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Lari,

I know you hate me but you're still my friend and we'll be friends forever, all right? Forget what Bella said, she's just jealous, but she's funny, that's why I like her. I'm sorry about the mean things I said about you, it was just me and Bella kidding around. You know that, right? Can't wait

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till school is over and we can get out of this place. I hate it.

But anyway I just wanted to say happy birthday, babe!

Love ya,

Krystal

Wow. Even someone who looked like Larissa can get stuck with a backstabbing friend like Avon. The difference between us was that Larissa still liked Krystal enough to keep her card and take it on vacation with her.

Suddenly I missed Beanie. I hope she wasn't too mad that I hadn't shown up at the beach today.

There were several other simple, white business envelopes addressed to Larissa in care of Krystal.
Why not just send them to her home address?
I wondered. As soon as I thought about it, though, I knew: they were letters from her father.

My Girl,

Do you remember when you were little and we used to play Three Wishes? Well, if
I
had three wishes now, I would choose these: That I could see you every morning. That I could see you every night. That you would never be sad again.

All my love,

Daddy

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And the next letter:

My Girl,

I would be lying if I said I wasn't angry at your mother, but I don't want you to be angry too. Anger
will only make you feel sad. When you were a baby my favorite thing was to make you laugh. It wasn't
hard. Now it seems like you hardly ever laugh anymore. It breaks my heart to think it is at least partly my fault.

Your mother and I both love you, and we both want to spend as much time with you as we can. I will see you in October. Until then, know that you are always in my thoughts and my dreams. I
love you, my girl.

Daddy

And the most recent letter, dated a couple of weeks earlier:

Dearest Larissa,

You know that I would drop everything and come see you if I could, but you've got to stop calling me. I am so afraid that your mother will find out about our talks and make it even harder for us to see each other. We have to do what the lawyers say, no matter how much we hate it. Please, baby, don't risk losing our October visit. It's the only thing that keeps me going these days.

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I have so many regrets, Larissa, I don't even know where to start. I am sorry I walked out on your mother (even though she told me to go) because it's the thing she can bring up to the lawyers, again and again. I am sorry I missed those alimony payments early on. Mostly, I am sorry I gave your mother full custody. I really thought it would be best for you, not having to change
houses all the time, especially since my apartment isn't very nice.

The one thing I am not sorry about, the one thing in my life I did right, is you. It is because your mother and I both love you so much that we don't want to share.

When we see each other in October, we can talk about going back to court to see if we can have weekly visitations. Or maybe your mother and I can share custody. I could move closer to your mother's house so you wouldn't be too far from school.

Until then, my girl, enjoy your summer with your mom, and know your daddy loves you.

When I finished reading, I tucked the letters back into their envelopes and placed them back in the drawer. My hands were trembling, whether from the epinephrine or from rage, I didn't know.

My whole life I had dreamed of having a father, of knowing a

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father. Larissa had a father who loved her, who'd do anything for her, and she wasn't allowed to see him. Larissa could have been with her father right now, rather than in this cold and hateful house. Her mother didn't even want to be with her--but she wouldn't let Larissa's father have his way.

I rummaged around the drawer some more and came up with a makeup bag and a cell phone. I turned the phone on and checked the address list: Mom, Dad, Krystal, and several boys (one of whom she had labeled, simply, "Stud"). All in all, it was a pretty short list. I checked for messages: none. Stupid Krystal, I thought.
She's probably out with stupid Bella making fun of Larissa while poor Larissa is stuck here in this concrete house with no one to talk to, not even a cat.

I heard footsteps over my head: Mrs. Sealy was walking up the stairs on her way to her bedroom. The door closed, and then it was quiet.

What was Mr. Sealy like? I wondered. If there was anything to that whole "opposites attract" thing, maybe he was the nice parent, an ice-cream-buying, soccer-coaching kind of dad. Then again, maybe not. Since he wasn't due for two more days, it didn't look like I'd find out.

I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the clock. It was 9:30. The epinephrine had partly worn off, but I still felt wired. Sleep was out of the question, for a couple of hours at least. Why not make the most of my babe-a-licious looks?

I waited ten minutes and then opened my door a crack. The house was dark. I slipped on tight, faded jeans, a strappy pink shirt over a lacy pink bra, a brown sweater hoodie, and the pink

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flip-flops I loved, the ones with the sunset-colored flowers. I hadn't worn this much pink since I was five. I thought of my clothes at home and couldn't come up with a single item of pink clothing. Maybe I'd try on a pink T-shirt the next time my mother and I went to the mall. Maybe it wouldn't look as ridiculous on me as I'd always assumed it would.

I grabbed a brush and stroked my long blond hair to make it fluffy. I was about to pull out the makeup bag when I looked in the mirror. Larissa's beauty surprised me every time. My face was rosy from the day in the sun. My eyelashes were naturally dark, my lips plump. I wondered why Larissa even bothered buying makeup. She was already perfect.

I shoved a couple of pillows under my covers to make it look like a sleeping body and turned out the light. Flip-flops in hand, I crept down the hall, the floor chilly on my feet. When I reached the sliding glass door, I took a deep breath and opened it as quietly as I could. The noise echoed off the hard surfaces. I froze for an instant but heard nothing from inside the house. The ocean drowned out the sound of my movements. I slid the door shut behind me.

I scurried to the side of the house, hiding in the shadows as I crossed the lawn. The night had grown murky; clouds covered the moon. From the edge of the lawn, I sprinted for the concrete stairs that led down the rock wall to the beach and tiptoed down as fast as I could without slipping.

