summers, fifteen years apart.
 
In 2004, Rosemarie, Ada, Caroline, and Kasey are in their final days of high school and on the precipice of all the things teenagers look forward to when anything in life seems possible . . . from falling in love, to finding their dream jobs, to becoming who they were meant to be.
 
In 2019, Kasey has returned to her small Southern hometown of Goldie for the first time since high school—and she still hasn’t told even her closest friends the truth of what really happened that summer after graduation, or what made her leave so abruptly without looking back. Now reunited with her friends in Goldie for a wedding, she’s determined to focus on the simple joy of being together again. But when she notices troubling signs that one of them might be in danger, she is catapulted back to that fateful summer. This time, Kasey refuses to let the worst moments of her past define her; this time, she knows how to protect those she loves at all costs.
 
Uplifting, sharp-edged, and unapologetic, Goodbye Earl is a funeral for all the “Earls” out there—the abusive men who think they can get away with anything, but are wrong—and a celebration of enduring sisterhood.

Publisher: Grand Central Publishing

Print pages: 336

Sample

1

Yep. That electric slut-red cherry on top of the Goldie Dairy Dee sign was zapping like always, even though Kasey Fritz hadn’t been back home to see it in fifteen years. She rolled the rental car window down and stuck her hand out—like maybe she could touch the ghosts she knew were there, like lightning bugs wisping through the summer dark.

The old used car lot was now a family-style Mexican restaurant. The gas station where she and her girlfriends stopped to get slushies after school got turned into a fancy new gas station with more pumps and glowing bulbs hanging overhead than the one before. It was lit up like a fish tank as Kasey drove past. She went through the green light, knowing the next turn would put her right in front of where the laundromat, the KFC, and the liquor store once were. They’d been replaced by a brand-new boutique hotel, which she’d read about online right after Taylor sent her to the wedding website.

Enjoy Goldie! You can visit a farm, stroll around the old-fashioned town square, get a mixed cocktail with your fried chicken at the swanky hotel restaurant…

The town decided to knock down a KFC to build a hotel that sold a plate of fried chicken for thirty dollars. Kasey wowed as she remembered checking the price twice, so sure she must’ve read it wrong. She stopped the car in front of the hotel and pulled the brake. She’d refused the luxury rental they attempted to upsell her at the airport thirty minutes away and gotten a little hatchback stick shift instead. The hotel’s valet parking wasn’t optional and Kasey tipped well, but she wheeled her luggage to the front desk on her own as a tiny act of defiance.

The receptionist was young, so young. Was that how young they were making hotel receptionists now? Kasey was only thirty-three, but this girl behind the counter didn’t look like she should be allowed out past ten. Kasey gave her the wedding hashtag—#PlumBMarried—as Taylor had instructed her, guaranteeing the discounted hotel room. The Plums had more than enough room to house her, and it was true that Kasey had grown up counting every penny; it also felt ridiculous to be paying so much to stay in some fancy hotel in Goldie, of all places. Still, money wasn’t an issue anymore, and Kasey liked having her own space. She insisted on staying at the hotel for the entire wedding week and not imposing on anyone—yes, wedding week because nothing, not one thing, was too much for little miss Taylor Plum.

The receptionist gave Kasey a small, stiff card for free drinks with her first and last name and #PlumBMarried written on the back in frilly cursive. Kasey pocketed it and glanced around quickly, betting she’d see someone she knew.

Thankfully, she didn’t.

Whew and praise Jesus. She wasn’t ready for that just yet.

The hotel lobby was piping out a comforting lavender-vanilla scent to go along with the coffeehouse acoustic playlist—brushy voice and guitar, soft and low. Both the smell and the music hemmed Kasey in as she made her way to the elevator. There was a big digital screen inside flashing a slideshow of Main Street and the town square. The green hills and blue sky. Smiling, sunglassed families. Rich-looking tourists. Enjoy quaint Americana! slid across in a fat yellow font so bright Kasey squinted at it and scrunched up her nose. The screen jumped to black and she almost laughed at the ridiculous reflection staring back at her.

