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To the left of the dock is a smaller sand cove where the grass and trees are pushed back, and you can walk into the water. Two girls sit there, feet in the sand, watching Ender and his friends, Kamila included. They smile and giggle and whisper to one another, pointing at everything the guys do.
“Is that his girlfriend?” I ask Arya, nodding to Kamila. A fleeting glance at her tells me she’s the most popular girl at her school and probably already had sex.
Arya gags. “No, at leasthe’llnever admit it. But once,” her voice drops as if she’s about to tell me a secret, “I caught them dry humping each other in the movie room. She was moaning.” Arya stifles and laugh in her hands. “So gross.”
I have no idea what dry humping is, but I act like I know by smiling. “Gross.” I rack my brain trying to think of what that might be. I’ve heard the words jack off, masturbate, sex… but never dry hump. Maybe it’s the same thing as humping. Which I think is sex. I also don’t want to ask. And none of the romance novels I’m allowed to read have the good stuff in them. They all fade to black.
Most of the boys are huddled around a boat, white with a black stripe down the side. “That’s our uncle Wiley,” Arya tells me, opening her second Pepsi of the afternoon. “He’s forty. Mom says he’s goin’ through a midlife crisis and acts sixteen.”
I watch the boys, each of them climbing onto the boat one by one as Wiley assists with two other older guys. They hand the boys beer and take off on the lake. “Did he give them beer?”
Arya shrugs. “Probably. He does shit like that all the time.”
“And they drink them?”
“Who knows.”
When the boat comes back, Roman is on a wakeboard, catching Arya’s attention.
“How old is Roman?” I ask.
“Fifteen. He’ll be sixteen this winter. He’s a sophomore this year.” Her voice brightens with each word. “And he’s the pitcher for the baseball team at school. I go to every game. That other kid is our cousin Walker. Uncle Wiley’s his dad.” She rolls her eyes. “There’s no hope for him to turn out normal.”
I laugh, thinking that’s probably true. I think there’s no hope for any of my sisters.
Music from the boat echoes off the water as the waves slap the dock, rocking us back and forth. The boat stops, and the boys jump in the water again as Roman swims back with the board. As they barrel back onto the dock, they smile at us and sit down near the water, my sisters Becca and Harper included. I’m not watching those boys though. I’m focused on Ender. He’s still on the boat but jumps in the water and then swims to the other side of the boat, talking to Wiley as he wades around. I find him incredibly fascinating and I don’t know why.
“Do you really have four sisters?” Arya asks, watching Becca with a puzzled expression.
I nod and dig my toes into the grass.
“Are they bitches?”
“Yep.”
She points to Becca. “How old is she?”
“She’s seventeen. I’m the youngest.”
“I have two older brothers and one younger.”
“How old are they?”
“Well, Ender…” She frowns, like she hates him. “He’s fifteen, like I said. He’ll be sixteen in October. Greer, he’s eighteen and left this winter for the military. Then there’s Myles. He’s nine, almost ten.”
Becca stands and wades waist deep into the water, more than likely attempting to gain some attention in her bikini. Smart as ever, but an attention whore, nonetheless. Her body is rail thin and tan, a product of her never eating and a sunless tanner. She thinks if she never eats, she’ll stay skinny. Our mom is overweight and told us girls it’s in our genes to gain weight. Becca, having been slightly heavier when she was younger, fears being overweight again and stops eating. It’s not healthy, but no one can tell her that. I personally think a woman with a little more weight on her looks good—healthy and happy. And hello, carbs are life.
A splash of water in our direction catches my attention. Ender’s swimming back, staring at me with a strange smile. Adjusting my towel, I look away from him and over to Arya. I notice she has a few freckles across her nose and a scar on the bridge of her nose. Her and Ender look very similar to one another.
Aside from the last name and a couple of facial features, the similarities are few between us Hayes sisters. I wonder if it’s the same in the James family. I’m curious what Greer looks like and figure the younger boy following Ender now must be Myles.
If you were to look at Becca and me, she’s a ray of fucking sunshine, superficial, but cheery, and I’m the storm cloud. I’ve gone the opposite direction in everything. Always have. Our appearances are different too. While we resemble each other with the shape of our faces and structure, I’m different from them. They all have wavy dark hair, aside from Harper who keeps bleaching hers with peroxide, and brown eyes. Then there’s me with my lighter skin, lighter hair—golden at first sight, but richer with some red mixed in—and green eyes. Everyone thinks I’m adopted.
Ender comes out of the water and stands in front of me, water dripping from him and onto my stomach. “Are you going to swim or sit in the grass all night?”
“Go away.” Arya groans, takes a handful of grass she’s picked, and throws it at him. “She doesn’t like you.”
“She likes me enough.” He doesn’t make eye contact with his sister. Nope. He’s staring at my chest again. “Come on, get wet, Hads.”