by Anna Cruise
I nodded, digesting this.
“So, I didn't have siblings to not get along with. Or to make mistakes with. Or whatever.”
“It's not all it's chalked up to be.”
“Maybe it hasn't been so far,” he said, acknowledging this. “Having a sister. But it doesn't have to stay that way forever. Not if you want to change things, I mean.”
I didn't know what I wanted. Not with Abby, not with anything, really. But I knew one thing. I didn't want him butting in.
“Maybe,” I said dismissively.
Stuart leaned back in his chair, studying me. “You know, I can't figure you out.”
“Good.” I grinned. “You're not supposed to.”
His expression was unreadable. “But I will.”
“Will what?”
“Figure you out.”
“Why do you want to?”
He shrugged. “I don't know. Because you intrigue me.”
I raised my eyebrows. “I intrigue you? Really?”
“Absolutely.” He shook his drink cup, jostling the ice cubes. “I feel like I've barely scratched the surface with you.”
“Dude.” I smiled coyly at him. “You got all the way in. Remember?”
He laughed loudly. “Touche. But I'm not talking about sex.”
“No?” I pouted. “I like talking about sex.”
He picked up his burrito again and pointed it at me. “There's more to you than sex, sweetheart. Way more layers than that.”
“You think?”
He nodded. “I'm sure of it.”
I sipped my soda, averting my eyes. He might be sure of it, but I certainly wasn't. I'd defined myself by how I looked and who I slept with. I prided myself on conquests, not attachments. I'd been tethered to someone my entire life, through no design of my own, and I'd done my best to make myself stand out, to be different than the girl who was my twin. Even if had meant destroying little pieces of her. I'd always been okay with that, as long as I could claim my own identity, however shallow and inconsequential it was. At least I told myself I was.
But more layers? I wasn't sure they existed.
I was who I was.
And, most days, I was okay with that.
EIGHTEEN
“You texted Brynn, right?” Stuart asked.
It was Tuesday morning and he was packing up his duffel bag. I lounged in bed, naked, watching him.
“Uh huh.”
“And you're ready to go? Packed up all your stuff?”
I motioned to the Coach bag sitting on top of the dresser. “Yep.”
“When did you pack?” he asked.
“I never unpacked, remember?” I said.
We'd finished lunch and walked the boardwalk for the rest of the afternoon, venturing out on to the sand and strolling along the water's edge, the sun on our backs, the waves teasing our ankles. Later, I'd driven back to the sorority house and Stuart had come in while I packed a quick bag of stuff. Toiletries, a change of clothes. The house had been empty. I knew Sheridan was at work but there were still a couple of other sorority sisters living in the house during the summer months, in between vacations and trips home. Stuart had taken full advantage of the empty house, hoisting me on to the kitchen counter, hiking my denim skirt up and driving into me so hard I whacked my head on the cupboard above me. I hadn't complained.
He picked up a towel off the floor and shot it at me, rubber-band style. “You gonna get your ass out of bed?”
“I was hoping you'd come back to bed for a minute...” I lowered the sheet and watched as his eyes settled on my breasts.
“You're like the Energizer bunny,” he said, smiling.
“I'll take that as a compliment.”
He grabbed a shirt off the floor and stuffed it in his bag. “It was one.”
“So?” I threw the sheet off of me and waited.
Stuart sighed. “As tempting as you are—and Jesus, you are—we don't have time.”
I glanced at the alarm clock on the night stand. “It's not even ten o'clock. We don't have to be there until noon.”
He frowned. “Noon? No. Eleven. We're meeting Garcia at eleven.” Rodrigo Garcia was the driver and escort assigned to us for the trip.
I bit my lip.
“Did you get the time wrong?” he asked. And then, his eyes narrowed,“What did you tell Brynn?”
“No, no,” I said quickly. “I just forgot. I'm sure I texted her the right time.”
“Check.”
“I deleted it.”
