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  Maybe the Lost Kids and I tried to pretend we were the cool ones, but Liv couldn’t seriously envy a group of rejects forced into humiliatingly typical teenage rebellion.

  I tried changing the subject. “Hey, how was your first soccer practice yesterday?”

  “Fine,” Liv said shortly, clearly not wanting to talk about it. I could tell she was frustrated. Liv was good at soccer, but she wasn’t nearly as good as I’d been. I knew that must kill my stepmother. I wondered if being compared with me ever bothered Liv.

  Liv wouldn’t look at me, I realized. I heard her heart rate accelerate, which was highly unusual for any of us. So now we were getting to the real reason she was here.

  “What are you doing today?”

  “I’m not sure. Why? What are you doing? Is Dad home?” I suddenly sat up straighter.

  “No, I don’t know,” Liv said quickly. “I was wondering….You’re probably going with that group to swim at Barton Springs?”

  “What?” I felt like I wasn’t getting what she was saying.

  “Angus. You know?” That instantly got my attention. I nodded warily. “He texted me about it,” she said.

  Many things were strange and wrong about this—mostly, why in the world would Angus be texting my little sister? I didn’t like that at all. Also, our two groups didn’t mix, and we definitely didn’t go out in groups to public places. All those outsiders. All that noise. And most of all, the exposure. What was Angus up to? The risk-taking was escalating. A nod was all I could manage. “Can you hold on for a second?” The lift of her eyebrows indicated, Of course.

  Attempting to look nonchalant, I let the sheet fall away and swung my legs over the side of my king-size bed, grabbed my phone, and bolted to the bathroom and dressing area. Closing the door behind me, I tried to calm my nerves in the soothing darkness, focusing on the cool marble beneath my feet. A rash was spreading up the insides of my arms. With the back of my hand, I turned on the lights, bringing the bathroom to life.

  I had to have some kind of release. With a cracking sound, the hairbrush on the counter split down the middle. Right away I felt calmer. I looked down and saw the rash receding in answer.

  I glanced up at the mirror. My heavy mascara was smeared, and my bottle-black hair was a rat’s nest. I looked the opposite of my sister—night to her day. But I enjoyed how tough I looked. It hid how not-tough I was inside. I took a few more breaths.

  I checked my phone. Sure enough—and thank God—there was a text from Angus about Barton Springs. I felt better. But how had he gotten my sister’s number? And why would he use it?

  That Liv and I had been separated into different groups made things tricky. It had been a shock when my dad announced his plan to split up the kids, and even more of one when my name was randomly selected for the group that needed to “lie low” and underachieve for the sake of appearances. It was one thing to have to fake it at school—to not be so smart, so good at sports, so quick at absolutely everything. It was another when Novak told us my group would not be receiving any kind of instruction for now and any natural skills we had would have to lie dormant.

  This was why the boys had begun to live for what I’d shown Angus how to do. We were all in the same boat: going crazy having to suppress our instincts. Not to mention that we had to deal with the migraines, the fitful, sweaty sleep, the waking up to find the contents of our bedrooms broken around us. It all felt wrong. We had been assured that our dormancy was just a temporary precaution during our remaining two years before we disappeared from Austin due to the recent scrutiny. So far we’d made it through one year and two months, but it had changed us.

  I opened the bathroom door and reluctantly walked back to the bedroom, trying to decide what I wanted to do. Liv looked nervous to be in my room, nervous awaiting my answer. At least one thing hadn’t changed: I was still her older sister and, like old times, her ticket to where she wanted to go.

  I sat back down on the bed, watching her as she attempted to look uninterested, twisting her brown and gold hair into a messy ponytail. It was a new and scary feeling to be jealous of her. She had always been the baby in my eyes, so sweet, and the bright spot in my life in this house. I had been proud of her when she replaced me as captain of the soccer team and I’d had to watch from the sidelines, the team moving in unison like a flock of birds. Watching them never grew old. It was like they had eyes in the back of their heads, they were so in tune with each other’s movements and unspoken signals. I missed it so much, it almost killed me—that beautiful feeling of connection and flow. It had been exchanged for the constant, maddening feeling that something essential was missing.

  I was ready to have every privilege restored to us in our next place, to not have to hold back in any way, to stop feeling the emptiness. I never blamed Liv. She had felt guilty, but she’d had to listen to her mother. I saved my resentment for Victoria, though I tried, with every ounce of my being, to hide it.

  Liv was waiting. She knew I couldn’t say no to her. I didn’t think I ever had. But my biggest reason for agreeing to go on this ill-conceived excursion was my absolute confidence that Liv would be scared off when she saw Angus, Lord of the Lost Kids, in his element.

  “What time do you want to leave?”

  Happy now that she was getting what she wanted, Liv let out a breath and smiled.

  “Soon, maybe. It’s getting hot.” That was the understatement of the year. “Is that a new tattoo?” Liv moved closer to me and pointed to the vine lacing itself across my upper chest.

  “Yes, sort of new.”

  She nodded. “It’s beautiful.”

  “Thank you. I’ll have to get rid of it soon enough, I guess. Ten more months.” I could tell she noted my sudden coldness. I didn’t like that she was idly picking up things on my desk.

  Liv consulted the rose-gold Rolex Daytona on her tan wrist. “Meet you in what? Fifteen minutes downstairs?”

  I nodded.

  “Hey,” she said over her shoulder as she left my room. “I’m excited to hang out. We never see each other anymore.”

  I smiled halfheartedly. As soon as she was gone, I walked over to what she had been fiddling with, hoping it wasn’t anything I hadn’t wanted her to see.

  It was a loose photo of Angus. I was frightened by the sharpness of my anger. Liv clearly knew that Angus and I were close, and she was pursuing her little crush anyway. But then, why wouldn’t she? Regardless of her reluctance, what was mine always became hers. It was all she knew. But now she seemed to expect it.

  A few months ago I would have thought Liv’s fascination with Angus was cute—one more thing that showed she looked up to me, much to my stepmother’s anxiety. Now, considering this womanly and newly empowered Liv, it wasn’t funny anymore. The question was, what was Angus thinking about her? Even if he didn’t see her as a little girl anymore, surely he wouldn’t dare go near her, out of fear of Novak? There was no way forward. Even for Angus.

  It was the first time Liv had ever disappointed me. I felt the loss of the little girl who wouldn’t be coming back.

  I closed my bedroom door softly behind me, leather tote slung over one shoulder. I hesitated, wondering if I should go back and change.

  Even though I was inside the house, I wore my large black sunglasses so Liv wouldn’t see my eyes. Already I knew putting on the black string bikini was the wrong move. It had somehow ended up in my drawer, and I’d never before had the guts to wear something so tiny. What had felt like an I-don’t-care moment a minute ago now felt somehow desperate.

  I passed the gallery of photos on the wall of the hallway that spanned the entire length of the upstairs. So many of them were of Victoria and my father that it felt forced, as if Victoria wanted to prove Novak was in love with her, that they were as connected as all the other couples in our group. In some of the photos, they were so young. My father had been with someone else before Victoria, as evidenced by my existence, but in our culture that was atypical. We paired off early—in our
late teens or very early twenties—and stayed together for life. I was at that age now. Almost all of us kids were. Which made this Angus and Liv thing even more irritating.

  The same photo always caught my attention, as if it wanted to remind me on a daily basis of the reality of my situation. It was one of the few of Victoria, my sister, and me. My sister sat to the side, one of her chubby four-year-old hands at ease on Victoria’s knee. I was almost six in the picture and I seemed to be sitting in Victoria’s lap. My face was blank. A young Victoria was looking down, her eyelashes demurely on her cheeks, a curtain of long hair casting a shadow on her face.

  The picture was hung because it looked like we were a happy family, outside on the lawn, Liv and I with musical instruments in our little hands. What I actually remembered was the staging of the photo and Victoria’s hands under my armpits, aggressively trying to reposition me on the other side of her. For me there was never any touching her, let alone sitting in her lap. At some point I realized why my presence was hard for her. She had been left to raise Novak’s daughter by a rival, I presumed. But I must have been confused at that age, not understanding why she treated me differently from Liv. As much as I’d tried to be an easy guest in her home, Victoria never softened. At the time the photo was taken, we had been in Austin for five years. All of Liv’s life and all but the beginning of mine.

  I headed down the floating staircase, the living room below looking sparse and grand at the same time—glass, cool stone, beautiful furniture of various luxurious textures. The living room had a retractable glass wall that opened onto a terrace, the first of three tiered levels of garden leading down to the lake. The basement housed the underground garage and basketball court. At the western part of the property, near the guesthouse, was a more contemporary-style glass-and-steel gym. Most spectacular was how the house itself had a wing that reached almost to the water and connected to a boat garage, making the boats as accessible as the cars.

  I wound my way through the other spacious, hushed rooms painted in natural shades and decorated with orchids. I paused midstep when I registered his presence a few seconds before I saw him. When I entered the kitchen, there stood the king.

  Once I made the joke that seeing my father was like spotting an elusive elk. It was rare and exciting and you never knew when it was going to happen. Liv didn’t get it, or at least she didn’t think it was funny.

  Since we ran cooler as a whole, I knew the show of affection and exuberance now taking place was for the housekeeper’s benefit—a simulation of an everyday family’s interactions. Still, I wished I could take a picture. My youthful, handsome dad, in running clothes, bent down to greet Liv with a hug, their golden-brown heads resting together as he gave her a squeeze. He’d just come in from a run, and they were laughing about him getting her sweaty, their identical blue eyes showing genuine fondness for each other. Both of us were daddy’s girls.

  I didn’t realize I’d stopped in my tracks to look at them until I felt someone else in the room watching me watch them. I caught Victoria’s eye. I dropped my gaze.

  “Hey, doll!” Novak came over to me and wrapped his arms around me too, instantly making every worry disappear. I lived for the infrequent moments when he acted not just like a leader but like a dad.

  Even though Novak had a slight build, he was wiry and strong. I didn’t even care that he was sweaty from his run. And of course he wouldn’t really think we’d mind. He was too used to being adored by all of us. He was the sun. For a second I lost myself in this uncommon hug. He pulled away first and began to loudly chug a green energy drink, the only thing he ever consumed. He raked a hand through his hair. The curls were cut short but still there. It was hard to believe he was my father when he looked like he was twenty-five.

  I felt an imperceptible exchange between Victoria and Novak. Lydia, the latest in the line of short-term housekeepers, had left the kitchen, and you could feel a bit of the act fall away. I knew the calm that replaced it would look eerie to outsiders.

  “Where’ve you been, Dad?” Liv asked. As a precaution, Liv continued to speak in a measured tone of voice instead of taking the easier route—speaking quickly and just above a whisper.

  “Just working my ass off.”

  I knew we were alone, but it was so unusual, I felt like looking behind me for the people who almost always surrounded Novak. There were always members from our group around him, even at home. And when he wasn’t home, they were here too. We were all related to one another and we instinctively preferred to be together, weaving in and out of each other’s homes as if living in mansions separated from one another was an unnatural lifestyle.

  I glanced up at Victoria, who was hovering. There was the Victoria, Dad, and Liv family unit, and then there was the Dad, Liv, and me unit. The second was never given a chance to breathe. Victoria was annoyed I’d interrupted her time to enjoy her family. I knew it was my place to stay away at moments like these, and I would have if I had been paying attention.

  “I’ve got to go, gals.” Novak lowered his face to Liv’s for a quick kiss and then walked over to me. Same thing.

  “Do you need me today?” Victoria asked. I wondered if he realized he hadn’t kissed her as well.

  “No.” Novak was already busy checking his phone.

