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CHAPTER 1
SUNNY
The fine blue tip of the pen drags against my skin as I color in the azalea on my inner thigh, tuning out my sister and her obnoxious friends howling in the pool.
“Come play, Sunny!”
Cold water douses me where I sit at the edge, causing the flower’s edges to bleed. I let out a yelp and stare angrily at the repulsive boy in the pool.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to curse him out, but I bite back the impulse instead. At twenty-three, Cadence’s friends are four years older than me, but still half as mature.
“Fischer, leave her alone,” my sister Cadence calls from the patio. She’s mixing herself another margarita while her other friend, Liam, flirts with her from the opposite side of the bar.
“I’m just playing with her,” Fischer says as he swims over and clutches his hand around my ankle, trying to drag me into the deep end. He cackles with laughter when he succeeds.
The backs of my legs are scorched from the hot stone deck, and the cool water soothes the burn as I sink beneath the surface. I burst upward and splash him again.
“You’re such a jerk.” I use the distraction to swim away, making it clear across the pool before I breathe again. When I resurface, I hear him shouting to my sister. “Why doesn’t your little sister like to have any fun?”
“She’s just not as immature as you,” Cadence answers as she saunters over with her margarita and vape pen.
“You have any fun friends, Cadence?” he asks as he takes the e-cig from my sister and pulls a long drag from it. The strawberry-scented cloud wafts my way, so I swim behind the waterfall on the side of the pool to avoid it. The running water muffles their voices as they talk about me.
“She is fun,” my sister mumbles. “She’s just been through a lot. Leave her alone.”
Ever since my sister broke up with her cheating ex, she’s had Liam and Fischer over, nearly every weekend.
Liam, I like. He’s a stoner and isn’t the most reliable guy my sister hangs out with, but at least he’s nice and understands boundaries.
I know for a fact Cadence hasn’t slept with Liam. She has slept with Fischer, and I can’t for the life of me understand why. She shares her stories with me, so I can live vicariously through her, or so she says.
Cadence is hell-bent on keeping me as virginal as possible, like my own personal chastity belt. Not that I want to get naked with any of the guys in Pineridge anyway. Half of them have the emotional intelligence of a ten-year-old and the other half are rich creeps with over-inflated egos. I see the way they look at me, letting their hungry eyes travel my body like a violation. I’ve yet to meet anyone in this town that actually gives a damn about getting to know me first.
“Hey, kids,” Mom calls as she steps outside with more margarita mix in a big clear pitcher. “Who needs a refill?”
The boys rush forward to get their red Solo cups replenished, and I catch my mother’s eyes drift toward Fischer’s bare chest as he climbs out of the pool.
I look away.
Ever since Dad left, my mom has been acting like she’s Cadence's age. It’s a desperate attempt to siphon some of her youth. Like if she appears young and fun, she’ll be able to shed the twenty years of life she’d rather forget.
And she is fun…until the tequila drunk turns stale and vicious.
She pours herself a glass and walks toward the pool in her two-piece suit and sheer coverall that ends just below her tush.
Cadence throws me a cautious glare, and I swim toward the opposite side of the pool. I don’t want to be too obvious as I evade my mother’s presence. But I also don’t want to be around when she starts firing unanswerable questions at me: when are you going to get a boyfriend? Why don’t you ever have friends over? Why can’t you just be normal?
My mother and I are just too different. If I were more like my sister, she might be more inclined to love me. She used to be confused by me, maybe even a little annoyed, but since my dad left, it’s morphed into an obvious hatred. It’s clear to me now that he was the buffer between us.
Just a few more weeks. I’ve scraped together a sad little stack of crumpled bills under my mattress—enough, if I’m careful, to get me out of here by summer. At nineteen, I should be thinking about classes or careers, not escape routes, but here we are.
Finding a job in Pineridge is impossible, so I’ve been saving up cash my dad sends from time to time and slipping bills from my mom’s purse when she’s passed out.
Once I have enough, I’m gone. No more days spent with my sister’s annoying friends. No more drunk tirades from my mother. No more feeling like the black sheep of my family.
I’ll be on my own and out of here for good.
Climbing out of the pool, I forgo the towel and air-dry on the lounge chair. It’s been an unusually hot spring in Pineridge, and while roasting in the sun is easy to do everywhere else in California, here in Northern California, it’s a luxury we don’t waste.
