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T
HE SUN WAS HIGH IN THE SKY
by the time we drove into Amerige. I asked my dad to take me to Lexie's right away because I couldn't stand to go another minute without talking to her. Also, I wasn't quite ready to see my house with a sign out front.

The Larstroms' house was white stucco with a red-tile roof and all kinds of arches and curves that cast interesting shadows. It seemed to have gotten bigger in the time I'd been gone. Had it been only a week and a half? I felt like a completely different person. I needed Lexie to make me feel like myself again.

My dad waited in the car while I went up to the house.

“Goodness, Madison—your hair!” Mrs. Larstrom said, standing in the towering doorway. “I almost didn't recognize you.”

“Yeah, it's, um—it was kind of a mistake. Is Lexie here?”

“You just missed Alexis; she's at Melissa's.” She touched my arm lightly, her forehead crinkled in concern. “You know Melissa? From the newspaper?”

“Sure, I know Melissa,” I told Mrs. Larstrom. My body felt all
hot-and-cold. Outside, the air hung heavy and still, while beyond the doorway, the Larstroms' air-conditioning blew full force.

“There were a few kids going over there to swim,” Mrs. Larstrom said, touching my arm again. “I'm sure they'd love to see you. Come on in—I'll write down the address.”

I mouthed “one minute” to my father and followed Mrs. Larstrom inside. Her footsteps echoed on the marble flooring as I waited in the foyer, the two-story ceiling towering above me, the air-conditioning chilling my veneer of sweat.

It took her a while to come back because the house was so huge. (She'd hardly even notice if I moved in.)

“Here it is,” she said, clicking across the marble, holding out a slip of paper, and touching my shoulder. I don't think she'd touched me this much in all the years I'd known her.

She tilted her head to one side. “How are you doing?”

I shrugged. “Okay.”

“And your parents?”

“They're good. My dad's in the car.”

She nodded. “And your mom?”

“She's at the summer house.” It just slipped out.
The summer house:
like we were on a splashy vacation—like we could afford one house, much less two. “She loves the beach,” I added.

“Well, Madison, I hope you know that you're always welcome to stay with us. A weekend, a week—as long as you want to visit.”

I smiled, quivering with relief. “Thanks. I'll remember that.”

 

Melissa's house, less than a mile away, was almost as big as Lexie's but not nearly as pretty. It was tall and boxy, the brick around the front door too new and too red. The pool was just a normal
concrete pool, no boulders or anything, but there was an aboveground hot tub under a thatched roof, like a tiki hut.

The hot tub was so crammed with bodies that I didn't see Lexie at first. Already I was feeling shy and like maybe I shouldn't have told my father to leave.

“Madeleine, was it?” Melissa's mother, Mrs. Raffman, asked me. She was wearing shorts and a tank top that exposed tanned, squishy arms.

“Madison.”

“Right.” Like Melissa, she had dark, curly hair—though hers was cut short—brown eyes and olive skin. Her mouth smiled but her eyes didn't. She didn't look mean or anything, just tired.

“Melissa, you have another friend here,” she called across the yard. Squeals and laughter spilled from the hot tub.

Melissa, in a yellow bikini, appeared from under the tiki hut. She grabbed a towel and padded over the concrete, squinting in the sunlight.

She stopped short when she saw me.
“Madison?”
She held her hand over her eyes to block the sun but continued to squint; normally she wore heavy black eyeglasses.

“Hey,” I said. Her mother slipped back into the house.

“I thought,” Melissa began. “I heard…”

Across the yard, shady faces peered from under the thatched roof. The squealing stopped.

Melissa said, “You changed your hair.”

I touched my head. My black locks were pulled back in a ponytail to minimize the effect. “Yeah, thought I'd try something different. Anyway, I just thought I'd stop by,” I said. “Hope it's okay.”

“Of
course
it's okay!” Melissa took my arm and pulled me across the concrete. “It's so great to
see
you!”

Celia's face was the first one I recognized. “I thought you moved,” she blurted. She was sitting on the edge of the tub, bent over to avoid hitting the roof. She gave me a quick once-over. Suddenly, I wished I had gone to my own house before coming here, if only so I could have changed into something other than the purple shirt and cutoff shorts.

