“It was just for canoeing,” she said.
“It’s great,” Scarlett said, turning it over once in her hands and passing it back quickly.
The trophy was stuffed back into the bag. Marlene idly twirled a lock of hair around her finger and looked around the Orchid Suite.
“When did your hair turn curly?” she asked.
“It…was always this way.”
“Even when you were a baby?”
“As long as I’ve had hair, it’s been like this.”
Unlike Scarlett and Lola, who were pure, total blonde, Marlene’s hair was slowly going a burnished red-blonde. It was long now, too, not quite curly and not quite straight. For a long time, it had been so fried by the cancer treatments that it was patchy and thin and fell out in big clumps, clogging the bathroom drains. Now that she had some hair, Marlene played with it constantly, obviously proud of it.
“I thought mine might grow in curly,” she said. “I like your hair. I wish mine was like it.”
You can’t complain about how big and unruly your hair gets to someone who’s happy to have hair at all. Scarlett guessed that Marlene knew this and had cornered her, conversationally. This was a politeness death match, and Marlene was winning.
“Have to go unpack,” she said, with an unnerving smile.
When Marlene got to the door, she turned and gave Scarlett a knowing look—the kind of look one spy might give another spy when she realizes that they are both spies and no one else is aware of the fact.
“Your outfit is pretty,” she said, and shut the door. “And it’s time to go. Lola’s waiting for us.”
Scarlett sat there in shock for a moment, stirring only when she heard her phone buzz. There was a text message from Dakota that read simply: I saw you do that. Don’t do it again. I AM WATCHING!
Lupe’s wasn’t far from the Hopewell, just a few blocks uptown, in the hustle of the Upper East Side. For the whole walk, Marlene swung her arms playfully like a little girl and chatted to Lola about camp. She even turned a few times to try to include Scarlett in the conversation. But Scarlett could now see something cold and steady in her eye. Some terrible plot was afoot. Everyone conspired against her. Her friends. Her boss. Her eleven-year-old sister. It sounded paranoid, but it was true. Hamlet was gone and Eric was gone and she was doomed.
Spencer called and met them halfway, skidding up on his unsteady bicycle. He pulled it up on the sidewalk and rolled it along.
“Audition go well?” Scarlett asked. She tried to make her voice sound normal and pleasant, but it cracked a bit. Luckily, someone hit a car horn and this was lost.
“It was good,” he said, taking a deep breath after his ride and wiping some sweat from his hands onto his pants. “They kept me for a few hours. They laughed at the tie thing. They laughed even more at the oxygen mask thing. They had me read eight times. I’ll find out tonight whether or not I got it.”
The bike snaked and banged into his side, and he had to keep lifting the front wheel to make it go straight again.
“That doesn’t look good,” Lola said, noticing the bike. “I’m glad you always wear your helmet.”
Marlene rushed ahead of them, which was a common behavior. But this time, she did it to get the door of the restaurant and hold it open for them. Spencer stayed behind a moment to lock his bike. Lola went through, and Scarlett fully expected Marlene to move aside and let the door shut in her face, but she stood there, waiting for both her and Spencer. No one else in the world could hold a door open with the bitter determination of Marlene.
Once she had herded her three older siblings inside, she stepped in front of them and backed them into a very loud corner of the festive, red-tiled lobby filled with pi?atas and a decorative old-timey red gas pump.
“Stay here,” she said to the three of them. “I want to show you guys something.”
“Did you see that?” Scarlett whispered to Spencer. “She held the door. And when she got home? She hugged me. She showed me her canoeing trophy. She said I looked pretty. She said she missed me.”
“That’s a little disturbing,” he admitted. “Maybe she just really liked camp?”
“Camp does not do that,” Scarlett said. “Unless she went to camp at Lake Prozac.”
“She could be on new pills.”
“There’s nothing wrong with her,” Lola said, obviously having overheard. “She’s so proud of that canoeing trophy…”
“You’re not listening,” Scarlett said. “The only time Marlene feels bad about missing me is when she’s thrown something at me.”
Lola laughed one of her oh-Scarlett-what-a-wit-you-are-but-I-have-no-idea-what-you-are-talking-about laughs.
Spencer was looking intently over both of his sisters, into the depths of the restaurant.
“Lola…” he said.
“You just need to give Marlene a chance,” Lola was rambling on.