*  *  *

Once Kasey got to her room, she plopped on the bed and promptly tapped the Devon messages to text her fiancé and let him know she was safe.

He responded, So glad to hear it. Do you feel like talking? It’s ok if you don’t.

Not really, but thanks. So freakiiiing weeeeird being back…but…I don’t know. Maybe seeing everything in the sun tomorrow will make a difference.? I hope so.

It will. Have you bumped into anyone you know yet?

Weirdly and thankfully, no.

Did you go to the farmhouse?

Nope.

Gotcha. Call me in the morning? I love you.

I will. I love you too.

As Kasey texted Devon, she undressed and took a speedy shower. Brushed her teeth. By the time they were finished, she was in bed with the lamp off, the blue light of the television glowing the room. It’d comforted her ever since she was a little girl, sleeping with the TV on. She turned on a home-renovation show and drifted away easily as a couple timidly argued about whether to go with Italian or French marble for their kitchen countertops.

*  *  *

The blackout curtains did their job a little too well. Kasey was knocked out for a full eight hours, something that rarely happened back home in New York. Between her job as finance manager of LunaCrush—the third-largest beauty company in the world—and traveling for work and meetings at work and drinks after work and emails and phone calls and Devon and her girlfriends and and and, the thought of getting a full eight hours of peaceful, dreamy sleep at night in New York City was ridiculous. Being in Goldie gifted Kasey the luxury of being dead to the world.

She sat at the table by the window in her matching underwear, the sunshine warming her face. She drank the surprisingly good hotel room coffee, sipping carefully and scrolling through the wedding group chat Taylor had added her to, although Kasey had never written in it. The last one from Taylor read,

Good morning, bitches! I love you all so much and I’m so glad you’re here to celebrate our special weeeeek! Get your asses to the Plum house as SOON as you can for mimosas and cupcakes. Srsly, there’s so much food! GET. HERE. NOW.

The other girls began chiming in quickly, at least a million of them.

OMW!I LOVE YOU SM BITCH!Can I bring you anything?Are we doing dressy-dressy?Of course it's dressy-dressy, this is the south! :P Dress up like you're going to a football game!Can someone come pick me up? I am NOT walking in these big-ass heels.



Kasey set the group chat to Do Not Disturb before calling Devon and telling him her plans for the day. Devon was a Listener and stayed quiet as she complained about the embarrassing fawning, the possible tension, and all the questions she knew were waiting for her.

“Well, Kase…I offered to come with you, but you said you wanted to do this alone. Do you still want to do this alone?” Devon asked when she was finished. “You have a hard time admitting you need help. I wish you didn’t. It would make things a lot easier sometimes,” he added. Kasey heard New York City clichés over the line—quick honks, rumbly construction, overlapping chatter.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” she said. Devon meant well. She was sure he could hear her loud facial expressions over the phone; he’d told her plenty of times that her face could use a volume button. “Thank you. I’m okay, I am. Just venting. I can take care of it, and trust me, there’s no point in you coming here. At all. Pfft, let’s talk about something else. Tell me something good, please.”

Although it frustrated him, Devon was used to Kasey deflecting whenever he wanted to dig deeper about Goldie and what life was like for her growing up. She gave him—along with everyone else—the bare minimum: she was from a small town, didn’t have much family, had an asshole stepdad, both of her parents died when she was young. Orphaned, she left right after high school and never came back, never looked back either. She’d ditched that town in the dust because Kasey Fritz was so much bigger and better than Goldie, that was for damn sure.

Devon launched into the things he saw on his early morning run in the park. Described the dogs in full detail for Kasey’s pleasure. Two scrappy Yorkies in matching yellow bows. A hyper golden retriever living its best life. A tiny brown-and-white mutt with a tennis ball in its mouth.

“You’re very good at loving me,” she said, sighing.

“You’re easy to love” was his reply.

“Yeah…uh-huh. Super easy and agreeable and never annoying. Sure.”

