Lovely Girls(16)

And yet . . . they didn’t seem the least bit shy or awkward. They seemed unpleasant. No, it was worse than that. The way they had stared up at me without speaking had been openly hostile.

I hope something bad happens to them.

The wish appeared unbidden in my thoughts. And yet it was true. I wanted life to humble this trio of unpleasant, spoiled girls. To knock them down. To take away their unwavering belief that they were special.

I knew there was something wrong with me that I’d think such a thing. But I also knew I couldn’t stop the bad thoughts from floating into my consciousness. The only thing I could do was to try to hide them behind smiles and niceties and hope no one ever figured out what I was really thinking.





CHAPTER EIGHT




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VIDEO DIARY OF ALEX TURNER



* * *





AUGUST 12

Alex sat outside in a bright-yellow Adirondack chair. Two large golden retrievers were next to her, one resting his chin on the armrest of the chair. Alex stroked the dog’s head. When she spoke, her voice was a whisper.

Current situation.

Alex flipped the camera view so it was pointed at the nearby pool, where Daphne, Shae, and Callie were floating on rafts. The three girls were chatting loudly, punctuating their conversation with occasional shrieks when they splashed one another.

“What do you think Coach is going to do with the lineup for the first match?” Shae asked. “I mean, obviously you’ll get first-court singles, Daph.”

“Obviously,” Daphne agreed. She paddled one hand in the water, lazily spinning her raft around. “Other than that, I don’t really care.”

Callie splashed Daphne. “Thanks, that’s very supportive of you.”

“Hey! Come on, Cee. You know you’ll probably get second singles,” Daphne said.

“Probably,” Shae said morosely. “I’ll get stuck playing doubles.”

Callie tipped her head back against her float. “I’m sure Coach will do whatever’s best for the team.”

“Oh, my God. You are so hot for Coach!” Daphne said.

Callie splashed Daphne again. “What? No, I’m not.”

“You are so. You’d totally fuck him.”

“Jesus, Dee. Stop screaming.” Callie shushed her. “Our moms are, like, just inside!”

“Are you afraid Ingrid is going to find out you want to fuck Coach?” Daphne teased.

“She totally is,” Shae said.

Callie raised her voice. “Will you two shut up.”

“Make me,” Daphne said.

The three girls began splashing one another again, screeching with laughter.

Alex turned the camera back on herself and rolled her eyes. When she spoke, her voice was a whisper.

I can’t believe my mom made me come here. Sometimes I think I really do hate her.





CHAPTER NINE




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KATE

Monday afternoon, I sat on the hard metal bleacher stands set up next to the high school tennis courts, watching Alex play her last opponent at the team tryouts. The temperature outside was almost unbearable, with the hot August sun blazing down and not even the hint of a breeze. The tryouts were down to three girls, and whoever won Alex’s match was guaranteed one of the two open spots on the team. The loser of this match would play the third girl for the other spot. I was trying to exude a sense of quiet confidence—Alex wouldn’t appreciate any open displays of concern—but my stomach was clenched as tight as a fist. Alex hit an ace to win her service game, and I exhaled loudly.

“Alex is only one game away now,” Genevieve said. She was sitting on one side of me, and Emma on the other. Ingrid was perched behind us, wearing a giant straw hat to shade her pale skin.

“She’s got this,” Emma said. “She’s playing great.”

“And even better, Stacey’s playing like shit,” Genevieve murmured. “I told you she chokes under pressure.”

“Harsh,” Ingrid said.

“But true,” Genevieve replied.

I knew it was wrong to root for a teenager to play poorly, but at the same time, I really wanted Alex to win. She needed a success to anchor her to this new life that she hadn’t wanted or asked for. And it felt good to have allies with me, friends who’d come to cheer on my daughter to succeed.

They didn’t seem upset that Alex and I had abruptly left the party Friday night. I could tell Alex was miserable, and I wanted to get her away from the other three girls. I’d made an excuse to cover our early departure, claiming I had an upset stomach. I think everyone had had so much wine by then, they barely noticed we were ducking out early. Everyone except for Joe. He’d held on to my hand for a few extra beats when we said our goodbyes.

“This is taking forever,” Daphne said from behind us. She yawned loudly.

Daphne and the other members of the tennis team were lounging on the top row of the bleachers, also watching the tryouts. They had their legs stretched out and their bags scattered around them, and one of the girls—one I didn’t recognize—was braiding each of the girls’ hair in turn.

Callie, Ingrid’s daughter, was the only girl not sitting with the team. She was standing with Coach Townsend at the side of the court where Alex was playing her match. Callie kept turning up to look at the coach, quick to laugh at anything he said, her arms entwined behind her back. Seth Townsend was tall and lean with shaggy dark-blond hair and high cheekbones. I glanced at Ingrid and wondered if she was aware of her daughter’s obvious crush.