Joaquin looked at Grace, who was rubbing her temples. “What?” he asked.
“Nothing,” Maya said. “Thanks for coming over. You want to put your feet in the pool?”
He kind of did. Their patio area was warm, warmer than it was at Mark and Linda’s house by the beach. But first, he went over and offered his hand to Lauren. “Hi,” he said. “I’m Joaquin.”
“Oh, sorry,” Maya said, sitting up again. “This is my sister, Lauren. Lauren, this is my . . . this is Joaquin. Neither of you are related to each other.”
“Hi,” Lauren said, shaking his hand. Joaquin remembered that they were only a year apart, but Lauren seemed younger, more fragile. It was clear she had been crying, too. Joaquin wondered if that was why Maya was wearing such huge sunglasses.
“Wait,” Maya said. “Are you related?”
“No,” Grace said, sitting in the chaise lounge across from Lauren in the shade.
“No, but . . .” Maya trailed off as she started to think again. “There’s some mathematical property at work here, right? Like, the transitive property? The brother of my sister is my brother?”
“I don’t think that’s how it works,” Joaquin said, pulling off his socks.
“Math isn’t biology,” Lauren added. “Even though I suck at both.”
Maya just waved her hand in the air. “Congratulations on your two new friends, Lauren,” she said. “And don’t say you suck at math and science. That’s such a cliché when girls say that. Even if it’s true, just lie.” She sighed heavily, like Lauren lying about her intelligence was the biggest of her problems.
Joaquin looked at Grace again. She simply shook her head in response.
“So,” Joaquin said, sinking down next to Maya and easing his feet into the pool.
Maya waved at him again without looking up. “How’s the water feel?”
“Good,” he said. “Blue.”
She raised her sunglasses up so she could look at him. “That’s what I always say,” she said, her brown eyes wide. “Do you feel color, too?”
Joaquin had no idea what she was talking about. “You want to tell me why I’m sitting in your backyard instead of our normal coffee shop?”
“Because this is so much better,” Maya said, then reached out and patted his arm. No one had really touched him like that, not since Birdie and their fight several days ago. “Just relax. Enjoy the blue.”
Joaquin didn’t need convincing.
“Hey, My!” Lauren called after a few minutes. “Can I ride my bike to Melanie’s house?”
“Why are you asking me?” Maya replied. Her arm was draped over her eyes now. “I’m not Mom. Thank God,” she added under her breath.
Lauren paused. “So is that a yes?”
“Yes.”
But then Maya pushed herself up off the ground and walked over to hug Lauren. They hung on tight to each other, longer than Maya had ever hugged Joaquin or Grace, and then let go. Lauren, who was almost a full head taller than Maya, patted her sister’s hair as she walked away. “I’ll be back by three,” she said.
“You better,” Maya replied, “or I’ll run over you with a truck. Not a metaphor.”
“You don’t even have your license.” Lauren didn’t sound too threatened.
“I know. That makes it worse. Think of the damage I can do.” But she reached out and squeezed Lauren’s arm before letting go and heading back to sit next to Joaquin at the pool.
Joaquin felt like he had walked into a play midperformance. He had no idea what was going on. He was tempted to pull Grace inside the house to ask her, but she was reading something on her phone, her own sunglasses pushing her hair back as she frowned at the screen.
Oh, well. At least the pool was nice.
As soon as Lauren pedaled away, Maya went inside. She came back a few minutes later with something clutched in her palm. “I love Lauren and everything,” she said with a sigh as she sat back down by Joaquin, “but I can’t do this in front of her.”
“Is that—oh, shit,” Joaquin said, looking at the joint and lighter in her hand. “Are you supposed to be smoking weed?”
“My glaucoma,” Maya said, putting the joint up to her lips. “Relax, it’s fine. My parents have no idea.”
“Oh my God. Is that weed?” Grace asked, sitting up on the chaise lounge.
“Ding ding ding,” Maya said, tapping her sunburned nose. “You want some?”
Grace hesitated, then came to sit down at Maya’s other side. “What about you?” Maya asked Joaquin as she lit it. “You in? Sunday Funday?”
“No, thanks,” he said. “I have to drive.”
“Fair enough,” Maya said as Grace settled next to her, putting her bare feet in the water. “But I go first since it’s mine.”
“Aren’t you, like, twelve?” Joaquin said. “Where did you even get this?”
“From my girl—excuse me, ex-girlfriend. Claire.”
Joaquin and Grace looked at each other over Maya’s head, and Joaquin had a flash of Mark and Linda doing the same thing to him. “You broke up?” Grace asked as Maya inhaled.
“Yes, ma’am,” Maya said, her voice rough, and she held the smoke before passing her joint to Grace.
Grace took it, holding it for a minute. “It’s been, like, a really long time since I smoked.” She had an odd smile on her face, and Joaquin couldn’t tell if she was happy or sad. “Oh, well, whatever.”
“Never mind,” Joaquin said automatically, then felt pleased when both his sisters smiled at him. “So is anyone going to tell me why we’re here?” he asked. “Or do I have to guess?”
“Ooh, guess, guess!” Maya said.
“Maya, stop,” Grace said, passing the joint back to her. “Wow, that’s strong.”
“Yeah, Claire doesn’t—didn’t—mess around.”
“Are we here because you broke up with Claire?” Joaquin asked. If they were going to make him dig for the information, then that was fine. He had asked tougher questions before. “Is that it?” Personally, all he had wanted to do was die after he had broken up with Birdie. He couldn’t imagine hosting a pity party about it. Maybe girls were different that way, huddling together like penguins instead of just staying under the covers and watching Netflix all day.
Maya laughed, short and sharp. “You know what? I actually forgot for a minute that Claire and I broke up. That’s how terrible yesterday was.”
Joaquin waited for more explanation. When none was forthcoming, he sighed. “So what else happened yesterday?”
Maya took the joint back from Grace. “You tell him,” she said, gesturing to Joaquin. “I bet you’ll tell the story so much better.”
“What the hell happened yesterday?” he said. “And why aren’t any of your parents here?” Joaquin had always imagined Maya’s and Grace’s parents following them around like ducklings, caring for them, cleaning up after them, holding out an eternal net so that they would never fall, never get hurt. “Did you overthrow them or something?”
Maya started to giggle, then laugh, but Grace just looked somber, and Joaquin suspected that he had either said the most perfect thing or the most terrible thing.