The Last Summer of the Garrett Girls

  “Cool. I’ll have to sneak-watch it on my tablet.” Cece stares at the brick sidewalk, her brown skin flushing a little. “Abuela Julia is Catholic, so…I mean…we’re all Catholic, technically, but she’s really Catholic. She thinks marriage should only be between a man and a woman. If she saw me watching something with two girls kissing, she would probably turn it off and tell me it was a sin.”

  “Oh.” Vi’s face falls.

  “Yeah. I love her, but… Things were different when she was young, I guess.”

  Vi wants to point out that not everybody from their grandmothers’ generation is homophobic, but she doesn’t want to make Cece feel bad, like she has to defend her abuela. Vi doesn’t know what she’d do if Gram thought her crush on Cece was a sin. That being gay was a sin. That would be awful.

  “It’s okay if you want to borrow the book,” she says finally. “I’ve already read it. But I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

  “I can hide it. Mami doesn’t really care; she just doesn’t want to fight with Abuela,” Cece says. “Are you sure? I won’t cancel my order. I like having all my favorites so I can reread them.”

  Vi smiles. Something else they have in common. “Okay. No rush.”

  Cece shrugs. “I’m a fast reader. And I have the day off tomorrow. I don’t have any plans till the Penningtons’ party. Are you going? I could give it back to you there.”

  “I’ll be there,” Vi says, surprising herself. She’s never gone to one of Spencer’s parties. She doesn’t even like parties. They’re loud and crowded, and she has to make small talk, which is not one of her personal strengths. But if Cece’s going, she wants to go too. If it sucks, at least she’ll have a book to read.

  “Awesome.” Cece looks over her shoulder as a couple approaches the hostess stand. She leans down and pets Juno one more time. “I should get back, but…thank you so much for the book. See you tomorrow!”

  Vi waves awkwardly. “See you tomorrow.” She watches as Cece slides the book beneath a stack of menus.

  Her plan worked. She not only got to talk to Cece, she got Cece’s phone number, and now they have plans to see each other tomorrow at the farm party and to walk Juno and Athena. But Vi feels more concerned than victorious. She doesn’t want to assume anything or pressure Cece to label herself if she’s not ready for that. But it seems like maybe Cece is interested in girls and afraid that her family wouldn’t support her.

  If that’s true, Vi wants Cece to know that she’s a safe person to talk to. It seems like Cece could use a friend. And maybe—even if it doesn’t go any further—Vi could be that person.

  Vi would really like to be that person.

  Chapter Nine

  DES

  “You can’t wear that to the party! You look like a librarian,” Kat complains, eyeing Des’s ripped jeans, blue Le Petit Prince T-shirt, and navy Chucks.

  Des shrugs and runs her hand through her messy red curls. “So? Librarians are cool.”

  “No. Not like a cool, sexy librarian.” Kat looks at Des earnestly. “Don’t you want to dress up a little? Maybe you’ll meet somebody.”

  “Kat, I already know everybody who’ll be at the party,” Des says. Not that it matters. She doesn’t have any interest in dating. She never has. She thinks it’s just the way she’s wired. Till last fall, she always had Em, and that best friendship felt like enough. “I don’t have time for a relationship,” she adds, because that seems more likely to placate Kat than I don’t want a relationship.

  Kat smirks. “Who said anything about a relationship?”

  “Kat!” Des flushes. She doesn’t have any interest in a random hookup either.

  “Des!” Kat mimics. “You haven’t dated anyone since you and Jake Mitchell held hands. You peaked romantically in the fifth grade.”

  “Harsh,” Bea says, drifting into the bedroom she and Des share.

  “But true.” Kat fishes a tube of lipstick from her pocket and reapplies a perfect orange-red pout.

  “Des doesn’t need a relationship. She has work, and…everything she does around here.” Bea flutters a freckled hand to encompass all of Des’s responsibilities.

  Des scowls. Is that how her sisters see her? As some sort of Cinderella? Maybe she wouldn’t have to do so much if they helped out a little more. “And she has hobbies,” Bea adds, gesturing to Des’s half of the room, which looks like a craft store explosion.

