Nolie buckled with a guffaw that brightened her whole face. But Lacey didn’t laugh. She caught the spark instantly.
“Perfect! A wedding-inspired fashion event. Showcasing every piece in Akari’s collection—brides, bridesmaids, men in tuxedos and…” She turned to Nolie. “Flower girls.”
Nolie’s eyes flashed as she looked up at Tessa. “Really? Can I be one of them?”
“Can you… Are youkidding? You’re the star!” She impulsively hugged the child, who squeezed right back. Over her narrow shoulder, she caught Crista’s gaze, warm and relieved and hopeful.
She closed her eyes and held the hug, seeing only her dear departed father, who was not a traitor. Somehow, she’d get Crista to believe that, and maybe this child was the answer.
June 12, 1990
Okay, diary, let’s just start by saying that tonight was the most horrible night of my entire life. (And that’s saying something because Crista is my little sister, and her whole existence is spent annoying me.)
I am writing this under the covers, with my flashlight, because if Kate or Tessa wakes up and see me, they’ll demand to know what I’m writing, and I cannot handle the questions right now.
We all got to go to a beach bonfire tonight. Not a boring parent bonfire either—like an actual teenager bonfire. There were probably 30 kids there, maybe more. Mostly older, but teenagers.
Someone had a big boombox playing Poison (the band not the dangerous stuff). A bunch of older girls were dancing in the sand, and the guys stood around trying to look cool.
We weren’t even supposed to go at first. It was technically Eli and Peter’s thing, but Tessa somehow managed to convince them to let us tag along. Of course, because Tessa can get Eli to do whatever she wants. It’s like a superpower. The parents were okay with it because the boys promised to look after us.
Anyway, once we got there, I was happy to be included. I mean, I was standing around with high schoolers. But then, things took a major turn, and not a good one. Not even close.
I saw Eli and Peter standing off to the side, talking, heads together like they were plotting a bank robbery or something. Obviously, I had to listen. Of course, neither one noticed me so I could hear them talking…about a girl.
Not just any girl. A perfect girl. Her name was Bethany or Brittany or something equally unfairly cool (not named after some movie star from a hundred years ago like moi). And according to Eli and Peter, she was the hottest girl at the bonfire. (Peter’s exact words!)
I looked over, and of course, there she was—sitting on the sand, flipping her incredible blond hair and laughing like the entire universe revolved around her. She had on a jean miniskirt and a cropped tank top that was, okay, slightly cooler than my I New Kids on the Block tee and cutoff shorts.
And Eli and Peter? They were obsessed.
They started plotting how to talk to her, and their ideas just got dumber and dumber.
Okay, she was gorgeous. And cool. She probably had two or three boyfriends back home, while I couldn’t even get one boy to look at me—except when Peter ruffled my hair and called me “kiddo” like I was his annoying little cousin. Ugh!
I stared at her and thought…what would it feel like to have boys scheme about how to talk to you? Not one…but two!?
I’ll never know.
I tried really hard not to care—I mean, I’m 13 and have a secret crush on a 16-year-old. I’m not technically jealous, but…then Peter ran a hand through his hair and said, “Okay, I’ll just go over and talk to her. I’ll act natural.”
Then he talked to her for like an hour. Eli had to finally drag him away and all they did in the car on the way home was talk about Bethany/Brittany the boy magnet.
I don’t think I’m ever going to be the kind of girl that makes boys trip over themselves just to talk to me. I’m never going to have two guys scheme about how to win my attention. I’m just Vivien, the little sister tagalong. I might as well be Crista, at least in Peter’s eyes.
But I have Kate and Tessa—Tessa pronounced them “idiots”—and we did have fun singing with the boombox.
U Can’t Touch This!
If all they do is talk about her tomorrow, I’ll just throw myself into the Gulf. And then Peter will magically realize I exist! And save my life! And perform…that medical kissing thing. Or not.
Going to sleep now.
P.S. If anyone finds this diary when I’m dead, please burn it immediately. I cannot have anyone knowing I wrote this.
V.
The call from Fiona Buckman the next morning had taken Vivien completely by surprise. But after a moment on the phone, she remembered the woman she’d been introduced to at a dinner party a week earlier.
