fifteen

BRONXVILLE, NEW YORK

2010

“You have to tell him,” Sailor whispered, using her elbow to nudge Emily into Chaz. Emily tripped sideways, her left foot catching on the boardwalk. Chaz grabbed her arm to steady her. She might be mad at Sailor for tripping her, but it was worth it to have Chaz touch her arm.

“What’d you say?” He turned around to walk backward and face Sailor. “Tell me what?”

“Nothing.” Sailor gave him a little push, but he skipped and kept pace with them.

“Liar,” he said, stopping so that Emily and Sailor had to walk around him or stop also.

The beach boardwalk was overcrowded, full of teenagers on the first warm weekend. The air had the taste of summer at its edges. Watermelon. Ice cream. Sand in her lemonade. School wouldn’t be out for another month, but Emily was already inside the laziness of it all. Then Sailor had to go and ruin it all by bringing up the “mom” thing again.

Sometimes, no, a lot of times, it seemed like Sailor was more obsessed than Emily with finding the birth mom. Emily held up her hand. “It’s nothing. I want to stop and get cotton candy.”

Chaz ran his left hand through his wind-snarled hair, caught it and then let go. “Really? Like that’s some big thing to tell me?”

Sailor made a noise that was halfway between a huff and a laugh, her way of telling Chaz that Emily was bluffing. Emily walked around Chaz and shot her best friend a look that she hoped said “shut up.”

They reached the steps to the beach. To Emily, the haze of sunshine made the towels and blankets that were spread across the sand look like jellybeans. “Let’s go,” she said. “You two are being annoying.”

“Annoying?” Chaz asked, laughing. He jumped off the boardwalk, over the steps and into the sand, his weight denting the surface. He pulled off his T-shirt and held it in his hand. “Me, annoying?”

“Absolutely,” Sailor said. She stepped carefully onto the sand, crouching down so she wouldn’t slip from wood to beach.

Emily looked down at both of them, only a step below her. “You’re not annoying,” she said, a quietness winding into her voice.

Sailor threw her arms in the air. “First one in the water wins,” she hollered.

“Wins what?” Emily asked. She jumped to join them, and the beach bag bounced off her hip.

“Doesn’t win anything. Just wins,” Sailor said.

“You can win then. The water is freezing. No way I’m going in,” Emily said.

Someone, a girl from the left, called Chaz’s name and he answered, walking away. The voice belonged to Sissy, who was wearing her too-small yellow bikini. Sailor shrugged as if to say, well, there he goes.

Emily shook her head. “Sissy wins and she didn’t even have to jump in the water,” Emily said, smiling.

Sailor’s laughter seemed to be part of the surf sounds beating against the shoreline, and then Emily and Sailor ran toward the water. They set their towels next to each other and then began the process of lathering sunblock on their winter-white skin.

“You should tell him, you know.” Sailor handed Emily the lotion.

“Why? It really doesn’t matter.”

“Have you heard back yet?”

Emily shook her head. The hope-thing inside her sank again, a quick drop inside her chest. “I guess I shouldn’t have even friended her. I mean, she gave me away so why would she want to hear from me? It was stupid. I shouldn’t have done it.” Emily sat on the towel and stared out to that place where water and sky met and turned into one shadowy blue line. “If I got rid of something I didn’t want, I wouldn’t want that something to show up again.”

“You’re not a something, Emily.” Sailor’s voice was kinder than usual. The mystery-solving voice turning soft. “You’re a somebody.”

“Yeah, but maybe to her I was a something.” Emily shrugged. “I just wanted to see what she looked like. And now I know.”

“She’s pretty,” Sailor said, sitting down and facing Emily. “But of course she is because you are.”

“Now you’re only trying to be nice because you feel sorry for me,” Emily said, but smiled.

Sailor shook her head, her brown curls moving like smoke around her face. “I don’t feel sorry for you. I know I’m annoying about it. I’ll stop. I wish I had other parents.…”

Emily wanted to have something smart to say, something that would make Sailor feel better, but she couldn’t. If she had Sailor’s parents, she’d be looking for new ones too. But Emily loved her parents; she didn’t want new ones.

So then why did she feel so terrible and empty just because the Kate woman hadn’t answered her friend request?

Kate’s sister, Tara, had accepted her friendship. Did she know? Did the sister know who Emily was? Emily imagined them talking about her, wondering why she was bugging them. Sailor and Emily had spent an entire Sunday afternoon going through Tara’s page, looking at photos and identifying people. Cousins. Uncle. Grandparents. But really none more important than the only one they wanted to identify: birth mom.

They’d zoomed in on Kate’s hair, curly and copper like Emily’s. They commented on Kate’s great clothes, and how Emily must have her birth dad’s chin because Kate didn’t have a cleft. Sailor said that Emily’s smile was an exact copy of Kate’s, like the kind from the dentist when you got your retainer.

But as much as the friends talked—and talked and talked and talked—Emily kept a great many thoughts to herself. She wondered, as she had always wondered, where she came from and why? Why did her stomach flip upside down when she was sad? Why did pollen make her sneeze? Why did her nose turn up on the very end?

And the biggest wonder, a wonder so big that it was a universe: Why did her birth mother give her away?

Emily sat forward, curling her arms around her bent legs. She rested her head on her knees and turned to look at Sailor. “Let’s not talk about it anymore. Okay?”

Sailor nodded. “Okay, if that’s what you want.”

“That’s what I want,” Emily said.