“It’s true. Even when you’re fussy,” he said.

“Righto, D. Okay. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Please do. Here for whatever you need. Just say the word, bird. Just tell me the plan, Jan. Let me know the deal, Neil…”

After laughs and I love yous, Kasey finished her coffee and got dressed.

  

Two hope you have a good time, safe travels, love you texts from her girlfriends in the city. She sent them both kissy-face emojis in return.

One missed call from Rosemarie.

Two missed calls from Ada, and one text.

One text from Caroline.

  

Kasey left them unanswered.

  

RACK: Rosemarie, Ada, Caro, and Kasey. They’d been best friends since they were babies. Taylor was Ada’s younger sister. Kasey would see them all soon enough and they’d fall into place like they had ever since they were little. They were her sisters; they’d made their own family and gotten through their darkest moments together. They could get through anything—they could.

  

This is it. It’s happening. I’m back and I’m going to see my best friends again.

*  *  *

Kasey’s heart cartwheeled as she walked toward Plum Bakery—still smack-dab in the middle of the town square. The building was lavender and pale pink with green polka-dotted letters, the windows filled with pastel-colored sweet treats, cupcakes, cakes, and pies. Right next to the bakery was the restaurant, Plum Eats. Down on the corner, Plum Florals connected to Plum Designs. The Plum family had run a small bakery in town for over a hundred years before Ada and her mother turned Plum Inc. into the monster of a local empire it was today. There’d been a headline on the front of the Goldie Gazette last year: ADA PLUM-CASTELOW, GOLDIE’S STAR AND SOURCE OF STYLE. Caroline had emailed it to Rosemarie and Kasey when it happened, along with RACK NEWS! Look at our girl! Rosemarie replied from Barcelona, No surprise, this beauty. I love her so much. Kasey had written back, Oh wow look at our girl indeed!

Rosemarie, Ada, Caro, and Kasey tried their best to keep in touch with one another as much as they had in the past, but at times it was impossible with their busy schedules. Rosemarie was leading hunger-relief initiatives both domestically and all over the globe. Ada had the Plum Inc. empire on top of her husband and four(!) boys. Caro had recently gotten married and was forever busy with baking.

Ada and Caro stayed in Goldie, and since Caro ran Plum Bakery now, they were the two who saw each other most often and remained as close as they were in high school. The foursome had gotten together every now and again when their schedules aligned in the fifteen years since they’d graduated from high school, but never in Goldie. Always in NYC or Seattle. Seattle: Rosemarie’s new home base whenever she was stateside. Who could resist a girls’ week/weekend in either of those cities? Well, in truth, Kasey had tried resisting it the first time, but Rosemarie showed up on her doorstep hollering KASEY FRITZ, IT’S ROSES! I LOVE YOU AND I FOUND YOU! Ada and Caro flew up the next day. Kasey knew Rosemarie would be the first to come see her; Rosemarie also had been the first to email her after she left. She kept emailing even when Kasey took too long to write back or didn’t reply at all.

When they all got together that first time in New York, the girls sat Kasey down and again demanded answers. Kasey listened, they cried. She told them what she’d always told them: that she’d felt like if she didn’t leave that night, she’d be trapped forever. When Rosemarie was the last to go, she told Kasey she’d get the girls to lay off from asking her to explain herself, as long as she promised to never go completely radio silent on them. Kasey made that easy promise.

  

The old-timey movie theater was still there and so was the whipping American flag on the pole shooting up from the courthouse lawn. A small group of laughing teenagers got into a car in front of it. The video store was gone but Myrtle’s Diner hadn’t budged. So much looked exactly the same. Kasey walked slowly, taking it all in.