“What? Why?”
I frowned. “Why would I keep it? It sent. I deleted it.”
“Text her again,” he said. He picked up my phone from the nightstand and tossed it on to the bed.
I sat up. “It's fine. I know I sent her the right time. I just forgot. Chill out.”
He stared at me for a minute, waiting for me to pick up the phone. When I did, he turned away and I immediately set it back down on the nightstand. I got out of bed and grabbed my bag, fishing out a change of clothes. I actually had no clue what time I'd told Brynn but I didn't really care. If she didn't show, I'd get Stuart all to myself. And I was fine with that. Better than fine.
Twenty minutes later, we were cruising down Interstate 5, the buildings that made up the San Diego skyline glittering in the morning sun. Sailboats dotted the bay, their sails stark white against the blue water. We'd missed rush hour and the drive was smooth as we headed to the South Bay, the terrain shifting, becoming more rugged, more desert-like as we drove in and out of the cities that hugged the coast.
“We're supposed to go through the Port of Entry,” Stuart said, scanning an email. “Garcia will meet us there.”
I nodded.
“You know where you're going?”
“Of course.”
“You cross the border often?” Stuart asked.
“Often enough.”
I didn't tell him that I'd been to Tijuana more times than I could count. The passports my dad had insisted we all get had definitely come in handy. It was a fun and easy destination for cheap drinks and hot guys.
I pulled off the freeway at the last U.S. exit and followed the signs for the parking lot closest to the border. There was a concrete walkway, a sort of spiraling ramp, that we'd have to walk up and over to reach the building where we'd cross into Mexico.
“This is it?”
I shifted into park and pulled the key from the ignition.“What did you expect? People with Uzis?”
He smiled and shook his head. “No. That's Africa. And the Middle East.”
“I take it you've been to all of those places?” I asked as I pulled my bag from the back seat.
“Yep.” He shielded his eyes and looked south. “Just always surprises me how little distance separates one country from another. You know? In some parts of the world, you don't even realize you've crossed over into another country. And here, it's like...like an intersection.”
“Not the other side,” I told him. I grabbed my sunglasses and put them on. “You could wait for hours in line, especially if you're driving.”
“I guess it's a good thing we're not, then.” He adjusted his backpack. “We ready?”
“As ready as I'll ever be.”
He glanced around the parking lot and then toward the building. “Brynn knows where to meet us?”
I nodded. “In the building. Before we cross over.” I didn't add that I was pretty sure she wouldn't be there for another hour.
We started walking. It was already warm, ribbons of clouds threading through the blue sky. Horns honked and engines shifted gears as cars made their way across the border. Pigeons dodged our feet, pecking the sidewalk, and chirping sparrows flitted in and out of the concrete awnings.
We entered the building and I tried not to look too surprised to see Brynn leaning up against the wall, her phone in her hand. She looked up and her brow furrowed into a frown.
“What are you guys doing here already?” she asked.
“Already?
” Stuart asked.
She looked down at her phone. “I thought we were meeting at noon.”
Stuart shot me a look.
“Oops,” I said. “I guess I did send the wrong time.”
He turned his attention back to Brynn. “Sorry. Looks like my 'handler' got her times mixed up.”
“It was an honest mistake,” I said defensively. “Anyway, she's here so what does it matter?”
Stuart ignored me. “Why are you here so early? If you thought we were leaving at noon.”
Brynn's cheeks flushed slightly. “Oh, I had to get a ride. My car's in the shop. Anyway, my brother—he's the one who dropped me off—he had to be at work by noon.”
“You should have said something,” Stuart said. “We could have picked you up.”
“Oh, it's no problem,” Brynn said, her grape eyes huge, a smile plastered on her face. “And it looks like it was a good thing he dropped me off when he did.”
They both turned to stare at me.
“What?” I asked, folding my arms across my chest. So I made a goddamn mistake. They were both looking at me like I'd just run over a dog.
