The Best Possible Answer(27)

I’m having so much fun, I’m able to wipe it all from my mind.

Mila jumps off my back and splashes me in the face. I splash her back.

“Hey, you guys, watch out!” Sammie has returned and is now planted on the edge of the pool again, this time closer to the lifeguard chair. There’s no camera, but she’s still mimicking Marilyn Monroe.

“Aren’t you coming in?” Mila asks.

“Maybe,” she says, and then she slides her hair over her shoulder. “In a little bit.”

She’s posing for Evan, trying to get his eyes back on her.

I turn to Mila. “Race?”

She nods and dashes out toward the shallow end. I leave Sammie to play her flirting game with Evan. I follow Mila, pretending to swim at full power, even though, of course, I’m going to let her win.

We get to the rope of the shallow end, and Mila announces her victory.

I laugh and hug her tight.

And then I can’t help it. I glance up at the chair. The pool is packed with kids—with school out, summer is finally in full swing—and Evan’s not paying attention to Sammie. Not at all.

He’s in work mode, scanning the pool back and forth to make sure everyone’s safe.

He stops and lifts his sunglasses. He looks straight at me. And he smiles.

I dive under the water and stay there as long as I can so that Sammie doesn’t see, before Mila pulls me up, only to splash water right in my face.

Tic-tac-toe.

Hit me high.

Hit me low.

Hit me three in a row.

Gonna get hit by a UFO!

Gonna get hit by a UFO!

Gonna get hit by a UFO!

Rock, paper, scissors.

I win, you lose.

Now you get a big bruise.

You win, fair and square.

Now I get to pull your hair.

“Wait, so whoever loses has to get punched, and whoever wins has to get their hair pulled? Where did you learn this awful game, Mila?” We just got out of the water after a good three hours, and we’re sitting on some lounge chairs near the office. Mila’s teaching Sammie and me these clapping games that are much darker than I ever remember.

“What happened to Miss Suzie and her steamboat?”

Sammie laughs. “That one was pretty dark, if I remember correctly. ‘Her steamboat went to hell, ding, ding’?”

“Oh yeah,” I say. “And then didn’t Miss Suzie sit upon a piece of glass—”

Sammie continues: “And broke her little ass—”

“Ask me no more questions—”

“I’ll tell you no more lies.”

“The boys are in the bathroom, and they’re pulling up their flies—” We sing this in unison.

“Ew!” Mila screams. “That’s disgusting! At least mine’s not disgusting!”

“But yours is mean, Mila,” I say. “You and your friends hit each other?”

Mila nods. “On the back.”

“Hard?”

Mila nods again.

Sammie laughs. “Do it to me.”

“Okay.” Mila shrugs. “Turn around.” Sammie does, and then Mila whacks her smack in the middle of her back. Hard. Really hard.

“Ow!” Sammie yelps. “That really hurt!”

“Mila! Say you’re sorry!”

“I’m sorry,” Mila says. “But that’s how hard my friends and I do it to each other.” She’s not even remotely upset by the fact that I am. In fact, she’s proud of the abuse that she and her friends inflict upon one another.

“Now you get to pull my hair,” Mila says to Sammie, laughing.

“I’m not going to pull your hair,” Sammie says. “Friends aren’t supposed to hurt each other.”

Friends aren’t supposed to hurt each other.

“Okay, fine. I’ll pull my own hair,” Mila says, and then she does, really hard, and then she laughs. “That hurt.”

“You’re crazy, little girl,” Sammie says.

Evan comes over and sits on the chair next to Mila, right across from me. “What in God’s name are you doing to yourself?”

“It’s a game. Want to play? I promise I won’t pull your hair.”

“Are you going to hit me like you hit Sammie?”

“Maybe.” Mila laughs.

“No, thank you.” He looks at me. “Is she always this abusive?”

“She’s always this wild,” I say.

“Am not,” Mila says, scrunching up her face at me. “Can we go to the zoo now? I want to see the baby gorilla that was born last week.”

“Seriously? You want to go to the zoo now? Aren’t you exhausted?”

“I’m surprised you’re not totally passed out,” Sammie says. “You guys were in the water for, what, three hours?”

“Yeah.” Mila holds up her hands. “My fingers are like dried cranberries.”

“Dried cranberries?” Evan says. “How gourmet! Mine only turn into raisins.”

“Can we go back in the water?” Mila whines. “I want to swim more.”

“I need a break,” I say.

“What about you, Sammie?” Mila begs. “Come in with me?”