The Necklace

1: The Beginning

"Aww, she's dreaming."

"More like drooling."

"But look at her! She's so cute. We should draw on her face, where's your eyeliner?"

I jolt awake to the sound of Sienne rummaging in her bag. My eyes open just in time to see her brandishing a black eyeliner mere inches from my face.

"Let's not draw on me while I'm out cold, thanks," I mumble, my voice groggy as I swipe away the last remnants of sleep from my eyes.

Sienne just laughs, lowering the eyeliner with a smirk. "Morning, sunshine."

"We weren't doing anything wrong!" Kelly chimes in, her wide-eyed expression of innocence fooling absolutely no one.

Ordinarily, I'd be mad about a stunt like this, but with Sienne and Kelly, I expect nothing less. They've been my best friends for years, and pranks are just part of the package.

As I stretch, blinking the sleep away, I glance around. We're in the car, still en route to Plato Beach, and judging by the groans of my stiff muscles, we've been driving for hours. This trip is our graduation celebration—a last hurrah before the real world catches up with us. Along for the ride are Kelly's boyfriend, Carter, and my other friend, Jesse. Sienne and Kelly insisted I sit between them, but I should've known it was a setup for shenanigans.

I look out the window and spot a familiar sight: an old, weathered fruit stand by the side of the road. My family used to stop here every summer on our way to the beach when I was a kid. The stand feels smaller, a little sadder somehow, but it still has that undeniable country charm. I can almost taste the watermelon the owner would slice for me, sweet and cold on those blazing July days.

"Are we there yet?" Kelly asks, drumming her fingers on her armrest as she leans over to Carter.

"Almost, babe. Just another ten miles."

It's funny how driving to Plato Beach is stirring up memories. It's been years since my family came here together. I used to ask my mom to take me back, but she'd always say no, claiming it reminded her too much of my dad.

I guess it wouldn't hurt to do some introduction. I'm Elina Warren, 22 years old, fresh out of Catlan University with a psych degree, and utterly directionless. When I enrolled, I wanted to be a therapist. Now? I have no idea. I'm hoping this summer will bring some clarity—or at least give me a break from the constant pressure to figure everything out.

Finally, Carter pulls into the gravel driveway, and we all breathe a collective sigh of relief.

"We're here!" Carter yells, throwing his arms up.

"Ugh, finally! Elina and I call dibs on the best room!" Sienne squeals, grabbing my hand.

The beach house we rented is stunning—a cozy, pastel-blue cottage just a block from the water. As we pile out of the car, I catch a glimpse of the ocean in the distance, waves crashing rhythmically against the shore.

Inside, Sienne and I race up the stairs, laughing as we claim the mermaid-themed room. It's charming, with seashell decor and soft aqua walls, and—most importantly—its own bathroom. We hear another car pull up and head downstairs to greet the rest of our group: Mario, Stephan, and Stephan's girlfriend, Gina. They're all carrying bags, but Mario's the only one holding what seems like a lifetime supply of alcohol.