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That was the story Lila told herself, the one that might not have been true, but that she repeated over and over anyway. That was the way she kept herself eating and drinking and pushing at the bars, looking for a way out. That was the fairy tale that sent her off to sleep each night and woke her every morning.
Once upon a time there was a girl with golden hair and no fear. Someone locked her in a cage and hid the key. But the girl would have her revenge.
* * *
“There are dog people and cat people.”
That’s what Anton, Lila’s cousin, told her one afternoon while they sat near the lake in Carney. She was wearing her first ever bikini—a white one that her mother told her wasn’t supposed to get wet. Annoyed, she was sitting on the hot planks of the dock and dipping her feet in the water while the boys swam.
Philip, Anton’s best friend, pulled a cooler out of his car, dumping it on the bank. He was just turning twenty, and the scars on his neck showed his loyalty to her father. A shallow cut, packed with ash so that it darkened, marking him as dead to his old life and born anew as part of the Zacharov family. Sometimes when she looked at his neck, she felt guilty. Other times she felt nothing at all.
“You want a sandwich or something?” Philip asked her. “My grandfather packed up some stuff. There’s peanut butter. And some soda.”
Anton grabbed for a beer.
“Can I have a soda?” Lila asked. When he gave it to her, she pressed it against her forehead and neck, letting its coolness push back some of the muggy heat.
“Guys like you,” Anton told Philip. “Dog people. Dependable. Friendly.”
“Will bite the hand that feeds me,” said Philip.
She looked out at the lake where his youngest brother, Cassel, floated in the middle of the lake, his skin bronzed by the sun. Anton and Lila both had the kind of skin that never tanned. It just turned lobster red and faded back to pale. Already, Anton’s shoulders had gone pink.
Cassel waved to her. His black hair was a messy halo of floating curls. His eyes were as dark as the water.
“You coming in?” he called.
She wanted to explain about her swimsuit, although she wasn’t sure why her mother bought her a suit she couldn’t actually swim in. But if she said that, she was afraid he’d laugh at her. She shook her head instead.
“Which one am I?” she asked, turning back to her cousin.
“Oh come on,” he said. “You know you’re a cat person. Fickle. Finicky. Don’t listen to anyone.” He laughed.
“Lazy.”
Lila kicked the surface of the lake, sending up a spray. “So what are you?”
“We’re family,” he said. “Two of a kind.”
“But cats hate water,” she said and jumped in.
It was a cold shock after the oppressive heat, but it was the feeling of recklessness that made her giddy. She ribboned through the lake, swimming toward Cassel.
“Um,” he said as she bobbed beside him. He had a very strange expression on his face. She couldn’t be sure, but he seemed to be blushing.
“Anton says there’s cat people and dog people,” she said. “What do you think?”
“Right now, I think I’m more of a rat,” he said, glancing down then back up to her eyes. He looked like he was about to start laughing, but there was a joke he was just waiting for her to get, so she could laugh too.
She followed his gaze and finally figured out why her mother told her not to get the suit wet. The white fabric had gone translucent.
A hot flush crept up her neck.
“Get me your T-shirt,” she said. “Go.”
“This is me not saying all the things I could say.” His eyes danced with mirth. “This is me being your knight in shining armor.”
She looked toward the bank, where Anton was watching her, still drinking his beer. She kept treading water.