“Yes,” Stuart said, smiling at her. “A very good thing indeed.”
He reached for her bag, some battered black carry-on and, after a feigned attempt at resistance, she relented and let him carry it. I stood there, my mouth open, as he turned and walked toward the doors that led to Mexico. He didn't offer to carry my bag. He didn't even give me so much as a backward glance.
I glared at Brynn and shouldered my bag.
The trip was not going the way I'd planned. The way I wanted.
And that was a problem. Because I was used to getting what I wanted.
NINETEEN
“This is a school?”
We were standing on a street in the foothills of Ensenada, staring at a dilapidated stucco building. Deep cracks crisscrossed the salmon-colored exterior, a film of dirt coating the small windows that looked out on to the deserted road. A white iron fence surrounded the small property, the gate that led into a small parking lot hanging off its hinges.
“Escuela De Los Flores,” Garcia said, tugging on the collar of his ill-fitting, button-down shirt. He was short and round, like a sausage, his gut straining against the buttons on his shirt. He wiped his hand across his slicked back hair. “Welcome,” he said, his accent thick, his smile forced.
Welcome? I stared in horror at the building in front of us. There was absolutely nothing welcoming about where I was standing. I didn't think anyone should live in a building that looked like it did, much less send kids to school there. I glanced across the street, at the narrow dirt field that served as the school's playground. Two battered soccer nets flanked the sides of the field, the wind whipping through holes in the net that were the size of watermelons. There was no playground equipment, no grass, no nothing. I glanced down the road; maybe there were monkey bars or swings or something further down the street. But, no. The only things visible were a row of shanties that tried to pass as homes. Leaning plywood walls, windows with no glass, tin roofs that hung askew. They were like dominoes waiting to topple over. Brightly colored clothes hanging on twine clotheslines flapped in the breeze, the sole bright spot in this desolate stretch of town.
The hotels and resorts that dotted the town's coastline didn't look like this. We'd driven past them on our way to the school and I'd been pleasantly surprised after the long stretch of desert terrain we'd traveled through. Not like those properties looked like hotels in the Maldives or anything, but the buildings had been nice, clean white and peach stucco, offering big windows to capture the ocean views to the west and the mountains out to the east. They looked like civilization, replicas of hotels I'd see in San Diego. But this? This was like a scene out of some Save A Child television infomercial.
“People live in those?” I asked, pointing to the shanties.
Stuart turned to look. “Of course.”
A dog rounded the corner, a mangy, shaggy mutt that eyed us hungrily as it trotted toward us. I positioned myself behind Stuart and the square heel of my mule sandal caught in the cracked sidewalk. I cursed and wrenched my foot free.
“Tell me again what we're doing here.”
“Feeding minds and souls,” Stuart said with a wry smile. “Remember?”
He was dressed in cargo shorts and a dark blue polo with his organization's logo stitched in red letters across his right breast. A matching visor sat on his head and sunglasses shielded his eyes. He looked professional, totally in his element. And he looked hot. Not hot and sweaty but do-me hot. I tried to keep my lust in check and tried to forget that he was probably still pissed about the time mix-up with Brynn.
I turned to look at the girl tagging along with us. Her blond hair was pulled back in a ponytail and her green grape eyes were hidden by a pair of massive white sunglasses. She unclipped the water bottle attached to her khaki shorts and took a sip, drops of water trickling down her chin. She did not look hot.
“I just can't believe I'm here,” she said, her voice breathless. “With you.”
I rolled my eyes. I knew she wasn't talking about me.
Stuart smiled at her. “Thank you for coming,” he said simply. “For wanting to do this.”
“I'm here, too,” I muttered under my breath. If he heard me, he didn't acknowledge it.
He glanced at his watch. “We're a few minutes early,” he said. “Books have already been dropped off; they're supposed to be in the cafeteria. Classes will be brought in for a special assembly and then we'll hand out books to each kid before they return to class. Is that right, Garcia?”
