Select (Select #1)(8)
It was around noon and not crazy-crowded yet. It was ridiculously hot already. As Liv and I stood at the top of the grassy hill, deciding where to sit, I realized everyone in the vicinity was looking in the same direction.
The Lost Kids were here. It was like a haze of gold surrounded them—partially because of their coloring, but also because they were half in the sunlight and half in the dappled shade beneath the trees. It was jarring to see them together in public like this. With their almost identically colored hair that nearly matched their skin tone, the seven boys looked like an otherworldly grouping of models posed as gorgeous young skate rats. They were all very tall and skinny, reminding me of the ectomorph cross-country runners I’d see running in packs, except that my friends’ chests and backs were covered in tattoos. The boys acted like they were in their own private world, but it was far too obvious who they were.
Usually we were so careful to go out alone or in small groups so the public would see just one or two people with tan skin and perfect features. I could feel everyone around us begin to realize who the girl next to me was. And now they were looking at me too, wondering how I could be with her when I didn’t match.
People were using their phones to take pictures and to text, presumably about the sighting. Angus and the boys stood on the slope, shoving one another, blatantly oblivious to the stares and the space they were taking up.
Liv, thankfully, didn’t walk over to the Lost Kids. She was too wary. Then I saw Liv’s friends on a different section of the lawn—another group of seven teens, looking like royals trying to relax at a public pool. They waved her over, but Liv breezed down to the central part of the wet, green hill, putting us squarely between the A-group and the Lost Kids. No way would I have come if I’d known there would be this many of us in public. This wasn’t allowed.
“Did you invite George?” I asked.
“No. I told Emma I was coming. I can’t believe they’re here.”
“He’s trying to protect you. I heard you’re dating him.”
Liv laughed a whatever laugh.
“This is making me nervous,” I stated flatly. “All of us shouldn’t be here.”
I shook out the turquoise hand-woven cotton blanket that had no business being on the ground and Liv sat down, lounging back on her elbows. I sank down next to her, wanting to get out of the crowd’s line of vision.
Angus was watching us. I could sense his smirk from fifty feet away. Shirtless, with shorts falling low on his hips, he had no body fat, just a lot of lean, defined muscle. He turned and I saw the telltale wing tattoo that spanned his entire back. I forgot what meaning it had at the time—freedom, I guess—but it reminded me of a fallen angel. And he definitely looked like an angel gone bad, with his curls and that fierce gaze in his icy blue eyes. Actually, he looked a lot like my dad.
“You can go sit with them if you want,” I said to Liv, gesturing with my chin to her friends. The schism between the two groups of kids—the haves and the have-nots—was stark. Novak’s decision to form two groups had been disastrous for our friendships. It was too painful for us Lost Kids to be around the others, knowing they had to keep secrets from us. And they were scared off by our derision, which was mostly fueled by our jealousy.
But Liv was looking at Angus as she said, “No, they can come to us.” I couldn’t believe she actually thought I was telling her to go to my friends. She’s young, I kept reminding myself, making excuses for her self-centeredness.
Sweat trickled down my back. I had a metallic feeling in the back of my throat—I was beginning to recognize this as one of the signs that the rash was coming on. I needed to leave. I didn’t want to be the one blamed for bringing my sister here. There was bad energy in the air. The boys continued to draw attention to themselves, doing neat backflips they shouldn’t all have been able to manage.
If I had been smart, I would have stood up right then and driven home. Unfortunately a much bigger part of me wanted to stay, in order to stand in the way of whatever might have been happening between Liv and Angus.
Angus lit a cigarette, and I immediately looked over at the nearest lifeguard. I saw the lifeguard quickly look away, pretending not to see the infraction. He didn’t want to approach. It felt like everyone in the park was holding their breath—partially out of wonder and partially from tension. I knew that in their minds it wasn’t clear what our group might do next.
Liv angled her body to look behind us. Craning her neck, she stared at something. “What?” I asked, and turned around.
I had been so busy freaking out at the heat and the noise and the spectacle that I hadn’t noticed where the boy from the parking lot had landed. He’d spread out his beach towel just behind us, but he was ignoring us completely. The only personal items around him were a bottle of smartwater, a phone, and a paperback book. He had the aura of someone who wanted to be alone. I was wondering if he was about my age—seventeen or eighteen—when he obliged me by removing his hat and sunglasses, and I could see my guess had to be close. Then, almost violently, he whipped his shirt off over his head. Balling it up, he stuck it behind him where he could use it as a pillow, grabbed his hat and sunglasses, putting them back on before he lay down on his towel, and reached for his book. Not even a glance our way, though I’m sure he could tell we were both openly staring. Now that he had his shirt off, I looked a second longer than I should have.