The Rest of the Story(17)

“Uh-oh. Here we go,” a tall, slim black girl with short braids in an East U Volleyball T-shirt said under her breath.

“I’d stay out of it if I were you, April,” another guy with a fauxhawk and tattoos covering his arms said to her.

“Yeah, because that will end well,” April replied.

The next thing I knew, Yellow Bikini had crossed the short distance between us to stand right in front of me. Meeting my eyes, her own narrowed, she said, “Look, this is a basic lake rule. You don’t just show up with someone else’s boyfriend, okay?”

“Taylor,” April said. “Remember your calming meditations? Breathe in, then—”

“I’m breathing,” Taylor told her. “I just want answers.”

“I didn’t—” I said, trying to sound as assertive as she did. Unfortunately, my voice was shaking. Meanwhile, I could hear footsteps approaching, the new arrivals now also an audience to this.

“I didn’t,” she repeated in a high voice. She whirled around, looking at Jack. “Seriously? Who the hell is this girl?”

“His cousin,” another voice said, sounding as confident as I wished I had. “Mine, too. So will you get out of her face, please?”

All of a sudden, a girl was standing beside me. Even before I saw she was my height, with the same color blond hair and slightly upturned nose I’d always been self-conscious about, I didn’t doubt for a second that we were related. This was Bailey. I remembered. Again in a way I couldn’t even begin to understand, especially at that moment, but I did.

“Your cousin?” Taylor looked at me again. “You’re forgetting that I know all your cousins.”

“Not this one. Hasn’t been here since we were little kids.” Now, Bailey addressed me. “Hi, by the way.”

“Hi,” I said. This time, my voice didn’t crack.

She turned back to Taylor. “Are we done? If so, let’s make a plan.”

Taylor looked at me again. “Jack,” she said to my face. “We need to talk.”

“Oh, boy,” the guy with the fauxhawk said. “Duck and cover, y’all.”

As someone across the raft snorted, Taylor turned on her heel and walked across the raft to climb onto Jack’s boat. Jack followed, slowly, looking tired. As soon as he was on board, she started talking, although her words were lost as someone else arrived, their engine chugging.

I was no expert, but even at first glance I could tell something about this boat was different. It was longer, for starters, with a third row of seats—not worn, but shiny and clean—and a larger motor. The guy behind the wheel, tall with dark hair, was in shorts and a white polo shirt with some kind of insignia that I felt like I’d seen before. He had on mirrored sunglasses, reflecting our faces back at us.

“What’s up?” he called out. “Got a plan yet?”

“Oh, great,” April said with a roll of her eyes. “Look who’s here.”

“Stop it,” Bailey told her. “I told you, he’s nice.”

April did not look convinced, even as Bailey crossed the raft, jumping across two docked boats—gracefully, how?—to go talk to him. To me, April said, “She knows to watch out for those yacht club boys. Not that you can tell.”

“Yacht club?” I asked.

April nodded across the lake, at the distant big houses. “Over at Lake North. Everything’s bigger and better there, not that it stops them from coming to our side.”

I realized, suddenly, why I’d recognized the boy’s shirt. It was identical to the one my dad wore in the few pictures I’d seen from the summer he’d spent here teaching sailing when he met my mom. I looked at Bailey again, now scratching one foot with the other as she spoke to the boy, who was grinning up at her.

“That’s her boyfriend?” I asked.

“No,” the guy with the fauxhawk replied.

“Not yet,” April corrected, smiling. “Summer just started.”

“She’ll come to her senses,” he told her, rubbing his arm, where a tribal-patterned tattoo covered one bicep.

“And fall for you, Vincent?” she asked him. “Keep dreaming.”

“My point is,” he said, his face flushing, “I just don’t see them together.”

“Why not? He’s totally her type.”

“Which is what? Yacht club?” I asked.

“Rich boy with a dazzling smile,” she said. “And a nice boat. What’s your name again?”

“Emma,” I said. “You’re April?”

“And this is Vincent,” she said, pointing to the guy. “You here for the summer?”

“Just three weeks,” I said.

“How you kin to this lot?” When I just looked at her, not sure what this meant, she said, more slowly, “Are you a Calvander or a Blackwood?”

“Neither. I’m a Payne.” Obviously this was confusing, so I added, “My mom was a Calvander, though. Waverly.”

At the name, her eyes widened. “You’re Waverly’s daughter? Really?”

I nodded, suddenly aware of another set of eyes on me: Roo. He’d been over near another boat, coiling some ropes, but now he turned, looking at me as if for the first time. “Saylor?” he said.