“Wait. Our room?” Lauren said. “As in one room?”
“Yes, I reserved just the one this time,” