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  Victoria and I were both experts at wiping our faces of emotion when we entered each other’s company. So proud of her daughter, she melted every time she laid eyes on the younger, almost-identical version of herself. Since I looked nothing like my dad or Liv except for the color of my eyes, I knew I must take after my mother. Whoever she was.

  I assumed my birth mother had not been allowed to relocate with the rest of the group when we moved to Austin, that maybe there was truth to the rumor that not everyone had made the cut. I wondered if Victoria had something to do with it. That was the best explanation I could come up with. To keep our identities as protected as possible, everyone was prohibited from talking about the past, even among ourselves.

  Years ago, I realized I would never learn who my mother was or why the older members of the group seemed to avoid meeting my eyes. My whole life I had always exceeded expectations, even for our people, but I’d never been praised for it. I’d had to come to terms with never having answers. It was either that or go crazy.

  When I’d hugged my dad, I’d left my sunglasses on the counter next to where Victoria now stood. I debated leaving them, but the sun would hurt my eyes and I’d lose that layer of protection that would hide my expression. I left my position behind Liv and casually grabbed my sunglasses from the marble surface where Victoria was leaning. She straightened at my proximity and must have seen down my black tank top.

  “Why are you wearing my bathing suit?” she asked acidly.

  “It was in my drawer. I thought it was Liv’s.” Wrong thing to say, I realized too late. She’d think I was saying she was too old to wear it. “I can change.”

  “No,” she said flatly. The resentment aimed at me was subtle, but I was sensitive enough to pick it up. It vanished as quickly as it flared. “Keep it.”

  Shaken, I walked back to my sister. In spite of our distance this summer, Liv was still my safety in this house.

  “Where are you going?” Victoria asked again, as if the thought of Liv and me going somewhere together was completly unacceptable.

  “I’m dropping Julia off at Ellis’s, and I’m going to Emma’s. To swim,” Liv lied.

  She had actually lied. The old Liv wouldn’t have bought into that. I felt like someone had just kicked me in the chest. Even worse, Victoria knew Liv was lying. The trickle-down of that would only land on me.

  “Bye, Mom.” Liv quickly kissed her cheek. Victoria looked back at Liv, clearly not satisfied. “Come back by three. Remember, I’m taking you to Grandma’s tonight.” I wasn’t included in that plan.

  There was a moment of silence, and then Liv and I made our way to the elevator. When the doors opened into the garage, Liv automatically walked over to the black Range Rover without asking me first. She wanted to drive her new car. It was a change for me to ride in the passenger’s seat.

  For a second it seemed as though Liv was going to say something. I stared straight ahead. Liv apparently decided against it.

  When she started the car, the music came on loud, jolting us both, but she didn’t bother to turn it down. It made for good filler.

  We wound out of our neighborhood, which was lush with greenery and hanging vines, then down the curves with water views and large homes hidden behind tall trees and massive gates. At the base of Scenic Drive, the car was spit out onto flat, hot pavement.

  The first time I saw him, he had on a battered baseball hat and Ray-Bans. I noticed him getting out of an old white Ford Explorer close to where we’d parked, in the dusty lot at Barton Springs. I didn’t know why I was immediately drawn to him. I was always vaguely and automatically scanning my surroundings—especially in public, where there was excessive interest in us.

  He saw us almost instantly, turning his head, along with the other people in the parking lot who were now staring. As soon as Liv exited the car, everyone tried to place her, wondering if she was some kind of celebrity hiding behind her sunglasses. Teenagers typically didn’t look like her or pull up in a car like that.

  I felt his eyes on me, but, unlike everyone else, his gaze didn’t switch back to Liv. As we walked to the entrance, I was aware of how I looked beside her. Short and thin next to her tall curvaceousness, I was all hard exterior with my tattoos, my chin-length black bob, my skin pale against my black clothing. In contrast Liv was a natural beauty, dressed in all white, her hair cascading down her back. Self-consciously I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, then kicked myself for allowing an outsider to make me feel self-conscious.