  Des twirls the turquoise ring on her index finger. Why is her art a hobby? No one dismisses Bea’s writing or Kat’s acting that way. Anger is hot in her chest as she remembers Em’s comment about “practicing her handwriting.” Maybe she isn’t going to art school; maybe she isn’t pursuing art professionally; maybe she hasn’t been making much time for it lately. It’s still important to her.

  But can she blame her sisters for failing to realize that when she doesn’t take it more seriously herself?

  “Whatever.” Kat flops down on Bea’s twin bed. Bea’s half of the room is immaculate: her bookshelf organized alphabetically, her notebooks stacked neatly on her desk, her sunny yellow duvet pulled up to her pillow. Even the photos on her wall are arranged at perfect right angles. “Tell Des she can’t wear that to the party, Bea.”

  “It’s on a farm,” Des says irritably. “I’m dressed to go to a farm. At least I don’t look like a giant toddler.”

  Kat shrinks into herself, and Des wishes she could stuff the word giant back down her throat. “I don’t understand the romper trend,” she adds hastily.

  Kat pops up to look at herself in the mirror, tugging at the halter neck of her royal-blue romper. Des examines her sister while Kat’s back is turned. Has she lost weight? Has she been eating enough? She’s been sad, trying to hide it with a higher than usual amount of bitchiness, but it’s hard to hide anything in a three-bedroom house filled with five people.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” Kat snaps, catching her gaze in the mirror. “Do you want to know everything I ate today? You can text Pen. She’ll tell you I had a strawberry ice cream cone yesterday to celebrate getting the part.”

  “No, I trust you. If you say you’re okay…” Des trails off.

  “I am,” Kat insists.

  Des turns her attention to Bea, who’s taken off her glasses and is now carefully applying eyeliner in the mirror. There are dark circles under her brown eyes. “Hey, wait a minute! Bea’s wearing jeans.”

  Kat tilts her head, evaluating Bea’s dark skinny jeans and Self-Rescuing Princess tank top. “She and Erik have been dating forever. She doesn’t have to try anymore.”

  Bea gives her a ferocious frown. “I don’t dress for Erik. I dress for myself.”

  “I can tell,” Kat says.

  Des’s phone beeps with a notification that Em has posted pictures. She’s already at the party.

  “I am a whole person all by myself,” Bea continues. “I don’t need a boyfriend to be complete. Neither does Des, and neither do you.”

  “Fine. Wear whatever you want.” Kat stomps from the room. “But don’t complain to me if people think you’re lame.”

  “Don’t say ‘lame’! It’s ableist!” Bea shouts after her.

  Des frowns as she scrolls through Em’s photos. Em’s standing near a bonfire, a red Solo cup in one hand, posing and laughing with girls from their high school class. Girls she’s gotten coffee with over the past few weeks. Des has seen those pictures on Instagram too and felt stung that she wasn’t invited.

  Maybe Em assumed she had to work?

  Or maybe, she thinks bitterly, Em’s embarrassed by her now. Tonight, Em’s wearing a strapless pink sundress and dramatic pink, purple, and teal eye shadow. How did she learn to do eye shadow like that? Des feels left behind and somehow betrayed.

  Vi leans in their doorway. “Bea? Will you braid my hair for the party?”

  “Sure.” Bea gestures to
the floor in front of her green velvet armchair.

  “Wait, what? Are you coming with us?” Des asks. Her littlest sister is only fifteen: too young, in Des’s opinion, for farm parties. “Did Gram say it was okay?”

  Vi nods. “I’m not a little kid anymore, Des.” She smooths her teal skater dress, which is printed with cute purple and green dinosaurs. Vi has always had a quirky style that’s all her own.

  “That dress is super cute,” Bea says.

  Vi’s face falls. “Cute? I don’t want to look cute!”

  “What’s wrong with cute?” Des asks, baffled.

  “Cece isn’t cute. She’s gorgeous.” Vi sprawls on the floor.

  So that’s why Vi wants to go to the party: because Cece Pérez will be there. Vi’s yearlong crush on Cece is enormous and adorable and, as far as Des can tell, entirely one-sided.

  Bea sinks into the high-backed reading chair, brush in hand. “Cece is beautiful, and so are you. There are a billion different kinds of pretty.” She grabs a copy of The Beauty Myth from her bookshelf. “You should read this.”