A wave splashed my toes almost immediately. It was high tide.

I headed along the damp sand toward the public beach. My heart raced with fear. There was no one around, so what was I

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afraid of? That a sea monster would jump out of the black ocean and pull me into the water?

Another wave rolled in, reaching all the way to the rocks and soaking the hems of my jeans. Lights twinkled far out on the horizon: fishing boats, maybe.

When I reached the public beach, I trudged up to the drier sand. It stuck to my wet feet. Normally, I love the feel of the cold beach on my feet at night. It surprises me with every step. Tonight it just made me move faster, toward the people, the fire, the warmth. I slipped on the flip-flops to protect Larissa's tender feet from broken shells.

The first person I saw was this girl I knew from swim team. She was a year older than I was, tall, with frizzy brown hair. She was loud and funny and I liked her.

"Hi!" I said, approaching her with an odd sense of relief and forgetting for an instant who I was--or who I looked like, at any rate.

She gawked at me. I expected her to smile, to say hello. But she didn't. She just stared. And then her eyes narrowed and she looked away.

"Sorry, I thought you were someone else," I said, thinking,
See if I ever talk to you again.

There was a bunch of people near the bonfire. It was hard to tell just how many in the dim light, but I'd say at least thirty, maybe more. Most kids were wearing hoodie sweatshirts and jeans. A few were still in their bathing suits, though I couldn't imagine how they could stand the cold. Kids drank from Coke cans and Sprite bottles. The smell of beer mingled with smoke

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and ocean while shouts and laughter mixed with the roar of the waves.

A couple of people stared at me. I saw Ricki and Dayna sitting by the fire. (They knew about the bonfires and I didn't?) I avoided their eyes and scanned the crowd. Where was Nate? I walked away from the bonfire and saw a couple pressed against each other, kissing. The cloud passed away from the moon, lighting the scene enough for me to recognize them.

"No way!" I said without thinking.

Ryan and Avon turned their heads to look at me. When Ryan recognized me, his eyes widened and he stepped away from Avon. She put a hand on his arm as if to claim him as her property.

I can't wait to tell Beanie,
I thought reflexively.

"Were you looking for me?" Ryan asked.

I looked from him to Avon. My mouth twitched. I tossed my tangled blond hair out of my face. "Does it matter? It looks like you're pretty busy."

Ryan took another step away from Avon and jerked his arm to release her grip. He shoved his hands into his jeans. "This doesn't mean anything. We were just playing around."

Avon made a funny mewing sound and slapped his face. It sounded like a wave hitting the side of a boat. He covered his cheek with his hand and looked at her, confused. She shot me a look of horror and hatred and ran off toward the bonfire.

Ryan seemed to forget about her immediately. He stared at me. All of this staring was getting on my nerves. "You wanna go somewhere?" he asked finally.

My mouth dropped open. After an instant, I felt something

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bubbling up inside of me until finally I laughed: a mean, nasal sound. "Dream on, Burger Boy." I ran a hand through my masses of blond hair and flashed a cruel, dazzling smile before turning my back on him and striding away.

I wasn't scared anymore. It was as if my nastiness had given me some kind of strange power: Nothing could hurt me.
Could Larissa have left some part of herself behind?
I wondered.

Near the bonfire, Avon sat huddled with Ricki and Dayna. Ricki glared at me. A surge of pity for Avon hit me, but I got over it. There were plenty of familiar faces around the bonfire, but still no Nate. Giving up, I turned to walk back to the Ice Cube House and almost ran into him.

He blinked at me and then smiled. I smiled back. This time, I didn't mind being stared at.

"You're here," he said. He wore faded jeans, his blue "Sandyland Swimming" sweatshirt, and an enormous grin.

We smiled at each other with a silence that should have been awkward but wasn't.

"Do you guys do this much?" I asked. "The bonfires, I mean."

He shrugged. "Every week or two."

I nodded, feeling a stab of pain at having never been invited. "Let's get away from here," I said. "We can go farther down the beach."

I knew everybody was watching us, but I didn't care. It's not like there was anything much to see: just the most beautiful girl in the world walking down the beach with the most beautiful boy in the world. The Golden Couple. We were such a perfect match, I felt like it deserved a comment, like, "We'd look good together

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on a shopping bag or a billboard. Or maybe on a bottle of cologne."

But I didn't say any of that because I didn't want him to think I was, you know. Vain.

After a bit, the bonfire became a distant glow, and we plopped down on the chilly sand.

"You cold?" Nate asked. "You can borrow my sweatshirt."

I shook my head. "I like the beach at night. Being cold is part of it."

He gazed at the dark ocean. "You know when I like the beach best?"

Somehow I knew the answer. "January?"

He turned his head to look at me. "How did you know?"

I pictured the winter light, the vast, open sand. "It's my favorite time on the beach too. It's so empty that I can pretend that I own it. Or, even better, that no one owns anything because there's no one here. Sometimes I look around and imagine what it was like when it was just the Indians here, living off the land."

"You've been here in the winter?"

Oops. "Here? No. But other beaches. For weekends and stuff." (Nice save.)

Satisfied with my answer, he returned his gaze to the ocean. "What do you think the Indians ate?" he mused. "Just fish and berries?"

"Nah--I bet they ordered breakfast burritos and milk shakes from the snack shack."

He laughed and turned to me. "You're funny."