“Madison!” Lexie splashed out of the tub and clamored across the concrete. She was wearing a bright blue bikini top with brown board shorts. My own new bathing suit was in my beach bag. I'd thought about changing before coming over here, but that seemed too pushy, like I was inviting myself to Melissa's pool party instead of just casually stopping by.

Lexie barely even looked at me, just wrapped her skinny arms around me and held me tight—which would have been sweet if she weren't soaking wet or if I'd been in a swimsuit. She said, “Oh, my God! Oh, my God!” in a voice that sounded slightly hysterical. I'd been missing her like crazy, but right now she was kind of embarrassing me.

When she finally let go, there was a wet stain all up my front. I crossed my arms, but it didn't do much good.

“I went to your house; your mom said you were here,” I told Lexie, as if this were just a normal summer day. I looked at Melissa. “I hope it's okay,” I said for the second time.

“I'm glad you're here,” Melissa said. “This was just a last-minute thing, you know—to give the new staff an opportunity to get to know each other better.”

I looked at the hot tub and forced a smile at the faces peering
back at me. I knew some people. Rolf was there, submerged up to his chest, his bright white arms spread-eagled around the edge of the tub. He wasn't anywhere near Celia. His blue eyes cut into me, a tentative smile on his lips. I flushed with shame—at my hair, at my clothes, at Lexie's outburst.

I had a sudden urge to pull Lexie aside and ask her what else Rolf had said about me since her last e-mail. I'd been so pissed off during the whole Celia thing, but now, looking at him—a smart, cute, normal guy—getting back together seemed less like an opportunity for revenge and more like a chance for forgiveness. We all make mistakes, after all.

“How long are you here?” Lexie asked. “Does this mean you're not moving?”

“It's kind of open-ended,” I said, remembering Mrs. Larstrom's words:
as long as you want to stay.

“I wish you'd told me you were coming,” Lexie said.

“It was kind of last-minute.” Wasn't she happy to see me? And then I realized: she wouldn't have bothered with this pool party thing if she'd known she could spend the day with me.

“You want something to drink?” Melissa asked. “We've got bottled cappuccinos, plus there's some smoothie left in the blender.”

“Um, no thanks.”

Celia hauled herself out of the hot tub and clomped across the concrete on her big duck feet. I still couldn't believe that Rolf had dumped me for her. She wasn't even pretty. The water had slicked her hair back from her face. Her forehead looked very high and eggheady.

“So, what does this mean?” Celia said, hands on hips.

I squinted at her, confused. “Um, I'm not that thirsty.”

“No,” she snapped. “What does it mean that you're back? Melissa?”

Melissa cleared her throat and looked at the ground. Drops of chlorinated water dripped off her curls. “Wow. This is awkward.”

“What?” I asked.

“Everyone said you'd moved.” She looked at me before dropping her eyes back to the ground. “And then Celia called a couple of days ago and asked if we still needed a photographer for the paper. She'd been the runner-up, and so I just, um…”

“But I told you I was staying!” I said. “In that e-mail!”

“I know, but my parents know some people who know your parents. And they said—and obviously it was just a rumor—that your dad's business went bankrupt and you lost everything and that there was no way you could afford to stay in town. And so I sent you another e-mail, just to make sure you were coming back, but you didn't answer it, and your cell phone had been cut off, and…” She looked up, desperate. “Are you sure you don't want a cappuccino?”

I nodded.

“Did you bring your suit?” Melissa asked, changing the subject. “Do you want to come in the hot tub? The pool's pretty cold.”

I did a yes-no, nod-shake: I'd brought my suit, but I didn't want to go in the tub. “Thanks, but I've got some things to do at my house.” Could I even call it “my house” anymore?

“Oh,” Melissa said. “Sure.” Celia retreated to the hot tub, claiming a spot far from Rolf.

“Can I use your phone?” I asked Melissa, suddenly desperate to flee. I was about to say that I'd forgotten my cell, but then I
remembered: they all knew I no longer had one.

