by Robin Benway
It was a dare, Maya knew, and she was so mad and so frustrated and so furious at herself that she took the bait.
“I’m breaking up with you,” she said to Claire, then watched as Claire seemed to wither right in front of her eyes.
“Are you serious?” Claire whispered. “Goddamnit, Maya. Why do you have to burn down the house with everyone inside it?”
Maya had no idea what Claire was talking about. She was too busy trying to keep her mouth still, her eyes dry. She could cry once she was home, but there was no way she was going to fall apart in front of Claire.
She wouldn’t give her the satisfaction.
“You know what?” Claire said. “Find your own ride home. I’m out.”
“Fine,” Maya said. Her house was only a couple of miles away. She would have somersaulted home on bare gravel before she got back into Claire’s car.
Claire laughed again, short and sharp and bitter, and then spun on her heel. Right before she turned the corner, she threw her empty coffee drink in the trash with such force that Maya half expected it to bounce right back out, but it stayed put.
Claire was the one who kept going.
Maya had been right. She had a hell of a sunburn.
Her shoulders were bright pink, and her nose was an interesting shade of rose. “Hey, Rudolph,” Lauren said later that afternoon, when she found Maya examining her face in the bathroom mirror.
“Shut up. Do we have any aloe?”
Lauren came into the bathroom and reached past her into the medicine cabinet. “Here,” she said. “I think there’s some Noxzema in Mom and Dad’s—I mean, Mom’s bathroom, too.”
“Noxzema is disgusting,” Maya said, ignoring Lauren’s slip-up.
“Why are you so sunburned?” Lauren asked, sitting down on the closed toilet.
“Flew too close to the sun,” Maya muttered, trying to spread the goo on her nose without it dripping on the rest of her face.
“What?”
“Nothing. Just went outside and forgot sunscreen. Did you get Dad’s text?”
Lauren nodded, resting her elbows on her knees.
“Question,” Maya said. “Why are you hanging out in the bathroom with me?”
“Because there’s nothing on TV.”
Maya glanced at her in the mirror. “Where’s Mom?”
Lauren shrugged again.
“Laur,” Maya said.
“She’s asleep,” Lauren said quietly.
Maya sighed to herself. Asleep at five thirty in the afternoon. More like passed out. Fantastic. She had been “asleep” the day before when Maya came home from school. There had been more empties than usual that week, and both Maya and Lauren had started recycling them without even saying anything to each other. Their mom must have noticed.
Right?
“What do you want for dinner?” Maya asked Lauren instead.
“Pizza.”
“Pizza’s boring.”
“You asked me what I wanted. And the Greek place doesn’t deliver.”
Maya sighed. She had already had one disastrous fight with someone that day. She wasn’t up for another.
“C’mon,” she said to Lauren. “Let’s just walk to the Greek place. Mom can sleep it off. We’ll bring her back something.”
“You’re not going to invite Claire, are you?”
Maya froze. “Why?” she asked, her voice sounding strangled to her own ears.
Lauren didn’t seem to notice, though. “Because then you’re just going to be all lovey-dovey and canoodly with each other and I’ll have to sit there and watch—like a big weirdo.”
The fracture in Maya’s heart split a bit wider. “No canoodling,” she said. “Claire’s hanging out with her family tonight.” None of that, Maya thought, was actually a lie.
Lauren went to find her shoes while Maya tiptoed into their parents’—their mom’s—bedroom. The room seemed even bigger now that their dad wasn’t there, the bed emptier. Her mom was curled up on the far side of the mattress, her breaths deep and even, and Maya watched her for a minute before reaching down and pulling the blanket up over her shoulders.
Then she went over to the dresser and opened the top drawer, finding the wad of twenty-dollar bills that she knew would be there. She took out two, then counted the rest. Assuming her mom planned on sleeping through the rest of the week’s dinners, she and Lauren could eat out at least four more times. Five if Maya gave in to the pizza idea.