“Hot damn! Kasey Fritz, as I live and breathe, I’d know you anywhere, lookin’ just like your mama,” a voice next to her said from underneath a navy-blue ballcap. Duke Nichols took off his hat. Duke was a former marine, a Vietnam vet, who had worked at the grocery store with her mom back in the day. Last time she’d seen him he’d been skinnier with a full head of hair, a smooth face. He was a big, bald, bearded sweetheart now. He’d been so kind to Kasey when she was growing up, sneaking her candy and pops on her way out of the store when she stopped in to visit her mom. Now, Duke owned one of the busiest bars in town. Seeing him bloomed her heart into a swirly mess of happy and sad. Duke Nichols had been such a good friend to her mom it was perfect that he was the first to welcome her home. She felt safer in his shadow; she wished she could tell her mama that.

“Hi, Duke,” Kasey said, smiling, pushing her sunglasses atop her head.

Duke swallowed her up in one of his bear hugs and she melted in his arms.

“You ain’t been back here in what…?” he asked.

“It’s been fifteen years, just about. Since I graduated from high school,” Kasey answered as they pulled away to look at each other. Duke still had his hands on her shoulders, and Kasey’s eyes got watery.

“You’re back because the Plum girl’s getting married,” he said, squeezing her again and returning his arms to his sides.

“Yep. Little Taylor. I’m headed there now,” she said.

After she caught up with Duke—and promised to stop by his place for a piece of his wife’s cherry pie before returning to the Big Apple—she kept walking. An older gentleman walking a chocolate Lab with a red kerchief around its neck excused himself past her after saying hello. Kasey made a mental note to tell Devon about the dog when she texted him later to say that the sunshine had made a difference. Goldie really did sparkle in the morning awash in the golden light it was named for, the lemony sun cutting across the rolling hills.

June in Good Ol’ Goldie’s town square still smells the same—hot ice cream and garbage, she thought. It was comforting, she admitted to herself. It made her feel two-faced, telling the good-parts truth about Goldie. How could the place she’d grown to hate so much look so pretty? How could even the rotten parts make her wistful? She thought she’d feel downright miserable when she saw the WELCOME TO GOLDIE sign as she drove into town…but she hadn’t.

All Kasey felt in those last moments making her way to the Plum house was hot; her face was starting to sweat. Good Ol’ Goldie, humidity’s best friend. She’d gone half dressy-dressy and put on a brand-new white V-neck eyelet dress, her small strand of real pearls, and her tobacco-brown cowboy boots. So unlike the minimalist, clean lines she wore in New York. Stepping into that white dress and those boots felt like stepping into a time machine—the ghost of Goldie Kasey’s past.

*  *  *

The Plum house sat like a big pink trilevel cake on a tray of green grass. That morning it was festooned—from the mansard roof down to the historical plaque announcing it as the oldest house in Goldie—with Instagram-worthy balloon arches and fresh flower decorations. Peony bouquets the size of small children lined the steps. A big banner that read CONGRATULATIONS, TAYLOR AND BEN hung across the porch columns, the letters glimmering and catching the light. Pink, pink, pink! Everylittlebit of it. It’d been both Taylor’s and Ada’s favorite color their entire lives.

The inside of the house adhered strictly to the theme—pink twinkle lights and tulle, pink streamers and ribbons, T-A-Y-L-O-R in huge, individual rose-gold balloons. Kasey put the bag holding Taylor’s bridal shower gift on a table covered with a pink tablecloth, and it was no surprise when Ada herself appeared in pink chiffon bell sleeves squealing Kasey’s name.

“Oh oh oh, you’re here! I’m so glad you’re here. Finally! Tay, Kase is here! In Goldie!” Ada said the last part up at the ceiling, her bouncy brown-blonde hair falling down her back, although Taylor was nowhere to be seen.

“I’m so glad to see you. Everything looks annoyingly perfect. I mean, of course…you did all this. It looks…amazing. You look amazing,” Kasey said, staring into Ada’s hooded smoky-blue eyes. Kasey had to bend down a bit to hug her properly.

“Oh please, thank you. But you! It’s been too long since you’ve been in front of me, and I hate that. I need to see you more. In real life! Why weren’t you texting on the way here? Why didn’t you call last night?” Ada asked, letting Kasey go.