“Why don't you walk home with me?” Lexie said, touching my arm just as her mother had done. “You can call from there.”

I nodded, too afraid I'd cry if I tried to say anything.

“We can work something out,” Melissa said. “Like, maybe Celia takes the sports photos and you take the candids. Or something.”

I nodded again.

My camera was in my bag, but I didn't take it out. There was nothing about this moment that I wanted to preserve.

 

Lexie's house wasn't far. Our flip-flops sounded like fat raindrops slapping against the tree-shaded pavement.

“I thought you were gone,” Lexie said in a quiet voice. “I mean, like, forever.” Now that her blond hair had begun to dry in the late-morning heat, I could see that she'd gotten it cut—straight and blunt, just below her shoulders. We were no longer twins.

“Why would you think that?” I asked, annoyed. I'd been away for less than two weeks. Some people left town for the entire summer, and it was no big deal.

“Because your house has a big sign out front, and you never even told me you were moving.” She glanced at me and then quickly looked away. “I tried calling, but your phone's been disconnected.”

“I'll get a new cell,” I said. “Eventually.” And I would, too. Cell phones weren't that expensive. Everyone I knew had one—okay, everyone except Leo and Delilah and Duncan. But they didn't count.

“No, I mean your real phone—your home phone. I called it
and got this recording. ‘The number you are trying to reach has been disconnected.' And I got a couple of e-mails from you and then—nothing.” Why did she have that tone in her voice? It sounded like she was accusing me of something.

“You make it sound like I died,” I said.

“You should have told me you were moving,” she said.

“I didn't know!” I stopped in front of a pretty blue house with a flowering tree out front. There was a gardener truck parked by the curb, a quiet man in a straw hat snipping at the hedges. A few years earlier my father had built an addition on the back of this house, enlarging the kitchen and creating a big family room with skylights. The kitchen had a brick pizza oven and a special freezer just for ice cream. My father talked about that freezer for months.

Lexie faced me. She looked sad or—something. I couldn't quite figure it out.

“My dad got some work at the beach,” I explained. “And they made it seem like it was just a vacation for my mom and me to come with—you know, to make up for the cruise. But then we got there and they started acting all weird, and they finally admitted that they'd lost the house, and—” My voice cracked. I swallowed hard to keep from crying.

“I know,” Lexie said. “My mom told me about your dad's business.”

“Your mom knows?”

“Everyone does.”

“Great.” I shut my eyes for a minute. When I opened them, I was still standing in front of a house I'd passed a hundred times, looking at the friend who'd seen me through a million problems.
But it was like I'd been dropped into an alternate universe. Neither the house nor Lexie seemed entirely real.

“We're poor,” I said. “My dad's digging holes for a living. My mom got a job at a grocery store. It's like a bad dream.” I regretted the words the instant I spoke them: saying them out loud made the whole thing real.

We were quiet for the rest of the walk. By the time we got to Lexie's, sweat was slithering down my neck and back. The air-conditioning in her house gave me the shakes. Her mother made a brief appearance—just long enough to tap my arm and squeeze my hand—and then we went up to Lexie's room. The upstairs hallway was quiet; the housekeeper was off today, and Brooke and Kenzie were at gymnastics camp.

I sprawled out on Lexie's fluffy bed, but she perched far away from me, on the swivel chair by her computer. “Is it nice there?” she asked. “At the beach?”

“It sucks,” I said to her ceiling.

“I'm sorry.”

“It's okay,” I said. “I'm not staying.”

“Where are you going?”

I sat up on the bed and looked around. Lexie's room was almost as big as the suite in Sandyland: plenty of room for two people. Of course, Lexie had never had to share a room; maybe she wouldn't like it. There was a tiny guest room down the hall. I didn't need a lot of space.

“I was thinking,” I began. “Your mom said…” My voice trailed off. Lexie stayed frozen in her chair. This visit wasn't going quite the way I'd expected it to. That whole stop at Melissa's had really thrown things off.

I grabbed a throw pillow and flopped back down on the bed. “I hate Celia,” I blurted, back in familiar territory.