  Vi eyes it warily. “Nonfiction isn’t really my thing.”

  Des hides a smile. Bea’s been bugging her to read Bad Feminist for months, but Bea’s the only one of them who devours essays.

  “Let’s do braids around the crown of your head. You’ll look like a fantasy princess.” Some of the tension goes out of Vi’s slim shoulders as Bea brushes her hair.

  Des gets up and stares into her closet. She and Em used to judge other girls for taking dumb drunk selfies. They used to tease Kat for spending hours watching YouTube makeup tutorials. But somehow the rules changed when Des wasn’t looking, and now Em cares about makeup and fashion and good angles for selfies. What will she think if Des shows up at the party like this, barefaced, in jeans and her Le Petit Prince T-shirt?

  Des sighs. “Fine. What should I wear, Kat?”

  Kat reappears almost instantly, holding a black cold-shoulder top. “This. With your nice jeans.”

  Des wonders if her sister’s been lurking in the hall, just waiting for her to change her mind. She examines the shirt, which has a deep V-neck in addition to the cutout shoulders. It’s not something she’d wear to the store, where she’s constantly leaning over to shelve books. But it is a party. “I’m not wearing heels. Or eyeliner. It gets in my contacts.”

  Kat produces a tube of mascara, some peachy lip gloss, and a pair of black flats. “Here. You can wear my shoes if you promise not to step in cow shit.”

  “There are going to be cows?” Vi perks up. “Do they have horses?”

  “You are not spending all your time with the horses, you weirdo.” Kat glances at Vi’s tote bag. “Do you want to borrow a clutch? Wait—are you bringing a book?”

  Vi shrugs. “I bring a book everywhere,” she says as Des wriggles into her nice jeans.

  Bea laughs. “You know, this is the first Pennington party we’ve all gone to.”

  “It’s our last summer together,” Vi says. “Who knows if you’ll even come home next summer? You’ll probably have some amazing internship at the Washington Post already.”

  “Don’t be silly. Of course I’ll come home for the summer,” Bea says, but her jaw is tight, her smile forced. Des can tell Bea is super stressed out about something. She feels bad that she hasn’t ferreted out what it is yet.

  “I can’t wait to get out of this stupid town!” Kat leans over Vi to apply brown eyeliner to her upper lash line. “Two more years, and then I’m going to New York. Or maybe Los Angeles. But probably New York.”

  “New York. Then we can be roommates.” Vi holds her hand out for the peach lip gloss. She confided in Des last week that she’s thinking about going to NYU and then becoming a children’s book editor.

  Des’s stomach sinks. They all want to leave Remington Hollow. Is that what the next four years will be—a series of goodbyes? Bea will head to DC in August, Kat will leave for New York in two years, and Vi will follow her in three. They’ll come home for Christmas break and summer vacations at first, until they get internships and their own apartments. Until they get serious boyfriends and girlfriends. Until they’re too busy and too big-city for Remington Hollow. What if they all start to think of it as a stupid hick town—and of her as their boring big sister who never went to college and never left home? Whose life hasn’t changed since high school?

  “Don’t worry, Des,” Kat says magnanimously. “We’ll still come visit you and Gram.”

  “Gee, thanks.” Des forces a laugh, but it stings that they assume she’ll still be here, the same old Des, working at Arden and living with Gram.

  That never used to bother her. It’s what she assumed too. Now she wishes she were less predictable.

  • • •

  When they pull up outside Tia Julia’s, Paige is already waiting on the sidewalk. Des made her sisters crowd into the back seat, which Kat has been complaining about nonstop for the five blocks from their house to Arden. She stops whining midsentence when Paige jumps into the car, and Des catches all three of her sisters gawking in the rearview mirror.

  “Paige, these are my sisters Bea, Vi, and Kat. Guys, this is Paige,” Des says.

  “You’re Des’s friend?” Kat asks, as if there must be some mistake, as if this glam stranger has stumbled into their car by accident. Paige is dressed all in black, with her purple hair pulled into a high ponytail. She’s wearing a septum ring and heavy, black eyeliner.

  “Yep.” Paige fastens her seat belt and pulls out a pack of cigarettes. “Do you mind if I smoke, Desdemona?”