“I’m sorry—I am. It’s bizarre being back, but all that matters is…I’m here now! Aaand I need a drink,” Kasey said as a woman she didn’t know stopped next to them and kissed the air. Ada leaned her cheek over to the woman’s mouth.

“Kasey? Kasey Fritz!” a high school acquaintance of the foursome said from the staircase. She was with some other girls Kasey only vaguely recognized; they’d gone to the other high school.

“Hi!” Kasey waved up at them.

“Of course. Go! Get a drink and go out back. I’ll be right there,” Ada said to her.

Ada’s husband, Grayson Castelow—tall in a lilac seersucker suit—smiled and boomed, “What up, Fritz?!” and hugged Kasey like the old friends they were. Grayson, a year ahead of them in school, had always been a gem. Kasey got on her tiptoes to hug his neck and asked him about their boys.

“Mama has the little ones upstairs,” Grayson said, gesturing vaguely, “and the twins are playing outside with their friends. Oh, wow, it’s really good to see you. Welcome! Can I get you anything?”

“No, but thank you, Grayson.”

“All right, just let me know if I can do anything. This should feel like your home,” he said as he was nudged and pulled into a conversation with a rowdy gumball group of men dressed in bright suits.

“KaseyEffinFritz?” a girl from junior year seventh period leaned over to squeal at her.

“Hey! It’s me,” Kasey said, smiling.

“The hell?! I swear we thought you’d died or something!” The girl threw her head back and laughed like it was the funniest thing she’d ever heard.

“Ta-da,” Kasey said weakly, still smiling.

Bless Rosemarie Kingston’s heart with her God-given timing. She stepped into the foyer in an earth-colored linen short suit, Birkenstocks, and giant hoop earrings, strikingly out of place amidst the candy-colored sundresses.

“I assure you Kasey Fritz is alive and well and I do need to borrow her for just a bit; please excuse us,” Rosemarie said to the girl from high school. Saved! She took Kasey by the arm and led her to the back deck, where Rosemarie promptly plucked two bubbling flutes of champagne and handed one to her.

“I love you,” Rosemarie said as they hugged, careful not to spill.

“I love you too,” Kasey said. “So much. Look at how beautiful you are.”

“You’re the one. You have the best ass out of all of us. I’m way too skinny. I’ve already had a cupcake and a slice of cake,” Rosemarie said, all brown skin and coconuts—her forever shampoo. Kasey noticed her long lashes swiped with mascara and barely tinted lip gloss, which was about as fancy as Rosemarie got makeup-wise. She had her hair pulled up with a white scarf tied in it, the loose knot and leftover fabric like petals at the base of her neck. “Take a cupcake,” Rosemarie commanded. Kasey obeyed, grabbing one with a cloud of lime-colored frosting and pink sprinkles. “There’s Caro. Have you seen her yet?” she asked and pointed, taking Kasey’s cupcake hand by the wrist.

They snaked across the deck, through the buzzy crowd. There were a couple gasps from people Kasey knew, more smiles and squeals. Kasey’s face was already tired from smiling, but that didn’t matter when she saw Caroline leaning against the railing on the other side. Goddess-like, her thick red hair flamed over the shoulder of her white long-sleeved turtleneck minidress. She was sipping something honey colored from her champagne flute, the stem tied with a white ribbon. Without a word, the three girls got close, pressed their foreheads together. The tension Kasey had worried about was there, but it wasn’t as thick as she’d anticipated. And it disappeared in a blink as soon as Taylor appeared.

“Oh me, me! Lemme in!” Taylor said, squeezing in next to Kasey and kissing her cheek. “Kase, you’re here and I can’t believe I’m looking at you! I love your boots!” she said, putting her arms around the girls.

“Hi, Taylor! Yes, yes, I’m here,” Kasey said.

“Tay! I haven’t even seen your ring. Where’s Ben? I haven’t seen him either! Where’s the groom?” a woman said a bit too loudly from behind them, and that quickly, the embrace was broken. Taylor was gone, replaced by Ada, who reached out for Kasey’s hand but laughed as Kasey used it to take the first bite of her cupcake.

