Lilli sits forward in her seat and taps Marnie’s shoulder. “My youth group is going to Boyne Mountain for the weekend. Come with us, Marnie.”
“Ugh, that’s, like, four hours away.” Marnie’s whine has the exact pitch of a mosquito’s scream. “And I get carsick anytime I’m in that creepy church molester van.”
“It’s not a molester van.” Lilli chuckles when she says it. Unlike me, Lilli finds Marnie’s mood swings and petulant pity parties endearing. Maybe because Lilli was born with superhuman levels of patience. “And that’s not even that long. We’re doing Vanpool Karaoke. C’mon, we always need an alto, and Langley Mendoza is not an alto.”
Marnie and I glance at each other, then back at Lilli, whose face is dark for a few long beats.
Marnie shudders. “I’m scared to sing with you. You’re too intense about music.”
Lilli’s face clears like the clouds after a flash summer storm, and she pastes on the angelic smile she’s been practicing since her early child-performer rehearsal days. Is her smile real or just super convincing? Hard to tell.
“I’m just joking,” she insists. “Anyway, you have nothing to worry about because you have the most beautiful contralto in the world, and, honestly, I’m kind of jealous, Marnie. This would be the perfect time for us to do the duet I’ve been begging you to do, like, forever. C’mon, we’re barely going to see each other. I have to go to Nashville in, like, nine days, and AJ’s leaving even sooner.” Lilli looks at me from under her perfectly curled lashes. “AJ, maybe you could catch a later plane? Just this one time?” Lilli pleads.
I shake my head and give her a bland “No.” I’ve mastered Vanessa Jepsen’s No, and don’t ask again tone, and when she hears it, Lilli clamps her mouth shut and moves on to wheedle Marnie.
“You’ll be gone longer than any of us, Marnie. I know volleyball is, like, really important to you, but you play so much during the year.” When Marnie and I both look back at her in surprise for a second time in ten minutes, she shrugs again. “I know, it’s super normal for us to be so busy. And I get I’m sometimes the busiest, but I guess I wish we could do something together during the summer sometime.”
Lilli presents her request so wistfully, it tugs at my heartstrings in a way that Marnie’s demanding whines never do. Of course I feel pressure to let my sisters come to the pool party, but this moment between us won’t last if I pull up at Lex’s house with them. The rules for the Rising Seniors Pool Party are pretty much etched in stone, and following the tradition is kind of the whole point. My kid sisters won’t be welcome on premise. This is a ritual specifically reserved for Rising Seniors—I remember spying on Tessa’s brother’s party and being so jealous (also Harper and I enjoyed drooling over his abs while we fumed, even if we never told Tessa that part), but the longing has always been part of the deal—you don’t get the payoff without the anticipation.
“I promise we’ll do something before I leave.” I have no clue when we’ll be able to squeeze anything in, but I’m going to try to figure it out, make it right, the way I always do. “But this is a rite of passage. You can’t just barge in.”
“I know.” Lilli nods her agreement without hesitation, then turns to Marnie. “That’s why I think Marnie should come to Boyne Mountain. At least she and I could get some time together. Two sisters are better than nothing, right?”
“Maybe AJ should ditch her stupid friends and this stupid tradition and come with us,” Marnie challenges. She narrows her eyes at me. “Do you even really want to go, or are you just doing it because everyone expects you to?”
Do I want to go?
I love my friends and Lex, but hanging out with them—especially together—is draining. On the other hand, I’m about to leave for an entire summer in Florida with my other family—the one my friends don’t even know exists—so I’m pretty sure I can make it through this one night with my besties and boyfriend.
I love my little sisters, but—
“I think it’s stupid. Like, okay, so you’re doing it because it’s tradition, but why? Can you even explain why?” Marnie’s bottom lip is bulging out, and while that gimmick might work on Peter, I’m immune...and annoyed.
“This isn’t a debate, Marnie. And it’s not like you’d win, if it even was one, with that weak argument. You know what? I don’t need a reason.” I pull into our circular drive and park. “Out,” I order.
Lilli hops out and comes to the driver’s side window. “I love you, AJ! Have a good time.” She pecks my cheek and whispers, “Also, can I borrow your new tortoiseshell Ray-Bans, please? They’re so classic.”
“Yes, punk.” I ruffle her hair. “Don’t lose them. Have fun. Drink a virgin daiquiri for me on the lazy river, all right?”
She throws up a peace sign, makes a kissy face, and runs in the house with a shrill “Thank you!” thrown over her shoulder, blond ponytail sparkling like a sunbeam.
Marnie simpers in the passenger seat, arms crossed. Marnie and Lilli are what our grandmother calls Irish twins, which means they were born less than a year apart. Peter always jokes that finding out Mom was pregnant with Lilli when Marnie was only three months old played a direct role in his hasty vasectomy later that same month. Whenever Marnie acts like a brat or pouts, Mom chalks it up to all the time she wasn’t able to be the baby long enough before Lilli was born. You’d think fifteen years would be ample time to grow the hell up.
“Can I come? Please.” She bites out the polite part of her request like an afterthought, and that makes me bristle again.
“Look, Marnie, I know things have been weird with Jaylen and everyone else—”
“She didn’t even want to talk to me at the Spring Fling. Like, she actually turned around and walked the other way when I asked her if she wanted to borrow my ChapStick, like I’m some kind of disease she’s going to catch. I felt like such an idiot. And she only came to our house so she could leech off your popularity like a...social vampire. Basically it was the same thing she did at Winter Formal. It’s so gross, like, how she’s just using me, and I have no choice but to shut up and take it.” She curls her lip, but her anger deflates a second later and fat tears roll down her cheeks. “I have, like, no one, AJ. I’m worse off than Hester Prynn. At least she had her baby to hang out with.”
“Marnie, I get it, and it sucks. I know it sucks. But this pool party isn’t going to be fun for you if you come. Everyone will just be annoyed you’re there, no offense. Underclassmen aren’t allowed, and if I bend the rules for you, it will just irritate everyone.” I clutch the steering wheel, trying to balance giving my sister comfort and booting her out before I have to deal with another emotional meltdown from her. “Plus, you do have me. You have Lilli. If you don’t want to go with her—which I really think you should, honestly—Dad is home this weekend. He’d be down for a Mario Kart marathon with you. You know that. School’s over. Jepsen House Rule 3 isn’t in effect anymore.”