Justin raised his little arm and flexed his bicep, mimicking J.J., the oldest of the Scott children. Justin was a surprise baby, which explained the seven-year age gap between himself and Jill, who was twelve, and J.J., who was thirteen.
“Oh!” Una admired Justin’s arm. “I could use muscles like that in the garden today. What do you say?”
Justin nodded and ran back into his room. Within seconds, Jill and Una heard him talking to himself and making car engine noises.
“He loves his Hot Wheels,” Una said, her eyes shining with affection.
Jill’s face clouded. Everyone loved Justin. Her mother most of all. She was always hugging and kissing her youngest child. She stroked his hair, rubbed his back, and let him climb onto her lap when they all watched TV. Jill couldn’t remember the last time her mom had spontaneously reached out to hug or kiss her.
“Mom got him a new pack of cars for being good while she was at work.”
“He’s always good,” Una said. “And so are you. Do you want me to braid your hair?”
Jill didn’t have much time before she had to catch the bus. Their stop was at the top of the road, and their house was at the very bottom, perched on a narrow stretch of lawn overlooking the harbor. It was an uphill walk to the bus stop, which Jill hated, but a downhill ride whenever she rode her bike home from her best friend’s house, which she loved.
Grabbing her hairbrush and two hair ties, Jill followed Una into the kitchen and sat at the table while Una filled the kettle with water.
Una started every shift with a mug of tea, and Jill loved the scent of it. Una carried the tea leaves in her purse and would scoop them into a little silver ball. When she lowered the ball into her mug of hot water, the aroma of herbs and flowers would fill the air.
Once, when Jill had asked about the tiny purple flowers in the tea, Una had gotten a faraway look in her eyes. “That’s Arctic thyme. It grows in Iceland. My amma loved to use it for tea. Now I do, too. But mine also has mint. Keeps my breath nice and fresh.”
Jill loved Una’s scent, which was a blend of mint, lemon furniture polish, and Pond’s Cold Cream. It was nicer than the perfumes her mom wore, or the body spray the older girls at school used after gym class.
“Alright, let’s get your braids in,” Una said, running the brush gently through Jill’s dirty-blond hair. Using the edge of her fingernail, she parted Jill’s hair down the middle. In the background, the water in the kettle gurgled softly.
Jill said, “I need to tell you something.”
Una started braiding. “Okay.”
Jill thought she heard a sound coming from down the hall. A few notes of music, tremulous and strange. She pictured the carousel horse with the bared teeth slowing turning.
She wanted to hide the thing away—to shove it in the back of a drawer. But if she did that, her mom would notice. And what could Jill tell her? That the horse creeped her out? If she told her the truth, her mother would frown or let out a sigh, her face etched with disappointment.
It would’ve been easier if Jill collected trophies instead of music boxes. J.J.’s shelves were stuffed with dozens of shiny gold swim trophies. He had so many that he barely had room for his comics or D&D handbooks, and after this summer, he’d have to find another place for his other possessions. Summer was right around the corner, and for J.J., summer meant more trophies.
Jill had a few trophies. None were gold. Hers were the color of old pennies.
Just once, she wanted to see her name on one of the big two-tier, first-place trophies J.J. casually collected, but she had to make the team first.
Every day this week, she and J.J. had come home from school, changed into their swimsuits, grabbed goggles and towels, and headed to the yacht club for tryouts.
To get to the yacht club, they’d cross the back lawn and jump off the seawall onto the strip of beach behind their house. Heading west, they’d pass a vacant lot, then Mrs. Smith’s boathouse and beach, then another vacant lot. A seawall topped with a thick layer of concrete marked the beginning of the yacht club’s property. From there, it was a short walk past the snack bar to the outdoor pool.
J.J. always increased his pace when they reached the parking lot. He didn’t want to be seen with his sister. At school, shewas the more popular of the two, but he was the king of the pool.
A year ago, Jill and J.J. were the same height. Now J.J. towered over Jill. He was tall with wide, powerful shoulders and strong legs. He could outswim the rest of the boys in his age group with ease.
Jill wasn’t fast or strong. She kept hoping she’d shoot up in height—for the equation of her body to balance out. Instead of getting taller, she just got thicker in the waist and thighs.
“You need to watch what you’re eating. You don’t want to look like the Pillsbury Doughboy. Boys like a girl with a slim figure,” her mother had said a few weeks ago when Jill was trying on last year’s swimsuit to see if it still fit. “I’m not going to spend good money on a new suit until we see which team you’ll be on, but if you want to move up, you should exercise more and snack less.”
Jill had desperately wanted to be a Flying Fish. All week, she’d been worried about spending another year as a Bluefish, losing any chance of winning one of the coveted gold trophies at the end-of-season banquet and finishing another season with a small participation trophy.
But at the end of yesterday’s tryouts, Coach Patrick had read out the names of the newest members of the Flying Fish, and Jill had made the team. Fueled by joy, she couldn’t wait to share the news with her parents.
Though J.J. had made the team without even trying, he’d been in a foul mood on their walk home.
Jill had seen his sullen look when Coach called her name, and she knew he didn’t want to share his place in the spotlight. The idea made him angry, and when J.J. was angry, he was cruel.