“This is so good, Ada. Caro, this is so good,” Kasey said to them. She took another bite. She hadn’t eaten all morning and that cupcake tasted as if it’d been baked by God Himself.

Rosemarie’s finger got the rebel frosting from the tip of Kasey’s nose, and she licked it off. Caro smiled at them and retrieved the small, round flask she had hidden behind the flowerpot on the railing. Refilled her flute.

“Day-drinking Foxberry Bourbon? Tsk-tsk, Caroppenheimer, you naughty minx,” Rosemarie said, calling Caro by the nickname they’d given her in kindergarten. Caroline Oppenheimer turned into Caro Oppenheimer turned into Caroppenheimer. Even though she was Caroline Foxberry now, the nickname was forever stuck like glue.

Caro winked at them. “Cheers!” she said.

Her new husband’s family came from a long line of slaveowners and tobacco farmers, and they owned the brewery, the winery, and the two large distilleries near town, as well as several others spread across the South. The list went on and on: Foxberry Beer, Foxberry Gin, Foxberry Vodka, Foxberry Bourbon, Foxberry Wine, Foxberry Moonshine. At Halloween? Foxberry Pumpkin Ale. Christmas, Foxberry Winter Spice. Why not Foxberry Resurrection Communion Juice for Easter? Or start calling it Foxberry Rain when the heavens open? Aren’t they all soaking up the Foxberry Sun? Kasey thought as she watched Caro drink.

Caro offered her flask to them, and Rosemarie and Kasey took small sips.

“Honestly, Ada. Taylor’s so lucky. You’ve outdone yourself,” Kasey remarked. She finished her cupcake and put her arm around Ada’s waist, nuzzling in. Ada nodded because she knew it was true. She was a woman who always went above and beyond what was expected.

The foursome looked out at the crowd spilling from the house into the backyard— colorful knots of people milling in and out of the white tents, feasting on pink-confetti cupcakes, sipping cold champagne and prosecco in the high noon sun. A plucky bluegrass band was playing in one of the tents; the happy, quick music hung on the wind. The whole deal was not unlike the high school graduation party they’d had in that same spot fifteen years ago. That party was the last shot of sunshine before the storm, and for so long afterward, there hadn’t been a rainbow in sight, not even a slip of light.

Everything was different now, but somehow—like strange, humming magic pulled through time—to Kasey, it all felt the same.

2

Kasey and the girls were on the front porch of the Plum house after school, each one of them with a piece of banana pudding icebox cake and a clinky glass of tea. The March air still carried a chill, but the afternoon sunlight was slanting in a dreamy way—hope for warmth and good things to come. They were supposed to be going over graduation party plans, but Caro and Kasey had fallen into a fit of giggles talking about one of their teachers.

“No, seriously, though! The last day of school is, like, two months away and he’s already given up. He’s not doing anything. All he talks about is his divorce. Oh, Shelly has a new boyfriend…Shelly took the dog…” Caro said, mimicking their teacher’s deep voice.

“He’s such a loser! He told us the same thing yesterday!” Ada chimed in.

“Hold on, Juno is a really adorable dog, though. I’d be pissed if someone took my dog,” Rosemarie said with her bare feet in Ada’s lap. Being a dog person was a strong part of Rosemarie’s personality and so was doing spot-on impersonations. “Give me Juno back, you bitch!” she said, sounding exactly like their teacher.

“Wait, waitwait! Forreal. Don’t y’all think he’s kind of cute, though?” Kasey said.

“Who?! Mr. Chandler?! Absolutely not,” Rosemarie said with a full mouth.

“Don’t judge! I said kind of!” Kasey said.

“Y’know…I can see it…” Ada said. She and Rosemarie had Mr. Chandler for English first period, Caro and Kasey had him for fourth.

“Ada, you’re basically already Mrs. Grayson Castelow, so your vote doesn’t count. It’s distorted,” Rosemarie said.