At the Greek restaurant, she and Lauren sat side by side at the counter facing the windows, eating pita and tzatziki and kabobs. (Steak for Maya, chicken for Lauren. Neither of them would even consider the lamb. It just seemed too mean to eat a baby lamb.) Maya wondered if it would ever be like this with Grace and Joaquin, the ability to just sit quietly side by side, content in the knowledge that no matter what happened with your parents, or your girlfriend, that your siblings will still be there, like a bookend that keeps you upright when you feel like toppling over.
When they got home, the house was still dark, and Maya turned on lights as she made her way into the kitchen, then stashed her mom’s takeout chicken souvlaki in the refrigerator. “Mom?” she yelled. The car was still in the driveway, at least. Her mom wasn’t that stupid.
“Mom!” she yelled again. “Wake up! We brought you food!” Secretly, she hoped the idea of Greek food would make her hungover mom nauseous. Then she wondered when she had become such a mean person. “Mom!”
There was silence from upstairs, and then she heard Lauren scream, “Mom!”
Maya was running up the stairs before she even realized she had left the kitchen.
“Mom!” Lauren kept screaming, and Maya followed the sound of her voice down the hall and into her parents’ bathroom. Lauren was on the floor next to their mom. She was crumpled like a baby bird that had fallen out of its nest, and there was blood coming from her head, staining the marble floor that was freezing cold under Maya’s bare feet.
“I just found her in here!” Lauren cried. “We need to call Dad!”
Maya grabbed for Lauren’s phone, which was still in her hand. “We need to call nine-one-one!” she said. “Jesus Christ, Lauren, what’s Dad going to do from New Orleans?”
It took her three tries to type in 911 because her hand was shaking so bad.
At her feet, her mom was moaning. Lauren had a towel pressed against her head, trying to mop up the blood. The 911 dispatcher promised to stay on the phone with her until the paramedics arrived, and Maya put the phone on speaker and set it down on the countertop.
“Maya?” her mom moaned.
“I’m right here,” Maya said, but she didn’t crouch down. She didn’t want to get too close to her mother. She didn’t want to break her. Instead, she just dug her own phone out of her back pocket and started to call Claire, getting halfway through the motions before remembering with a cold shock that Maya was the last person Claire would want to hear from at the moment.
“Shit,” she whispered to herself. Lauren was stroking their mom’s hair, holding the towel to the underside of her temple, and Maya forced herself to think straight, to not cry, to figure out this problem.
She called someone else instead. At first, she was afraid that she wouldn’t answer, but she suddenly picked up on the fourth ring. “Hello? Maya?”
“Grace?” Maya said, and then she started to cry.
JOAQUIN
Joaquin was pretty used to receiving random texts from Grace. Hey, how was your day? he would get sometimes after school, or a Did you see that new movie? last weekend. He wasn’t sure if it was because she was genuinely curious or because she just wanted to check the boxes when it came to bonding with him, but it was nice either way. He usually sent back a pretty standard answer—good, how about you or nope, did not—because he didn’t always know what to say. Grace was basically a stranger, after all. Blood relative or not, they had only met twice before with their other blood relative/stranger. It wasn’t exactly the warmest of fuzzy situation
s. (Joaquin once had had a younger foster sister who used to say that all the time. The phrase had stuck with him, even if he thought it made him sound like an idiot.)
All that changed on Sunday.
It started with—what else?—a text from Grace, and Joaquin rolled over in bed, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes so he could read it. Hey, it said, and already he could tell that this text was different. I know we’re supposed to meet for coffee today, but could you come over to Maya’s instead?
That was weird.
sure okay. why?
Long story. Can you come over this morning?
Joaquin thought for a minute, then rolled back over onto his side, closing one eye so he could see the screen. okay, he wrote back. see you at ten?
Cool. Thanks, Joaq.
He stayed in bed for another minute or two, then went to the foot of the stairs. “Hey, Linda?” he yelled.
“Yeah?”
“Can I borrow the car?”
Linda came to the foot of the stairs. “Mark and I thought we’d go to the store while you were meeting Maya and Grace.”