  It wasn’t just him, I told myself. I wasn’t used to all this public gawking. It would be better when summer ended and we went back to school on Monday. It would keep Angus from wanting to push the envelope.

  Involuntarily, I turned my head to look at the boy again as he trailed us to the admissions booth. He was over six feet tall and had dark-brown, almost-black hair. There was something in how he carried himself—a type of confidence that made him immediately eye-catching. Confidence meets I-don’t-give-a-shit meets calm. Standing right behind me in the long line waiting to pay, he was acutely aware of us. I could feel it. I wondered if I was making it up, but I thought his attention was wholly directed toward me.

  So softly that it was impossible for anyone else to hear, Liv said, “He smells good,” referring to our usual revulsion at the scent of outsiders. I knew who she was talking about. I’d noticed it too.

  “It’s probably his sunscreen,” I said.

  I glanced over my shoulder and saw him deftly juggle his things from one arm to the other in order to take his phone from his pocket. The glass face of the phone had a long crack in it, and a picture of Johnny Cash on the lock screen. He checked it quickly before putting the phone back in his pocket, vaguely annoyed. He wasn’t just looking at the time. I could tell he was waiting for a call or text that hadn’t come. I felt him bring his focus back to me. I didn’t know why he made me feel so self-aware when usually I was a master at blocking people out. At least watching him was distracting me from the nearby crowd.

  Once Liv and I paid at the booth and walked through the entrance, it was like stepping into a different world smack in the middle of the city. Shaded by pecan trees and dotted with towels and chairs, the lawn sloped steeply down to the sunlit water. The din of the shouting swimmers and intermittent spring of the diving board carried up the hill. The bathhouse was on the opposite side of the water, that lawn already filling with a different kind of group—mostly people with kids.

  It was around noon and not crazy-crowded yet. It was ridiculously hot already. As Liv and I stood at the top of the grassy hill, deciding where to sit, I realized everyone in the vicinity was looking in the same direction.

  The Lost Kids were here. It was like a haze of gold surrounded them—partially because of their coloring, but also because they were half in the sunlight and half in the dappled shade beneath the trees. It was jarring to see them together in public like this. With their almost identically colored hair that nearly matched their skin tone, the seven boys looked like an otherworldly grouping of models posed as gorgeous young skate rats. They were all very tall and skinny, reminding me of the ectomorph cross-country runners I’d see running in packs, except that my friends’ chests and backs were covered in tattoos. The boys acted like they were in their own private world, but it was far too obvious who they were.

  Usually we were so careful to go out alone or in small groups so the public would see just one or two people with tan skin and perfect features. I could feel everyone around us begin to realize who the girl next to me was. And now they were looking at me too, wondering how I could be with her when I didn’t match.

  People were using their phones to take pictures and to text, presumably about the sighting. Angus and the boys stood on the slope, shoving one another, blatantly oblivious to the stares and the space they were taking up.

  Liv, thankfully, didn’t walk over to the Lost Kids. She was too wary. Then I saw Liv’s friends on a different section of the lawn—another grou
p of seven teens, looking like royals trying to relax at a public pool. They waved her over, but Liv breezed down to the central part of the wet, green hill, putting us squarely between the A-group and the Lost Kids. No way would I have come if I’d known there would be this many of us in public. This wasn’t allowed.

  “Did you invite George?” I asked.

  “No. I told Emma I was coming. I can’t believe they’re here.”

  “He’s trying to protect you. I heard you’re dating him.”

  Liv laughed a whatever laugh.

  “This is making me nervous,” I stated flatly. “All of us shouldn’t be here.”

  I shook out the turquoise hand-woven cotton blanket that had no business being on the ground and Liv sat down, lounging back on her elbows. I sank down next to her, wanting to get out of the crowd’s line of vision.