“You have so many girl crushes; your vote is distorted too,” Ada said, sticking her tongue out. She took her last bite of cake.

“Hey! I have boy crushes too, just not freaking sad bastard Mr. Chandler!” Rosemarie said. She sat up and pushed her ears out like Mr. Chandler’s, and the girls started giggling so much Taylor smacked open the screen door and asked what was so funny. “I was being ridiculous, Tay, that’s all,” Rosemarie said.

“What are y’all gonna do now?” Taylor asked, hungry for attention. Ada’s little sister was the RACK mascot with her whole eleven-year-old heart. She was forever attempting to tag along and tried her best to stay up late when the girls slept over. She’d even decided TRACK was just as good of a combo name as RACK, and she always reminded them how easy it’d be to slide her T in front.

“You’re going to do your homework, and I’m going to start dinner before Mama and Daddy get home. Everyone else is heading out,” Ada said, collecting the girls’ empty cake plates.

“I’m off to work. Diner’s a-callin’,” Caro said. She stood and brushed her hands off on the teeny strawberry jean short shorts she loved to wear so much. “Bye, y’all.” She touched each one of them on the top of the head like they were in a quick game of duck, duck, goose before walking away.

“Fritz, are you tutoring today?” Rosemarie asked.

“Nope. But I gotta go because Dumbass needs the truck, and if it gets him out of the house, I don’t care what it’s for,” Kasey said, standing too.

“You can spend the night here whenever you want, Kase. You know Mama and Daddy never mind,” Ada said.

Kasey stared down the street until Caro’s long red ponytail and strawberry shorts got lost in the hazy buzz.

“My parentals have the gig at the bar. They won’t be home until, like, two in the morning. Regardless, you’re more than welcome to crash with me anytime too, Fritz,” Rosemarie said.

“Thanks, y’all. It’s…fine. I’ll see you in the morning. Love you,” Kasey said after hesitating, taking in their offers. She walked down the porch steps, got into her truck, and waved as she pulled off.

*  *  *

The farmhouse Kasey lived in was a six-minute drive from Ada’s pink mansion, a three-minute drive from Caro’s cute trailer park, and a five-minute drive from Rosemarie’s wind chimey house. The girls had grown up knowing every inch of Goldie—the shortest shortcuts to the lake, the ditches with the best crawdads and turtles, the bushes and flowers, every patch of wild onions, dirt, and grass. They’d grown up at one another’s houses, could find their way through them with their eyes closed—every notch in the wood, every doorknob, every screen door and window they had to jiggle just right to open up. They knew Caro’s driveway had the sharpest rocks to hurt their bare feet, that Rosemarie’s driveway was smooth. That they could see both Goldie High’s and South Goldie High’s Friday night lights from Ada’s balcony, that Kasey’s backyard was the froggiest on summer nights, and that the water at her farmhouse was choppier than the water on the other side of the lake.

The girls never hung out at Kasey’s anymore, though.

Not since her dumbass stepdad, Roy.

The farmhouse that her real daddy and his friends built with their bare hands was on the edge of Goldie, almost like if Kasey stayed there too long, she could slip right off the map.

She promised herself that one day, she’d actually do it.

Roy truly was a dumbass and an angry ass and a violent ass too. Kasey hated him more than she ever thought she could hate someone. He hit Kasey’s mom when he got drunk and nasty, and when Kasey’s mom wasn’t there, he’d smack Kasey around too. The last time he’d done it, Kasey took a steak knife and told him if he ever touched her again, she’d stab him without thinking twice.

It’d been a month since.

The girls knew some of what Kasey’s home life was like even though she didn’t tell them everything. She didn’t tell them Roy pulled her hair and smacked her across the face once when she was doing the dishes “too loud.” She didn’t tell them about the time he’d pushed her into the wall for talking back when all she’d done was ask him to repeat what he had said. Kasey couldn’t bring herself to tell the girls those things. It was all too dark, too embarrassing.

Kasey’s dad, Isaiah, was killed by a drunk driver when she