Charlotte stared at the paper. Friday: Criminal Justice 101. The letters looked small on the large, flimsy paper. Her goal was law. Her reality was zero law classes. Mrs. Beal—the guidance counselor, assigned to the pre-law hopefuls—was a woman who smelled overwhelmingly of gardenias but reeked of disappointment. Colleges divided their students by futures they hadn’t lived yet, handing out maps to newcomers who only wanted to run. Prerequisites first, Beal had said. Many stud
Patch stood on the bow, his boots gripping the slick wood as the waves slammed hard against the hull. Overhead, the sky had turned the color of bruised slate, heavy and dark. He thought of Charlotte and the quiet oath he’d sworn to her before setting out. All through the long heat of summer, she and Saint had come down to the harbor under the cover of dark, meeting him right where his boat swayed in the dark slip. Night was the only hour that offered any cover; the law was st
