This one, she says, pointing to a small wolf, I got with my sister.
Any particular reason for that one?
Well, she is a wolf, and I desperately want to be one.
I’m not sure what to say to that, so instead I force myself to move away from her and lay down on the towel. Do you only have the one sister?
Violet snorts at this. God no, I have four younger siblings. I’m the oldest of five.
Four younger siblings? I try not to have a reaction to this, but fuck that’s a lot.
Ace, well, Mason is his full name but no one calls him that, is twenty-seven, so he’s six years younger than me. I do the mental math, that would make her thirty-three, the same age as me. She goes on, He’s sort of the golden boy in our family, but I think of him more like Peter Pan. Then there’s Leo, my wolfish sister.
Leo?
Leonora, but I’d advise only calling her that if you have a death wish. She’s always been just Leo. She’s twenty-six now. And then the twins, Reid and Robin, are twenty-four. Those two are the most like our parents, very free-spirited, very flighty. They just sort of do whatever feels right to them in the moment.
So you’re nine years older than them?
Yes. My parents had me when they were really young, not on purpose, I think. So they waited a while, until they were more settled—or as settled as those two can possibly be—until they had any more kids. And then they had four back-to-back. She sighs, the sound of the long-suffering.
You talk about your parents as if they’re nomads, I tease her. But I suspect a lot of the responsibility that should have been theirs fell to Violet instead.
They sort of are. We lived all over the island when I was little, especially before my siblings were born. We moved around a lot, we even lived on a houseboat for a year.
That sounds exciting, I say, but she doesn’t answer for a while.
I found it pretty stressful, honestly. I never knew how long we were going to be anywhere. I’m sure that’s why I’m a bit of a control freak now, she says this like it’s a joke, but I can tell there’s something deeper here.
I can understand that, I tell her, but I hold myself back from saying more. I can relate to feeling on edge like that all the time. Growing up with a volatile parent can make you feel like you’re always waiting for the other shoe to drop. It’s fucking stressful. And I hate to think of Violet enduring anything remotely like what my family went through.
But here on the beach, with the warm sun, and the water lapping in the distance, I can’t bring myself to dredge all of that up.
Violet doesn’t say anything else for a while, clearly lost in her own thoughts as well.
I turn and prop myself up on my side, facing her. Her eyes are closed, but after a few seconds of me grinning at her, she finally takes a wee peek in my direction.
I nod my head towards the ocean.
Swim?
Chapter 18
VIOLET
FINN AND I SPEND HALF an hour in the water. After treading water with me for a while, he starts bodysurfing, catching waves onto the shore. I am desperate to do the same, but I don’t dare try it in this stupid bikini. With my luck, the top will end up halfway down the beach.
Instead, I bob up along the waves, watching Finn ride them all the way to shore. He is brighter than the sun—so dazzling I want to scream. Tanned and muscled, with a gathering of thick, dark hair in the middle of his chest that trails down, down, down…
I snap myself out of it. This isn’t real, Violet, you idiot.
I decide I can watch him just fine from the shore, so I amble back to my towel, keen to work on my tan. I stop to pick up a tiny, round pink seashell, and bring it back to our spot on the beach, placing it carefully in the little pocket of my bag.
Finn eventually gets out to join me, so I get a full-length view of him getting out of the water, shimmering and wet. Keen to avert my gaze, I turn to watch a group of kids building an enormous sandcastle. Before we’d even arrived, they’d dug out a giant moat around the perimeter of an island, which will eventually sit in a pool of water when the tide comes in.
I stare, almost longingly, as half of them build a tall tower structure on the child-made island, while the rest of them work on refortifying the moat to build it even higher. One of the kids is egging the others on, brandishing a long stick as if it’s a sword and yelling at the rest of the children to build the moat and, Defend our kingdom!
I shift in my spot on the towel where I’m sitting, almost anxiously. I really, really want to get in on this sandcastle frenzy. But I feel as though I’ve used up my allotted weirdness today while we were at Louisbourg. I can’t help it though, my eyes keep wandering over, completely enthralled.