  Angus was watching us. I could sense his smirk from fifty feet away. Shirtless, with shorts falling low on his hips, he had no body fat, just a lot of lean, defined muscle. He turned and I saw the telltale wing tattoo that spanned his entire back. I forgot what meaning it had at the time—freedom, I guess—but it reminded me of a fallen angel. And he definitely looked like an angel gone bad, with his curls and that fierce gaze in his icy blue eyes. Actually, he looked a lot like my dad.

  “You can go sit with them if you want,” I said to Liv, gesturing with my chin to her friends. The schism between the two groups of kids—the haves and the have-nots—was stark. Novak’s decision to form two groups had been disastrous for our friendships. It was too painful for us Lost Kids to be around the others, knowing they had to keep secrets from us. And they were scared off by our derision, which was mostly fueled by our jealousy.

  But Liv was looking at Angus as she said, “No, they can come to us.” I couldn’t believe she actually thought I was telling her to go to my friends. She’s young, I kept reminding myself, making excuses for her self-centeredness.

  Sweat trickled down my back. I had a metallic feeling in the back of my throat—I was beginning to recognize this as one of the signs that the rash was coming on. I needed to leave. I didn’t want to be the one blamed for bringing my sister here. There was bad energy in the air. The boys continued to draw attention to themselves, doing neat backflips they shouldn’t all have been able to manage.

  If I had been smart, I would have stood up right then and driven home. Unfortunately a much bigger part of me wanted to stay, in order to stand in the way of whatever might have been happening between Liv and Angus.

  Angus lit a cigarette, and I immediately looked over at the nearest lifeguard. I saw the lifeguard quickly look away, pretending not to see the infraction. He didn’t want to approach. It felt like everyone in the park was holding their breath—partially out of wonder and partially from tension. I knew that in their minds it wasn’t clear what our group might do next.

  Liv angled her body to look behind us. Craning her neck, she stared at something. “What?” I asked, and turned around.

  I had been so busy freaking out at the heat and the noise and the spectacle that I hadn’t noticed where the boy from the parking lot had landed. He’d spread out his beach towel just behind us, but he was ignoring us completely. The only personal items around him were a bottle of smartwater, a phone, and a paperback book. He had the aura of someone who wanted to be alone. I was wondering if he was about my age—seventeen or eighteen—when he obliged me by removing his hat and sunglasses, and I could see my guess had to be close. Then, almost violently, he whipped his shirt off over his head. Balling it up, he stuck it behind him where he could use it as a pillow, grabbed his hat and sunglasses, putting them back on before he lay down on his towel, and reached for his book. Not even a glance our way, though I’m sure he could tell we were both openly staring. Now that he had his shirt off, I looked a second longer than I should have.

  I was embarrassed and wanted to cover. I didn’t think I’d ever wanted to really look at an outsider before. At least in that way.

  Liv seemed fascinated also. “What do you think his story is?” she asked, finally facing forward.

  “I don’t know—some guy here feeling sorry for himself. He’s wondering why his girlfriend hasn’t called.” I was just trying to sound dismissive, but as soon as it came out I knew with certainty it was true. I knew his girlfriend was cheating on him at this very moment. And that he was far too good for her.

  Liv laughed at that.

  “Since when do you care about outsiders?” I asked her, wanting to blow it off.

  She shrugged. “Since never.” But she turned back around again and stared. Suddenly she looked like she was actually about to call out to him.

  “Liv!” I said quickly.

  “What?” she asked, annoyed, as if I’d just interrupted something.

  “Emma’s trying to get your attention.” We could feel Emma and the other swan-like girls staring Liv down from across the substantial distance.

  Liv looked over in her best friend’s direction but made no move to get up. Luckily I’d managed to distract her, and she was facing the water again. Her persistent interest in the person behind us was peculiar.

  We both trained our eyes back on the boys.

  I saw Ellis take a pull from a flask, in full view of the roving lifeguard now swiftly walking toward them. My eye caught the flash of silver traveling from one point in the circle of boys to another, but by the time the lifeguard approached, there was no sign anyone had been drinking anything. The lifeguard looked baffled, probably wondering if he was crazy and had never seen a flask to begin with. The boys blatantly laughed in his face, and the lifeguard instinctively backed away.

