The Rest of the Story(29)

“We’re possessive about our bottles,” she said, clearly having noticed this. She pulled a huge container of bleach off a shelf. “If you find one you really like, you have to claim it.”

“Aren’t they all the same?”

She screwed off the top of her own. “At a glance, yes. But there are subtle differences. Tautness of handle, for example. And some have an adjustable spray, but others don’t.”

Again, I looked at my own bottle, which I was still holding, and gave it a quick squirt. It did feel a little loose.

“You don’t get your own for just one day,” she told me, filling up her TRINITY-marked one with water. “They’re earned, not given.”

“It’s a spray bottle,” I pointed out.

“Not here,” she replied. “Here, it’s a badge of honor. Now hand that over so I can refill it.”

I did, then watched as she filled it up with the same mix of water and bleach. Then she put it on the shelf with all the others before placing her TRINITY one beside it.

“How long have you been doing this?” I asked.

“Officially? Since June. But I started helping clean when I was Gordon’s age,” she replied. “Bailey and Jack, too. We didn’t have a choice, same as with the Station.”

Family business, again. My dad had his own practice, not that I’d ever worked a day there. I’d spent my summers at various camps and traveling with my father or Nana. None of my friends worked real jobs yet. But things were clearly different here.

“A lot of people have passed through, huh?” I said, again scanning the names.

“It’s a lake town,” she replied. “Nobody stays for long unless they have roots here.”

We put in some more sheets, then folded a load of towels before she pronounced us finished for the day. As we walked down the sidewalk toward Mimi’s, we passed a family of guests heading up from the dock. The dad was pulling a cooler stacked with beach toys, the mom carrying a beer in one of those foam insulated holders. Their kids trailed along behind them, bickering and smelling of sunscreen.

As they all disappeared into room six, which we’d left pristine, I wondered how long it would take for them to mess it up again. Already I was tired. But thinking about this made me exhausted.

I was too wiped out to go out to the raft that afternoon, even if someone had invited me. Which they didn’t.

“Lake North Pavilion at eight, then over to Colin and Blake’s,” Bailey reported as she came down below the house with her plate, joining Trinity and me at the picnic table there. Mimi, also worn-out, had asked Oxford to pick up two buckets of fried chicken for dinner and was eating hers in front of the TV. There was no sign of Jack anywhere, at least not so far.

“That’s the plan?” Trinity asked.

“It’s what I said, isn’t it?”

“Sounds more like your plan,” her sister replied. “Lake North and yacht club boys.”

“Anyone who doesn’t like it doesn’t have to come,” Bailey said, putting her glass of milk down with a thunk. “Nobody’s got a damn gun to their head.”

“Let me guess,” Trinity said. “You’re snapping at me because I’m not the only one who expressed a lack of enthusiasm.”

“I’m not snapping at you,” Bailey replied. “I’m just tired of putting things together every night only to have people bitch and moan.”

“Summer just started, Bay.”

“Exactly. Too early to be so damn picky.”

They were both silent for a moment, during which I took a bite off my own plate, wondering if it was possible to have any meal in this house without some sort of friction. Finally I asked, “Did I meet Colin and Blake?”

“Not unless you’re taking sailing lessons at the yacht club,” Trinity said.

Bailey shot her a look. “Colin was out at the raft yesterday. He gave me a ride in. Blake’s his roommate.”

“Oh, right,” I said.

“And they’ve been over here every night this week,” Bailey said. “So it only seems fair that we reciprocate and go there for once.”

“Or,” Trinity said, picking up a biscuit from her plate, “we could just stick with our own kind the way nature intended.”

“That is such bullshit,” Bailey shot back. “You know as well as I do that the kids from both sides have hung out since this place was settled.”

“I’m not saying they haven’t. I’m saying maybe they shouldn’t.”

“Why? Because we’re not exactly alike?”

“Because we have nothing in common with those rich kids! And even if you do find one you like, do you think it’s actually going to end up being anything that lasts? Every time some girl we know gets tangled up with one of them, she gets dumped at the end of the summer. It’s like clockwork.”

“Not every time.”

“Every time.”

“My mom didn’t,” I said.

That shut them up. Which had not been my intention, really. I was just contributing, because for once I had something to add. Now that I’d done that, though, I realized this subject was a fraught one.

“She didn’t?” Trinity said after a moment. “They got divorced.”