Our driver/ambassador stared at Stuart, then nodded, and I wondered if he'd understood a word he'd just said.
“So, how long is all of this going to take?” I asked.
“As long as it takes,” Stuart said.
“Way to not answer.”
I tugged at the v-neck t-shirt I was wearing, trying to stimulate a breeze. We weren't any further inland than if we'd been at State but the air felt hotter here. Stale and stifling, like the sun was somehow solely responsible for sapping the life out of our barren surroundings. To some degree, this was true. Baja was a desert, just like San Diego would have been without the convenience of irrigation. But it was more than that. Nothing bloomed here. Not animals, not plants and, by the looks of the houses and the school I was standing in front of, not people, either.
“We'll stay as long as we need to,” Stuart said.
I just shook my head and sighed and he answered with a grin. Garcia walked ahead of us, toward the entrance, and Stuart followed, with Brynn close behind. I adjusted my feet in my sandals, tugged on my shirt one last time before I hurried to catch up with them.
Garcia pulled open the door and motioned Brynn inside. Stuart stood on the step, pocketing his sunglasses as he waited for me.
“Come on,” he said, grabbing my elbow and propelling me through the door.
I lifted my own glasses and tucked them into the purse strapped to my shoulder. If anything, the inside of the school was more depressing than the outside. Gray, cracked walls, a cement slab that served as the floor. There were three light fixtures in the hall but only one appeared to be working, casting eerie shadows on the walls.
A woman rounded the corner, a big smile plastered on her round face. She waddled in our direction and her flowered sundress swayed as she moved toward us. The hem of her dress dusted the floor, the fabric stained a permanent brown. She wore her long black hair in a thick braid down the middle of her back and her eyes, black like her hair, were warm and friendly as she approached.
“Welcome,” she said, her accent as thick as Garcia's, her smile never wavering. She held out both of her hands and grabbed Stuart's, pumping it furiously. “Maria Rodriguez. The director here.” She spoke slowly, her English almost painful.
Stuart nodded and smiled and switched to speaking Spanish. Brynn practically melted into a puddle of goo as she listened, her eye
s widening, a sigh escaping from her mouth as she watched the exchange between the two. I was pretty sure she would drop her panties right there if Stuart turned to her and started speaking to her in rapid-fire Spanish the way he was to the whale-sized director.
They spoke for a few minutes more, both nodding and smiling. At one point, Stuart motioned to me and Brynn, saying our names in a mix of foreign words. Mrs. Rodriguez beamed, nodding her head as she listened. She motioned down the hallway, spoke for a minute to Garcia and then waddled back in the direction she came from.
“So...” I said, staring at Stuart. “What was that all about?”
“Just getting a run-down for the day.” He lifted his visor off his head and readjusted it. His forehead was slick with sweat and I felt a surge of satisfaction that it wasn't just me feeling the heat.
“And?”
“Did you even listen while we were outside?” he asked.
Brynn took another drink from her water and, with her eyes on me, she said, “There's a special assembly. Kids will come in by class. Right, Stuart?”
I wished I had stilettos on. Because I'd kick one off and slice the smug, satisfied smile right off her face.
“Glad to hear one of you was,” Stuart said dryly. “One change to the original plan. They're bringing all the kids in at once. Better photo op, I guess.”
“I knew that,” I said, my defenses up. “I was just asking for more details. Like where the cafeteria was. And how many kids.” And how long we'd be in this depressing building.
He nodded in the direction of where Mrs. Rodriguez had disappeared. “Right down that hallway. So we can follow. If you're ready.”
Brynn smiled. “I'm ready!”
Maybe my mule sandal would work. I might not be able to stab her but I could at least knock her out.
TWENTY
I gritted my teeth and followed them down the dark hallway. It was strangely quiet and I was having a hard time believing there were a few hundred kids in the building with us. It looked and felt like a deserted school.