  “Hey, man.” It was the boy behind us talking on his phone, his voice low and gravelly. I realized with a shock that if we could hear him, he could hear us. Liv and I had automatically switched to the way we spoke to one another in public, like we were supposed to. He’d most likely heard everything we had said, about a girlfriend, about “outsiders.” We were in a pocket where sound carried perfectly. It sounded like he was speaking directly to us.

  Liv and I both listened. It was impossible not to. He spoke quietly, probably assuming—correctly—that we were eavesdropping.

  “What’s up?” Pause. “I forgot. Sorry. I can be there in thirty minutes.” I surreptitiously looked behind me and saw him, phone in hand, head bent and looking at the ground, trying to be as private as possible. Then, reluctantly, he said, “Barton Springs. No, by myself.” It was like he was shy about revealing his location and that he’d come alone. “I don’t know. I haven’t been here since I came back….I’ll tell you next time. I gotta go—my phone’s about to die. I have one of your rackets in the car. Okay. Later.”

  He checked his phone again before tossing it aside. He picked up his book, All the King’s Men, and acted like he wanted to shut out everything around him for just a few more minutes. After a second he gave up and closed it. I found myself wondering where he’d just come back from. I knew that had been his brother on the phone.

  I knew information about this person. That had never happened before. My first instinct was to blow it off as a fluke. I mostly felt weak that some regular person had broken through the barrier I was so good at maintaining between outsiders and myself. Why him?

  All of us had better senses than outsiders. Just like we were faster, stronger, and smarter than regular people. We were also healthier and lived longer. It had always been a fact of life that we were biologically different—better—and that this had to be kept secret.

  We were also more perceptive. English felt like a secondary mode of communication. We were more like other animals—constantly reading body language for unspoken signals and information. Outsiders had no idea what they were always unconsciously conveying. In turn we maintained such a state of calm that it made it almost impossible for us to read one another.

  Our contact with outsiders was typically brief and minimal—with teachers, housekeepers, restaurant servers—but if
we wanted to we could tell you things about them that were lost on most people. We knew when a stranger hadn’t slept or was distracted, angry, in love. The rhythm of their heartbeat and their scent also gave details about them away. Mostly we’d been taught to block those signals out. Novak said outsiders were a bad influence—caught in their never-ending cycles of fear and desire.

  But this was different for me. I was positive that what I knew about this person was correct. Jesus. I didn’t know if Novak could read anyone’s mind, if the other adults could….It felt hard to believe it was commonplace.

  For the next several minutes, I tried to refocus on what was happening around me—on pretty, upstanding George staring at Liv like he owned her, on Angus, on needing to get Liv out of here.

  “Let’s just relax. We’re making people nervous.” The exact moment I said it to Liv, it was like the boy behind me held up a hand and asked for it all to stop. All of the tension I felt, he was feeling too.

  I instinctively sat up and turned to him. I knew I was looking at him like I was asking him a question. He didn’t respond like I was crazy. He took off his sunglasses as if his instinct was to let me see him. Just the two of us existed at that moment. I had never felt anything like it—as if he were looking into me and I suddenly wanted him to.

  He knew who we were. He’d heard about us before. He’d picked up on my calling him an outsider. He also thought we were elitists, and he was offended that I thought he was a loser waiting for his girlfriend to call. He’d only wanted to get away from his life for a few hours, and he disliked the keyed-up atmosphere we brought with us.

  And he thought I was so incredibly beautiful.

  I could only describe it as recognition. I knew him even though I didn’t know who he was. And he felt it too. It was the oddest, most right moment of my life.

  Liv broke the moment. “Here comes Angus.” And then the feeling was gone. I turned my back on whatever was happening, hoping my expression conveyed that he was no longer worth my time. I wanted no part of it. It was the last thing I needed right now.