Sam wanted to, but she couldn’t bring herself to say the words. Her mother said them for her.
“It’s you,” her mother said.
“I know about Nicola, Dad,” Sam whispered.
Her father didn’t hug her or apologize to her mom or anything else. He just stood there as if he had frozen. Sam waited for him to say something. His mouth started to form words, but no sound came out. The tension in that hallway was so intense Sam couldn’t take it anymore. She ran out of the house and didn’t stop until she got to Hubbard’s Point, across the sandy parking lot and right into Isabel’s arms.
After that, her parents didn’t even bother to hide their fights. The night her father’s son, Tyler, was born was one of the worst of her life. Sam and her dad were in the den watchingVice Principalson HBO. They were on the couch, feet up on the big footstool, eating ice cream and laughing at who could be the biggest jerk at the school. It felt good, almost normal, as if they were still a real family. But then her mother walked into the room, holding up her dad’s cell phone.
“You left it in the kitchen,” she said.
“Yeah, we’re watching the show. Come sit with us,” he said.
“You have a text,” she said, handing the phone to him. Sam leaned over to read the screen.
Nicola had texted:My water just broke.
That was that. Her father didn’t say a word, didn’t kiss her goodbye, just left the house. He didn’t return for two days, and when he did, he didn’t mention Tyler. Sam had to find out the details, the fact that she now had a half brother, by hearing her mother talk on the phone to Isabel’s mom.
So partying began to make more sense than studying. Isabel was into it too. She had had some family stuff she hadn’t wanted to talk about, but Sam had been able to tell by the way their moms had whispered on the beach that they had had dark secrets in common.
“Be all right,” Rebecca said.
Sam looked over at Rebecca, her big brown eyes, blonde hair falling in ringlets to her shoulders, her mouth quivering as if she was about to cry.
Rebecca wanted to be really close to Sam, but it was impossible, as long as Sam had Isabel. Sam and Isabel had been friends forever, since before the beginning. Their mothers had sat together on the beach when they had been pregnant, the two about-to-be moms in a tight friendship knot that included Kate and Lulu—both non-mom types. But even so, the four of them were blood-sister close. They even had a name for their friendship—the Compass Rose. Four directions on the compass.
“I just want to help you,” Rebecca said.
“Thanks,” Sam said, forcing a smile. But she knew: no one could help. She had thought her family was one way, and it had turned out to be another. Sam knew why her mother had gotten pregnant when things were so bad with her dad, even without being told. Matthew was going to behers, just the way Tyler washis. Sam hated to even think this about her mother, but it was almost as if she was having a baby out of spite.
They parked along the stone wall next to the boat basin and walked up to the Waterstons’ front porch. Isabel’s parents were abnormally normal. They had cookouts and went waterskiing. They played Scrabble and Mad Libs. Their life didn’t revolve around nineteenth-century art, acquisitions and sales, provenance, pretending to be happy while one of them was fucking the assistant, having babies all over the place.
Mrs. Waterston was the sweetest, just like Sam’s mom; that hug at the airport had melted Sam’s heart, reminded her of how her mom had always hugged—full blast. The only thing was, sometimes she could be a little judgmental. Like, watching the news, she always remarked about how stupid people were, or how they deserved what they got because of their own bad actions. But she never said things like that about their circle.
“Well, we can’t all be perfect like you, Scotty,” Mr. Waterston had said once. Sam had cringed, because she’d seen the hurt cross Mrs. Waterston’s face.
She really was Sam’s second-favorite mom in the world. Sam glanced around for her—she craved another one of those hugs.
Isabel was waiting on the front porch. She stood when she saw Sam coming, and they ran together and held each other. Isabel was Sam’s soul sister, and Sam knew instantly that she instantly got it.
“Oh, Sam,” Isabel whispered. “Nothing, nothing could be worse. I am so sorry.”
“Thanks, Izz.”
“My mom’s falling apart over it,” Isabel said.
Sam drew back and saw the sadness on Isabel’s face.
“Where is she?” Sam asked.
“At the beach, and my dad’s at work,” Isabel said. She imitated putting a joint to her lips, and Sam felt her heart ease a little. That was the gift of having someone truly understand and know what would help. Isabel reached into her pocket. Sam flicked her lighter.
“Don’t do that. It’s bad,” Julie said from under a wicker table.
“I didn’t know you were there,” Sam said, crouching down, lifting the flowered cloth to see seven-year-old Julie. Blonde and pale, she wore glasses with blue frames that slipped down her freckled nose. She had an audio processing disability that wasn’t immediately obvious, but kids in school picked up on it and bullied her.
Julie wouldn’t meet Sam’s gaze at first, but then she stole a glance, blinked, and looked away again. It was hard for her, even though Sam had known her since birth. She was severely shy, always hovering just out of sight. When she did talk, it tended to be disjointed and blunt.