“Grace just texted me,” he said, holding up his phone. “She wants to meet at Maya’s house.” Then he paused before adding, “I think something’s wrong.”
An hour later, Joaquin swung Mark’s car into Maya’s very, very spacious driveway. Grace’s car was already parked there. Joaquin suspected that they could have also parked a sixteen-wheeler and there still would have been room to play basketball.
“Shit,” he said softly to himself, looking up at the house through the windshield. He had suspected that his youngest sister’s family had money, and looking up at the tall front doors, the high windows that framed the front of the house, and the bougainvillea that climbed up one side of the brick wall, he realized that he had been right.
Grace opened the front door before Joaquin could even use the huge brass door knocker that was shaped like a trophy. “Hi,” she said.
She looked terrible.
“You look . . .”
“I look awful, I know.” Grace stood back, waving him into the house. “I don’t even live here, but I’m inviting you in anyway. Welcome to Maya’s home.”
Joaquin stepped onto the marble floors. There was a pile of shoes to the side, so he toed off his sneakers, glad that he had worn clean socks, at least. “Why are you here?” he asked her. “Where’s Maya?”
Grace jerked a thumb over her shoulder. “She’s outside with Lauren. Her sister,” she added when Joaquin raised an eyebrow, not recognizing the name. “She’s the one who was born right after they adopted Maya.”
“Oh, right, right,” he said, but his eyes had already traveled to the massive staircase, and the huge number of family photos that lined the wall next to it. It was like watching a timeline of Maya’s life, from baby pictures to school photos set against a fake forest background. There were vacation snapshots, candids, and posed portraits, and Joaquin could find Maya in every single one within seconds. She was the short brunette in a sea of tall redheads, and for the first time, Joaquin was sort of glad that he didn’t have a ton of baby photos. He didn’t need the constant reminder that he was different from everyone else.
Grace stood next to him, following his gaze. “I know, right?” she said after a minute. “Imagine walking past this every single day. It freaked me out the first time I saw it, too.”
“Do you think they even know that it’s weird?” Joaquin asked her, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned closer to look at one of the baby pictures, an infant Lauren propped up in toddler Maya’s lap. Maya didn’t look thrilled. Joaquin realized that she still made that same face whenever she was annoyed.
Grace just shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe they just wanted her to think that she was one of them, regardless of how she looked.”
Joaquin huffed out a laugh before he could stop himself. That was one of the first things that Mrs. Buchanan had said to him when he first moved into their home. “We don’t see skin color,” she had said, leaning down to put a hand on his then-bony shoulder and smiling so wide that Joaquin could see her back teeth. “We’re all the same on the inside.”
He had thought that was pretty funny. Everyone else seemed to be able to see skin color just fine.
“Trust me,” he said to Grace. “Maya knows she doesn’t look like them.”
“Well, that’s the least of her problems right now.” Grace sighed. “C’mon, they’re out by the pool.”
Of course there’s a pool, Joaquin thought as he followed her outside. Maya and a red-haired girl who Joaquin guessed was Lauren were sitting across from each other by the pool. Lauren was tucked under the shade of an umbrella, but Maya was sprawled out on the cement by the pool, sunglasses over her face and her feet in the water. She sat up when she heard them come outside. “Hi,” she said, waving to Joaquin. “Welcome to the latest episode of Real Housewives.”
Joaquin looked at Grace, who was rubbing her temples. “What?” he asked.
“Nothing,” Maya said. “Thanks for coming over. You want to put your feet in the pool?”
He kind of did. Their patio area was warm, warmer than it was at Mark and Linda’s house by the beach. But first, he went over and offered his hand to Lauren. “Hi,” he said. “I’m Joaquin.”
“Oh, sorry,” Maya said, sitting up again. “This is my sister, Lauren. Lauren, this is my . . . this is Joaquin. Neither of you are related to each other.”
“Hi,” Lauren said, shaking his hand. Joaquin remembered that they were only a year apart, but Lauren seemed younger, more fragile. It was clear she had been crying, too. Joaquin wondered if that was why Maya was wearing such huge sunglasses.
