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I could do it. I could do anything.
I felt a core of strength forming inside me and knew that tapping into it would mean achieving whatever I wanted.
All thanks to Aralt.
So…why were we trying to stop him?
* * *
Dad and Kasey were watching TV when we got home. Dad paused it and turned to me expectantly.
Mom took over. “How does it feel to be related to the most fabulous sixteen-year-old in Surrey?” she asked. Then, realizing she should tone it down in the interest of sibling equality, she lowered her voice. “Alexis did very well.”
“Wonderful, honey!” Dad said, beaming. “Come tell us about it.”
As I rounded the sofa, Kasey jumped up. “I have some homework to do.”
Mom watched her go, then turned to me with an apologetic frown. “I guess this might be a little hard for her.”
“Yeah,” I said, staring disapprovingly down the hall. It was totally un-sunshiny to be jealous and petty.
I tried to perk up and give my parents a good rundown of the night. When I was done, I stifled a huge yawn and excused myself.
Kasey was in the bathroom brushing her teeth. I waited until she’d rinsed her toothbrush before giving her a nudge.
“Want to hear about the party?”
She shrugged.
The gesture stung more than I would have thought. As she passed me on the way to her bedroom, I spoke to her back—keeping my voice low so our parents wouldn’t hear.
“Aren’t you happy for me?”
“Sure, Lexi. Why not,” said Kasey.
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
She came closer. “But how much of this is really you, and how much of it is Aralt?”
“Why does that matter?” I asked. “I still made the effort.”
She gave me a flat frown.
“You know what? Fine. Don’t be happy for me. But if you don’t mind my saying so, you could stand to be a little su
She rolled her eyes. “And you could stand to be a little less su
I felt a swell of emotion so powerful that it made me turn away. It was like the moment a thundercloud opens up and soaks anything unlucky enough to be caught under it—only this storm was a hurricane of rage. I stared at the family portrait that hung across from Kasey’s bedroom door, trying to will myself not to turn around.
Then I surged toward my own room and slammed the door behind me, locking it.
I believed with all my heart that if I even looked at my sister, I might break her neck.
“ALEXIS? MEGAN’S ON THE PHONE.” Mom opened my door a crack and peered around. “Goodness, I think this is the messiest your room’s ever been.”
I scowled. It was Sunday, and I hadn’t so much as tidied up since Monday. The bed was unmade, and a week’s worth of clothing changes were draped on various surfaces, from the desk to the edge of the trash can. Shoes were scattered like abandoned cars after the zombie apocalypse.
“I’ve been busy,” I said. I grabbed the phone and waved her out.
“What’s up?” Megan asked. “We’re hanging out at Monika’s today.”
“Who?”
“Everybody,” she said. “Can you be ready in ten minutes?”
“Sure.” After my week, a day of doing nothing sounded wonderful.
“We’ll park,” she said. “Come out when you’re done.”
I took a quick shower, braided my wet hair, slapped on some makeup, and slipped on a summery skirt with a sleeveless top and a pair of sandals. I had a vague recollection that Monika had a pool, so I emptied a tote bag on the foot of my bed and stuffed a bathing suit and a towel inside it. At the last second, I grabbed my camera.
I was about to leave when a splash of color caught my eye.
I walked to the window and peered through the slats of the wooden blinds.
Megan’s car was parked across the street, and she and the girls she’d brought with her—Mimi and Emily—were leaning against it, faces to the sky, absorbing the sunshine.
There was something about them—some unquestioned sense of entitlement, the right to sun oneself wherever one chose. They were like a pack of lions lounging on the Serengeti Plain. These were the girls who would grow up to be senators, or movie stars, or best-selling novelists. They were beautiful and effortlessly powerful.
And I was one of them.
When I came outside, Megan tilted her sunglasses down her nose to look at me. “Ready?”
“Yeah,” I said.
“Where’s Kasey?” Emily asked.
“I’m not sure,” I said. “Studying?”
“Studying?” Emily repeated. “Why? Doesn’t she trust Aralt?”
“Of course she does,” I said, but even as I said it, I began to wonder if it was true.
Monika lived in the older section of town—mostly rambling ranch houses on half-acre lots. In the tree-shaded backyard, a pool surrounded by lounge chairs reflected the aqua sky.
Everyone else scattered to change into their swimsuits, but I stood and let my toes dig into the grass. A shadow fell on the ground beside me.
“What’s wrong?” Megan asked.
“I miss having a yard,” I said.
“You can always come use mine,” Megan said. “You haven’t been over lately.”
“I know,” I said. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. We’re all busy.” She sighed. “How’s Carter?”
“I’m not sure. I haven’t talked to him since Friday.”
“You need to be careful.” She turned to me. “Lex, if he’s not willing to accept you the way you are, he doesn’t deserve you in the first place.”
For some reason, that made me think of Jared, who found the idea of Old Alexis and New Alexis interesting, not aggravating.
“I know he doesn’t like the Sunshine Club,” Megan said quietly. “He doesn’t talk about us with respect.”
I looked up, surprised at the undercurrent of heat in her voice, like a small, slow-burning flame. “It’s not that,” I said. “I think he’s really stressed out about the election.”
Her voice was cold. “If he thinks it’s going to be less stressful after he wins, he’s deluded.”
“Look,” I said. “I’ll deal with it.”
“This sisterhood isn’t a joke,” she said. “And you shouldn’t let Carter treat us like one.”
I was frustrated by the onslaught, when she knew I hadn’t even seen him since Friday. “I don’t want to talk about it, okay?”
Megan looked at me in surprise. She scowled, kicked her shoes off, and plopped to the ground at the edge of the pool, dunking her legs in the water like a debutante who’d wandered away from a fancy party to pout. Schlumpy but regal.
“Hang on,” I said, reaching into my camera bag.
“Oh, come on, Lex,” she said. “I’m so not in the mood.”
“Please?” I said. “I need four new pictures by next week. Can you take off your sunglasses?”
“Whatever,” she muttered, slipping them off and tossing her hair over her shoulder.
I clicked off a couple of shots.
“Chin down a little,” I said.
Megan shot me a dirty look through the camera.
“Don’t be mad at me,” I said, and then, almost as a joke: “Aralt wouldn’t want that.”
Instantly, her expression changed.
Her eyes went from petulant to misty—her lips relaxed, her cheekbones lifted.
These pictures were going to be pretty—really pretty. Never mind that I had no idea what to do with a pretty picture. “You look gorgeous,” I said.
“I know.” Her voice was dreamy.
We lay around all afternoon like a bunch of Roman empresses, trading magazines and compliments.
“Alexis, I saw your picture in the newspaper,” Lydia said. “Maybe you should invite Bailey Templeton to a meeting.”
“She doesn’t need Aralt,” I said. “She has a billion-dollar trust fund.”
It was like I’d pressed the “awkward silence” button. Scandalized looks greeted me from every angle.
Aralt was about more than money. I knew that. “If I see her again, I’ll invite her.”
Later, we went inside to bask in the air-conditioning. Tashi sat on the floor, painting her nails on a giant Oriental rug, not using a paper towel or anything.