“Cool.” I slung my bag over my arm. “Hopefully I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”
Step 1: Seed planted. Step 2: Calling Dad before the party to make sure he dressed appropriately. “Wear one of those nice button-downs Aunt Lou bought you,” I said over the phone on Saturday morning. “And steam it in the shower to get rid of the wrinkles first.”
“Who’s the adult here?”
“The one who was probably going to wear a college T-shirt with a bleach stain on it.”
“Idoknow how to take care of myself, you know.”
“I have not seen concrete proof of this.”
We hung up, and I showered and blew out my hair so it looked sleek and smooth instead of like a living cloud capable of eating small children. My makeup was easy because I had exactly two looks: eye makeup with red lipstick and without.
Someone knocked. “Hey, it’s me,” Ethan called through the door. “Can I come in?”
“No!” I shouted, panicking and wrapping my towel tighter.
“Come on, just for a second,” he wheedled. “I wanna show you something.”
“Oh, I’ve heardthatline before,” I muttered, looking around for clothes to pull on. Though on second thought—
Securing the towel, I opened the door, batting my lashes up at Ethan. “Yes?”
His gaze fell and he blinked several times. “Oh, uh—hi.”
I smiled and stepped back. Daring him. “Come on in.”
He hesitated in the doorway. He held a book in his hand, a familiar one. My father’s. “I wanted to show you—a few passages—maybe another time.”
“Chicken,” I said softly as he turned to go. My lips turned up. “Red junglefowl.”
He spun around, heat in his eyes, and stepped so close I could feel his breath. “Ask me to stay, then,” he said, voice just as low.
I swallowed. Heat suffused my entire body, prickling and intense, and I was suddenly very aware my towel was a single piece of fabric held up by one hand. I stepped back. “I should get ready for the party.”
“I’ll see you down there.”
I shut the door, then leaned my forehead against it. What was I doing?
Trying to ground myself, I turned back to my closet. Downstairs, I pictured a sea of white pants and linen dresses; mint greens and lemon yellows and pale pinks. Oh well. I pulled on the vegan-leather black dress I’d worn to prom and added ruby-red glass earrings to match my toenails and lipstick. Feeling much more myself, I headed downstairs.
The lawn had been transformed. White cloths covered tables laden with cascades of grapes and pyramids of cheese. Giant vats of water had been infused with chunks of coconut and pineapple. I spied trays of watermelon and tiny fruit tartlets and skewers of juicy heirloom tomatoes and mozzarella.
I’d been right about the style: no one wore all black like me,but I felt comfortable enough at Golden Doors by now not to care. The women wore nice dresses or blouses; the men had tucked in their button-downs. Their sweaters were faded, their sandals worn. But I’d been thrifting long enough to recognize quality. I could spot 100 percent cashmere at ten paces and knew the difference in how outfits hung when they’d originally been priced at three digits.
I grabbed a plate and piled it high with cucumber salad, fresh guac, and warm pitas. Balancing it on one hand, I snagged a glass of freshly squeezed lemonade with the other and carried everything to where some of the older cousins and the triplets sat.
“Jordan will know,” one of the triplets said as I joined them. “You know astrology, right, Jordan?”
“Astrology?” I met the gaze of David, Ethan’s middle brother, who spread his hands, palms up. “Uh, not really.”
“Really?” The triplet—Lily, maybe—widened her eyes. “But you study the stars.”
Another triplet—I knew there were only three, per the term, but it seemed like there wereso manyof them—spoke. “She doesastronomy, Lils. The real one.”
“Astrology is real,” Lily said with a simple elegance, as though she refused to defend facts. She focused on me again. “You understand the stars, right? You know about constellations and stuff?”
“I mean, from a technical perspective,” I hedged.
