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'You don't know anything,' Tresa snapped.

'No? Who the hell else do you think did this?'

'It wasn't Mark.'

Troy shook his head. 'You're actually jealous, aren't you? Jesus. The fucking pervert was stalking Glory, and all you can think about is yourself.'

'You have no idea what you're talking about. There was nothing between Mark and Glory.'

'Oh, come on, Bradley obviously had a hard-on for her, the son of a bitch.'

Tresa shoved him, which was like pushing against the trunk of a tree. 'Shut up, Troy, just shut your mouth. You think Glory was so sweet? Do you have any idea how many boys she slept with?'

'Don't talk like that!'

'What, I'm supposed to pretend she was a princess because she's dead? Sorry, I won't do that. She probably came on to some biker on the beach, or she tried to buy drugs from the wrong person. Wake up, Troy. Glory used you like she used everyone.'

'I loved her,' Troy murmured.

'I loved her too, but she got a free pass for everything. Mom's probably out there right now wishing it was me that died.'

'That's crazy.'

'Yeah? For the last six years, I've been invisible. Everything's been about Glory. Ever since the fire.'

'She almost died,' Troy protested.

'I know. She almost died. Poor Glory, she's screwed up because of the fire. Well, fuck her.' Tresa bit her lip, knowing she'd gone too far.

It had always been that way between the two sisters. Sometimes you didn't know they loved each other because of all the bitterness and jealousy. Troy watched tears slip down Tresa's face, which she wiped away with her shirt. He felt like crying too, but he hadn't been able to squeeze out any tears since he heard the news. He was just numb. And guilty.

He saw Glory's mom storm into the foyer. When she got angry, you didn't want to be in the firing line with Mrs Fischer, because she had a temper. He cringed to see her, because he knew what she would say. Their eyes met, and he could feel all of her grief and rage unloading silently on him across the room. Before he could say anything or explain, she gestured to Tresa and opened her arms. Tresa ran to her, and the two of them embraced and sobbed together. A minute earlier, Tresa had been bitter about Glory; now, she moaned into her mother's shoulder as they shared the loss.

Delia stroked Tresa's red hair. Troy sat there, ignored. It was probably better that way, with her not looking at him. Eventually, though, Glory's mom detached herself and told Tresa to get her a glass of water. Delia Fischer waited until Tresa was gone, and then she descended on Troy.

He climbed to his feet, and the tears finally came. 'Mrs Fischer, listen, I—'

'Don't make excuses with me, Troy,' Delia said, practically spitting at him. 'You promised me, didn't you? What did you say? You said you'd protect her. You said I didn't need to worry.'

'I know, it's just that I didn't - I mean, Glory didn't come back -'

Troy's voice cracked. He hated himself for being weak. He hated himself for having failed her.

'You knew that pervert, that rapist, was right here at the resort, and you left Glory alone? Are you crazy?'

'Tresa says she doesn't think that Bradley would have done this,' Troy protested meekly.

'Tresa? What the hell do I care what Tresa thinks about Mark Bradley? That man brainwashed her into his bed. I know men like him. I know what they do to teenage girls. This is about you, Troy. I trusted you. I trusted you. You told me you'd protect my baby, and she's dead. You let her die.'

For a husky kid, Troy felt himself getting smaller and smaller, until he thought he could shrink into the tiniest hole in the earth and disappear. 'I'm so sorry, Mrs Fischer,' he pleaded. 'Really.'

Glory's mom slapped him. Her fingers clapped against his cheek so hard that he stumbled backward. His hand flew to his face, which stung like he'd been attacked by wasps. He opened his mouth to say something, to say anything, and he had nothing to say to her at all.

'Your father's right about you,' Mrs Fischer sneered. 'You are completely