  “Yes,” Vi answers for her, and Des cringes. “Des has asthma.”

  “No worries. We need some tunes, though.” Paige plugs in her phone, and soon a party playlist is pounding through the car.

  “You’re squishing me, Bea,” Kat complains. “Why didn’t you get a ride with Erik?”

  “He’s camping with his dad,” Bea says.

  “Camping?” Kat says. “Gross.”

  “Who’s Erik? Your man?” Paige asks. As they turn down the Penningtons’ long gravel driveway, passing fields of corn and soybeans, Kat and Vi gush about Bea’s boyfriend.

  “He’s a big nerd, but he’s sweet. And patient. Like, super patient.” Kat rolls her eyes. “He’d have to be to put up with Bea.”

  “They’re going to get married,” Vi adds. “He’s kind of like our brother already. When he comes over, he takes out the trash and changes lightbulbs and stuff.”

  “We don’t need a boy to change our lightbulbs,” Bea snaps. “What kind of feminist are you?”

  Des’s brow furrows while her sisters bicker. Bea is definitely more prickly than usual. Is she mad that Erik went away for the weekend? Maybe she feels anxious about going to the party without him; the two of them are usually inseparable.

  Des’s stomach ties itself into knots as Bea directs her to a field where two rows of cars and trucks—mostly trucks—are already parked. God, why did she agree to come? This is stupid. Why is she trying to be someone she’s not? To prove something to Em?

  Her sisters and Paige spill out of the car, laughing. Kat strides across the field toward the flickering orange light of a bonfire, towing Vi along behind her. Bea follows, fiddling with her phone.

  Des climbs out last, reluctantly, already regretting her choice. Paige is leaning against the hood, waiting for her. “You seem a little tense, Desdemona.”

  “Yeah. Emily—my friend, the one you met yesterday at the store?” Des gives an awkward shrug. “She was right. I don’t usually come to these parties.”

  Paige cocks her head like a bright parrot. “Are you two fighting or something?”

  “Yeah. I don’t know why I said I’d come. I mean, I do know…I wanted to do something…unexpected. To prove that I’m not—” Des falters. Paige can’t be more than a year or two older, but she s
eems utterly self-assured. Like she genuinely doesn’t care what other people think. How is that possible? Can she teach Des her secrets?

  “Not what?” Paige prompts. Then: “You know what, never mind. It’s none of my business. But if you want my advice, you don’t have anything to prove to anybody. You’re rad, Desdemona.”

  “I am?” Des asks, surprised and flattered.

  “Sure. I mean, whatever, you shouldn’t care what I think either. But you’ve got that sexy red hair and tits I would kill for. You just need a little confidence.” Paige is fumbling with her cigarettes. “Look, not to sound like a bad after-school special, but do you want to smoke some weed with me? It can really help with anxiety.” She offers the joint to Des.

  “Oh, um. No thanks,” Des says.

  “Right. Asthma.” Paige lights the joint and draws in a deep breath. She doesn’t pressure her. Isn’t disappointed. It hits Des again with a slap of euphoria: Paige doesn’t expect anything from her.

  “You know…what the hell,” Des says slowly, holding out a hand. She wants to be less predictable, right? More adventurous? Well, no one is expecting her to show up at this party, much less show up high with a purple-haired punk girl. “Sure. It would be nice to chill out for once.”

  Chapter Ten

  BEA

  As soon as Bea reaches the bonfire, Chloe Chan rushes up and envelops her in a hug. “Bea!” Chloe shrieks. She smells like beer and marshmallows, and she almost impales Bea with the stick in her left hand.

  “Hey, Chloe.” Bea shoves the sharp, gooey stick away from her Princess Leia shirt.

  “How are you? Want a s’more? I’ll roast a marshmallow for you!” Chloe offers. There’s a little chocolate smeared at the edge of her mouth. Chloe’s a messy drunk. Bea has always derived some petty satisfaction from that.

  Honestly, she’s always been a little jealous of Chloe. As if being salutatorian and editor of the yearbook wasn’t enough, Chloe was also captain of the girls’ tennis team and president of the Future Business Leaders of America. And she still found time to party. She’s the cute, enthusiastic golden retriever to Bea’s yapping, high-strung terrier.