“Wait,” Maya said. “Are you related?”
“No,” Grace said, sitting in the chaise lounge across from Lauren in the shade.
“No, but . . .” Maya trailed off as she started to think again. “There’s some mathematical property at work here, right? Like, the transitive property? The brother of my sister is my brother?”
“I don’t think that’s how it works,” Joaquin said, pulling off his socks.
“Math isn’t biology,” Lauren added. “Even though I suck at both.”
Maya just waved her hand in the air. “Congratulations on your two new friends, Lauren,” she said. “And don’t say you suck at math and science. That’s such a cliché when girls say that. Even if it’s true, just lie.” She sighed heavily, like Lauren lying about her intelligence was the biggest of her problems.
Joaquin looked at Grace again. She simply shook her head in response.
“So,” Joaquin said, sinking down next to Maya and easing his feet into the pool.
Maya waved at him again without looking up. “How’s the water feel?”
“Good,” he said. “Blue.”
She raised her sunglasses up so she could look at him. “That’s what I always say,” she said, her brown eyes wide. “Do you feel color, too?”
Joaquin had no idea what she was talking about. “You want to tell me why I’m sitting in your backyard instead of our normal coffee shop?”
“Because this is so much better,” Maya said, then reached out and patted his arm. No one had really touched him like that, not since Birdie and their fight several days ago. “Just relax. Enjoy the blue.”
Joaquin didn’t need convincing.
“Hey, My!” Lauren called after a few minutes. “Can I ride my bike to Melanie’s house?”
“Why are you asking me?” Maya replied. Her arm was draped over her eyes now. “I’m not Mom. Thank God,” she added under her breath.
Lauren paused. “So is that a yes?”
“Yes.”
But then Maya pushed herself up off the ground and walked over to hug Lauren. They hung on tight to each other, longer than Maya had ever hugged Joaquin or Grace, and then let go. Lauren, who was almost a full head taller than Maya, patted her sister’s hair as she walked away. “I’ll be back by three,” she said.
“You better,” Maya replied, “or I’ll run over you with a truck. Not a metaphor.”
“You don’t even have your license.” Lauren didn’t sound too threatened.
“I know. That makes it worse. Think of the damage I can do.” But she reached out and squeezed Lauren’s arm before letting go and heading back to sit next to Joaquin at the pool.
Joaquin felt like he had walked into a play midperformance. He had no idea what was going on. He was tempted to pull Grace inside the house to ask her, but she was reading something on her phone, her own sunglasses pushing her hair back as she frowned at the screen.
Oh, well. At least the pool was nice.
As soon as Lauren pedaled away, Maya went inside. She came back a few minutes later with something clutched in her palm. “I love Lauren and everything,” she said with a sigh as she sat back down by Joaquin, “but I can’t do this in front of her.”
“Is that—oh, shit,” Joaquin said, looking at the joint and lighter in her hand. “Are you supposed to be smoking weed?”
“My glaucoma,” Maya said, putting the joint up to her lips. “Relax, it’s fine. My parents have no idea.”
“Oh my God. Is that weed?” Grace asked, sitting up on the chaise lounge.
“Ding ding ding,” Maya said, tapping her sunburned nose. “You want some?”
Grace hesitated, then came to sit down at Maya’s other side. “What about you?” Maya asked Joaquin as she lit it. “You in? Sunday Funday?”
“No, thanks,” he said. “I have to drive.”
“Fair enough,” Maya said as Grace settled next to her, putting her bare feet in the water. “But I go first since it’s mine.”
“Aren’t you, like, twelve?” Joaquin said. “Where did you even get this?”
“From my girl—excuse me, ex-girlfriend. Claire.”
Joaquin and Grace looked at each other over Maya’s head, and Joaquin had a flash of Mark and Linda doing the same thing to him. “You broke up?” Grace asked as Maya inhaled.
“Yes, ma’am,” Maya said, her voice rough, and she held the smoke before passing her joint to Grace.