  “My dad wants a meeting,” she said. Novak had been voted in as leader—already a legend for being the youngest we’d ever had—replacing Victoria’s father soon after we’d arrived in Austin.

  Novak didn’t look up. “It’s not a democracy,” he joked. It was in fact a democracy. Or it used to be, with everyone’s needs equally considered. But if Victor had been a traditional leader, Novak was more like a shaman. He had a small inner circle, but these days it was clearly just Novak calling the shots.

  Novak’s leadership had been divisive. On the one hand, by making us rich, he’d bought us a kind of security we’d never had before. On the other, we found ourselves living further than ever from how we used to live. According to stories, we had once been a communal culture of what’s mine is yours, with no emphasis placed on acquiring personal possessions.

  “He—”

  “I can’t stop everything to have fifty council sessions a month like he had.” Novak looked up at Victoria when he said this, and she stared back for a millisecond before breaking eye contact first.

  “Do you really have to leave? You just got here!” A whine crept into Liv’s voice.

  “I’ll see you tonight,” he said.

  We knew it was unlikely.

  Liv nodded. For some reason I felt sad, and a flash of the old protectiveness for Liv. It was never enough. His presence and the energy he exuded made you want more. Always more.

  It was what got him in trouble with the people he interfaced with at work. Among us kids there was speculation that maybe Novak had the power to affect people’s emotional states and that’s why we felt almost high in his presence. The outsiders who weren’t too shy to interact with him could too easily become infatuated with him, his intense focus making them feel like the center of the world. Novak came across as deferential and unwaveringly polite to anyone he had dealings with, which was a heady combination in someone so powerful and attractive.

  Novak was our liaison to the outside world, but he was maybe too good at it, because now the business world and admirers in general followed his every move. The SEC had been plaguing him now for the past several months.

  With Novak gone we were left alone in the kitchen with Victoria, a different energy completely. “Where are you going?” she asked. Dammit.

  Dressed in an expensive tunic she wore as a dress, Liv was all legs. She opened the glass door of the refrigerator and grabbed a few bottles of water. Except for the fruit, breakfast sat untouched on the table. Presumably Victoria had explained our plant-based diet to the housekeeper, but it had probably seemed so unsustainable, it went ignored. I wondered if anyone else was always hungry like me.

  Victoria walked over to Liv and tou
ched her sleeve almost like she was holding on. Victoria was trained as a doctor, but she had never practiced. Instead she waited around, bored, like everyone else in the group, until Novak called on her for her area of expertise to consult on his grand plan. Our goal was to relocate somewhere that would be environmentally more protected and less directly impacted by the climate change that was worsening every year. Not to mention the other man-made messes that were inarguably coming home to roost. Novak knew future wars would be fought over water, just like wars were fought over oil now. None of us felt bad about Novak’s plan to pump water for our sole use, not when outsiders had first disturbed our way of life, not when they had almost exterminated us.

  The teens in our group never stopped hearing how our generation was lazy in comparison with previous ones, that we lacked any sense of urgency about contributing to the group’s well-being. Maybe it was because we had a sense of futility about the future. We were the last generation. Not one child had been born to the group in sixteen years. None of the couples in their twenties and thirties had children. Liv had been the last, and it was a never-ending source of grief.

  The childless couples and even the adults my parents’ age had done everything they could and had kept trying in spite of Novak’s vision, which had predicted it would be futile. From a pure biological standpoint, the group, now numbering fewer than sixty, had stayed too insular. The idea of diluting our DNA wasn’t an option anyone ever discussed. It seemed we would rather die out. Otherwise, what would all this have been for—the decades of running, the hiding in plain sight? Everything had been in the name of staying together in spite of the odds.

  My eyes flew to Victoria when she loudly placed a water glass on the countertop. Victoria was tall—in heels, taller than my dad—her hair a darker shade of brown than Liv’s. She always kept her lips bare, even though the rest of her face was made up. It suited her to appear always a little edgy and not just a little severe. Today she was dressed in a tight black dress worth thousands.