Without Merit

“I killed our father.”

My hand pauses on my seat belt. I look up and Luck unbuckles his seat belt and slides open the minivan door. He gets out, but the rest of us are paralyzed by his last comment. Once he’s outside the van, he straightens out his kilt and then looks back inside at all of us.

“Oh, come on. I’m kidding.”

Honor exhales. “That’s not funny,” she says, throwing open her door.



When we get inside, Honor walks up to the front desk and rings the bell. A few seconds later, one of Honor’s friends from school, Angela Capicci, appears from the back office.

I’ve never liked Angela. She was a year ahead of us in school, but she and Honor have been casual friends since we were kids. Being as though most of our friends aren’t allowed over at our house due to the rumors (founded or not) about our family, the friendships Honor and I form with other people are almost always casual. I keep more to myself than Honor does. I’m not as good at hiding my distaste, and I’ve always distasted Angela. She’s the type of girl who allows the attention from guys to value her worth. And from the way she’s eyeing Luck right now, she must be in need of a little valuing. “Hey,” she says to him with a flirty grin. “You’re new.”

Luck nods and returns her flirtatious smile. “Fresh off the boat.”

She raises an eyebrow, unsure of how to respond to his comment. She looks back at Honor. “My shift ends at eleven. If you guys are still here, I’ll join you.”

“We have to be home by ten,” Honor says. She holds up the key card. “Thanks for this.”

Angela nods, bringing her gaze back to Luck. “Anytime,” she says, her voice dripping with invitation. Her eyes remain glued to Luck as we make our way toward the bathrooms to change. Honor and I walk into the girls and she immediately pulls her shirt off and begins changing without walking into one of the stalls. I’m a bit more modest than she is, and the idea of someone walking into the bathroom while I’m squeezing into my bathing suit is enough to force me into the stall to change. I have my jeans and T-shirt off when Honor says the inevitable.

“So who was Luck referring to?”

I pause for a moment, then begin pulling on my swimsuit. “What are you talking about?”

“In the van,” she says, clarifying what I already know. “He said you told him you had a crush on a guy. Do I know him?”

I close my eyes and try to imagine the hell that would break loose if I admitted to her that the guy I have a crush on is her boyfriend. It would be the end of what little relationship we have left as sisters. I open the door to the stall, pulling my T-shirt over my head. “He was lying. There’s no one. I hardly even leave the house; how would I meet someone?”

Honor looks a little disappointed in my answer. She also looks . . . stunning.

“Is that a new bathing suit?” I ask her. She’s in a red bikini with black trim. It covers her as well as a bikini can cover her, but the color and the cut are perfect. I look down at my oversized T-shirt that’s covering up my ill-fitted, plain black one-piece, and I frown.

“I’ve had it a few months,” she says, slipping her hands into the top to push her cleavage together. “You just never come swimming with us so you haven’t seen it.”

“You know I don’t like swimming,” I mutter.

Honor folds her jeans and sets them on the sink counter. Our eyes meet in the mirror. “Is that the reason?”

Although it would appear otherwise, the question is rhetorical. Honor knows the reason I don’t swim with them has nothing to do with how I feel about the water. I don’t come because of my strained relationship with her and Utah. The relationship that’s been strained for five years now.

She walks out of the bathroom and I give it a moment before I follow her. The last thing I need to witness is her boyfriend’s expression when he looks at her in that bathing suit.

I notice I sometimes refer to him in my head as “her boyfriend” instead of Sagan. I wonder if I’ll ever stop referring to him as her boyfriend and not by his name. I just really like the name Sagan. It’s smart and sexy and I don’t want it to fit him, but it does. So well. Which is why I just want to refer to him as his title. Honor’s boyfriend. It’s less appealing.

Wishful thinking.

I take off my T-shirt as I look in the mirror. I stare at my one-piece and wonder why everything looks better on Honor, even though we’re identical. She looks prettier in dresses, better in jeans, taller in heels, sexier in swimsuits. We have the same body, same face, same hair, same external everything, but she pulls off her look with more maturity and sophistication than I ever could.

Maybe it’s because she’s more experienced than I am. She’s got three years on me when it comes to losing her virginity. That could be why she walks with an air of confidence that eludes me. The only guy I’ve ever made out with is Drew Waldrup and he didn’t even get to third base. That whole debacle didn’t end with me gaining more confidence. It ended with me being mortified.

At least I got a trophy out of it.

I know I’m being ridiculous. Losing your virginity doesn’t make you more of a woman than a virgin. It just means your hymen is broken. Big whoop.

I pull the T-shirt back over my head. I’m not about to swim in front of Honor’s boyfriend like this with Honor looking like she does.

The four of them are in the water when I walk into the pool room. I keep my head down, not wanting to make eye contact with anyone as I make my way over. I’m not even sure I want to swim yet, so I sit down on the ledge at the shallow end and let my legs dangle in the water. I watch the four of them swim for a good half hour, ignoring Luck’s pleas for me to join them. When I refuse for the third time, he finally swims over to me. He grins and presses his back into the wall, watching as Utah and Sagan race from one end of the pool to the other. Honor is now sitting on the edge of the deep end, waiting to declare a winner.

“You two are identical, right?” Luck says, spinning around in the water so that he’s facing me.

“On the outside.”

He reaches to me and tugs on the hem of my T-shirt. “Then why are you hiding your bathing suit with this T-shirt?”

“I feel more comfortable covered up.”

“Why?”

I roll my eyes. “You never stop with the questions.”

He waves toward Honor. “If people can see her, they can see you. It’s the same thing.”

“We’re two different people. She wears a bikini. I don’t.”

“Is it a religious thing?”

“No.” I’ve known him half a day and he’s already ranking up there with Utah and Honor on the irritation scale.

He leans in and brings his voice to a whisper. “Is it because of Sagan? Is he why you feel uncomfortable?”

“I never said I was uncomfortable. I just said I’m more comfortable in a T-shirt.”

He tilts his head. “Merit. There is a vast difference between you and your sister’s confidence levels. I’m trying to figure out the root of that.”