chapter five

then…

For our seventeenth birthday, Jem wanted to go fishing, and he said it like fishing was some sort of a surprise.

“You mean like we did for our twelfth birthday?” I asked.

Jem glared at me.

I stroked our Labrador’s knobby black head and pretended I was thinking super hard. “You mean, fishing like we did on our thirteenth?”

“And your fifteenth?” Ander added, smiling into his second cup of coffee. He’d stayed the night again, crashing on the couch that always smelled like our dog no matter how many times we tried to clean it. Last night made the third time Ander had stayed over this week, and I kept expecting my parents to say something, but they didn’t, and I kept expecting Jem to ask, but he didn’t. Maybe it was because we already knew? Something bad was going on at home, except Ander never said a word.

He just showed up with old movies to watch (like he always did) and we opened the back door (like we always did) and the evening bumped on. Last night, we’d watched old horror movies until the moon set below the trees. Ander had made fun of the terrible special effects. I had maintained that the terrible special effects were the best part. Jem fell asleep somewhere around midnight, and that was typical. My brother could pass out anywhere. Ander and I never could. We were crappy at sleeping, so we stayed up.

Jem yawned, stretching his arms behind him until his spine popped. “Fishing,” he repeated, and our dog, Visa, whined. “I want to go today, and I want you to come. You haven’t been out of the house in days. People are going to wonder if we buried you in the basement.”

“We don’t have a basement,” I said, and people weren’t going to wonder. Jem was the Outgoing One, the Funny One, and frequently the Manwhore. I was the Quiet One. Always. Only.

We were twins—fraternal, of course—but so close in resemblance you could easily see Jem’s sharp chin in mine, my dark brown eyes suspended in his face. It made people think we were the same in everything.

I shrugged. “Fine, birthday boy. We’re going fishing.”

“Really?” Jem tilted his chair backward, one hand pinned to the table because we both remembered the time I flipped him. “It’s going to be that easy? You’re not going to give me some speech about how you have to read ahead for school?”

“Probably because she’s already finished the summer reading list,” Ander said, eyes still on his coffee.

Jem tipped his chair back to the floor. “You’re going to grow up to be a shut-in, Grace.”

“Not before you catch an STD.”

Jem glared at me, and I slurped my remaining cereal because I knew it would annoy him. The puffs were soggy, splintering apart in my mouth. Visa whined again. He had been hoping I would share. “Staring me down doesn’t work,” I told my brother—and my dog.

Jem scowled. Ander smirked. He found it funny when I stood up to Jem but never said anything about it—although that could have been my fault. Lately every time Ander looked at me, I found an excuse to look away. Stupid, really, because I would still feel his eyes on me. They trailed something very close to heat across my collarbone, my shoulders, my jaw.

It was one thing to laugh about fake blood under the television’s glow, but lately…when we were sitting in the sunshine…I was beginning to feel stupid.

And awkward.

And furious because I always felt stupid and awkward. I had just never felt stupid and awkward around him.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

…

We took Ander’s boat to our favorite fishing inlet—Jem’s favorite because of the overhanging trees and shade, Ander’s favorite because it was the farthest away, my favorite because of the quiet. No one was ever around.

Ander picked up speed once the river widened. He slouched low against the metal seat, and next to him, Jem slouched lower, his feet propped on the cooler, a beer already in his hand. As usual, I sat up front. I liked the wind, the spray. About twenty minutes after the river widened, it narrowed again, the trees and vegetation pressing in closer. Everything smelled like water and heat and wet ground. It was way hot, too bright, and absolutely perfect.

Then I realized it wasn’t perfect at all—not anymore—because we rounded the river bend and I saw the other boat.

It was maybe fifty feet ahead of us—a small dinghy, not much bigger than ours. A guy was studying the motor as two girls sunbathed near the prow. As we drew closer, their heads turned in unison, watching us.

Ander cut our engine, and we drifted under the shadow of a knobby cypress, scraping over an underwater log. Even in the shade, the air was warm and steamy.

Ander focused on gathering the fishing rods. Jem and I focused on the others. I’d never seen the guy before. He had the kind of face that belonged to vampires on television—all sharp cheekbones and almost too-full lips and eyes that were searching anywhere and everywhere but here. The blonde wasn’t familiar, either. I’d had chemistry with the brunette, though. What was her name? Amanda?

My stomach squeezed. Summers were my time to get away from everyone. I didn’t have to be Jem’s Twin. I didn’t have to be the Quiet Girl. I didn’t have to smile and smile until my cheeks hurt. I was supposed to have another five weeks.

Amanda stood and eased to the back of the boat. The dark-haired guy was doing something with the outboard motor—or rather, he was trying to do something with the outboard motor. Nothing was actually happening. Amanda gestured at the blonde, and she rose slowly to her feet. Now all three of them were studying the motor, and still nothing was happening.

“You think their engine died?” Jem’s eyes stuck to the girls.

I kicked off one sandal and then the other. He was going over there. I could see it in the lines of his shoulders, in how his spine had straightened.

People never made Jem anxious. For a heartbeat, I hated him.

He pivoted, grinning. “Anyone up for a swim?”

He jumped overboard before I could answer, landing in a huge crash that sloshed water everywhere. I held on as the boat tilted and Jem surfaced a few yards away, tossing wet hair from his eyes.

“C’mon!” he yelled. “It’s not bad after you freeze your balls off.”

“No.”

“Please? It’s my birthday!”

I laughed. “No!”

Jem grinned again and began to backstroke away from us. Across the inlet, the guy ignored us, but the girls faced Jem, shielding their eyes against the sun with their hands.

“Ten bucks says he comes away with both their phone numbers,” Ander said. His smile turned the words to butter, made the vowels slide.

“Ha!” I flipped around, stretching out on Jem’s seat and tilting my face toward the sun. It turned the darkness behind my eyelids a hazy pink. “I don’t take bets I would lose.”

Ander’s laugh was a hard puff, and it made me smile. I trailed my hand in the cold water and listened to the girls squeal. They sounded thrilled with Jem. Per usual.

School would begin in a few weeks. Odds were really good he would probably date both girls (and dump them) before we started class.

“You’re going to lose your fingers to the snapping turtles,” Ander said. He was closer now. I hadn’t even felt him move.

I smiled wider. “You always say that.”

I plunged my hand in deeper, up to the bend in my elbow where sweat had begun to slide. Across the pond, the girls laughed and the boy stayed quiet and Jem shouted…something. Was he trying to get us to come over?

I sat up, lifting my sunglasses again. Jem and the girls had abandoned the engine and were flopping around in the water now. The waves lapped our boat.

“C’mon!” Jem called, and there was something hard simmering underneath. He was aggravated. I was supposed to play along and I wasn’t.

“You don’t have to go,” Ander said. He wouldn’t look at me. He opened a beer, and for the first time, I noticed the two empty cans already at his feet.

“I know.” But I really wanted to say: Why do I always have to be Jem’s project?

“He’s trying to help,” Ander said.

I paused, ever so briefly wondering if I had asked why I was always Jem’s project. This was Ander, though, and he knew everything. I slumped lower, dipping my hand into the water again.

It’s my birthday, too. Only as soon as I thought it, I felt like maybe I was still six and Jem could still convince me to do anything.

“He thinks it’ll make you happy,” Ander added, and the whisper was so low I could’ve pretended I didn’t hear him.

“I know,” I said again, and I also knew I should let this go. “But I don’t think I can be the sister he wants.”

Then who will you be? The unspoken thought lingered in the silence between us. I turned onto my hip and Ander’s hand found mine under the water. I froze. He froze. As soon as Jem swam closer, Ander let go.