Select (Select #1)(7)

Years ago, I realized I would never learn who my mother was or why the older members of the group seemed to avoid meeting my eyes. My whole life I had always exceeded expectations, even for our people, but I’d never been praised for it. I’d had to come to terms with never having answers. It was either that or go crazy.

When I’d hugged my dad, I’d left my sunglasses on the counter next to where Victoria now stood. I debated leaving them, but the sun would hurt my eyes and I’d lose that layer of protection that would hide my expression. I left my position behind Liv and casually grabbed my sunglasses from the marble surface where Victoria was leaning. She straightened at my proximity and must have seen down my black tank top.

“Why are you wearing my bathing suit?” she asked acidly.

“It was in my drawer. I thought it was Liv’s.” Wrong thing to say, I realized too late. She’d think I was saying she was too old to wear it. “I can change.”

“No,” she said flatly. The resentment aimed at me was subtle, but I was sensitive enough to pick it up. It vanished as quickly as it flared. “Keep it.”

Shaken, I walked back to my sister. In spite of our distance this summer, Liv was still my safety in this house.

“Where are you going?” Victoria asked again, as if the thought of Liv and me going somewhere together was completly unacceptable.

“I’m dropping Julia off at Ellis’s, and I’m going to Emma’s. To swim,” Liv lied.

She had actually lied. The old Liv wouldn’t have bought into that. I felt like someone had just kicked me in the chest. Even worse, Victoria knew Liv was lying. The trickle-down of that would only land on me.

“Bye, Mom.” Liv quickly kissed her cheek. Victoria looked back at Liv, clearly not satisfied. “Come back by three. Remember, I’m taking you to Grandma’s tonight.” I wasn’t included in that plan.

There was a moment of silence, and then Liv and I made our way to the elevator. When the doors opened into the garage, Liv automatically walked over to the black Range Rover without asking me first. She wanted to drive her new car. It was a change for me to ride in the passenger’s seat.

For a second it seemed as though Liv was going to say something. I stared straight ahead. Liv apparently decided against it.

When she started the car, the music came on loud, jolting us both, but she didn’t bother to turn it down. It made for good filler.

We wound out of our neighborhood, which was lush with greenery and hanging vines, then down the curves with water views and large homes hidden behind tall trees and massive gates. At the base of Scenic Drive, the car was spit out onto flat, hot pavement.





The first time I saw him, he had on a battered baseball hat and Ray-Bans. I noticed him getting out of an old white Ford Explorer close to where we’d parked, in the dusty lot at Barton Springs. I didn’t know why I was immediately drawn to him. I was always vaguely and automatically scanning my surroundings—especially in public, where there was excessive interest in us.

He saw us almost instantly, turning his head, along with the other people in the parking lot who were now staring. As soon as Liv exited the car, everyone tried to place her, wondering if she was some kind of celebrity hiding behind her sunglasses. Teenagers typically didn’t look like her or pull up in a car like that.

I felt his eyes on me, but, unlike everyone else, his gaze didn’t switch back to Liv. As we walked to the entrance, I was aware of how I looked beside her. Short and thin next to her tall curvaceousness, I was all hard exterior with my tattoos, my chin-length black bob, my skin pale against my black clothing. In contrast Liv was a natural beauty, dressed in all white, her hair cascading down her back. Self-consciously I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, then kicked myself for allowing an outsider to make me feel self-conscious.

It wasn’t just him, I told myself. I wasn’t used to all this public gawking. It would be better when summer ended and we went back to school on Monday. It would keep Angus from wanting to push the envelope.

Involuntarily, I turned my head to look at the boy again as he trailed us to the admissions booth. He was over six feet tall and had dark-brown, almost-black hair. There was something in how he carried himself—a type of confidence that made him immediately eye-catching. Confidence meets I-don’t-give-a-shit meets calm. Standing right behind me in the long line waiting to pay, he was acutely aware of us. I could feel it. I wondered if I was making it up, but I thought his attention was wholly directed toward me.

So softly that it was impossible for anyone else to hear, Liv said, “He smells good,” referring to our usual revulsion at the scent of outsiders. I knew who she was talking about. I’d noticed it too.

“It’s probably his sunscreen,” I said.

I glanced over my shoulder and saw him deftly juggle his things from one arm to the other in order to take his phone from his pocket. The glass face of the phone had a long crack in it, and a picture of Johnny Cash on the lock screen. He checked it quickly before putting the phone back in his pocket, vaguely annoyed. He wasn’t just looking at the time. I could tell he was waiting for a call or text that hadn’t come. I felt him bring his focus back to me. I didn’t know why he made me feel so self-aware when usually I was a master at blocking people out. At least watching him was distracting me from the nearby crowd.

Once Liv and I paid at the booth and walked through the entrance, it was like stepping into a different world smack in the middle of the city. Shaded by pecan trees and dotted with towels and chairs, the lawn sloped steeply down to the sunlit water. The din of the shouting swimmers and intermittent spring of the diving board carried up the hill. The bathhouse was on the opposite side of the water, that lawn already filling with a different kind of group—mostly people with kids.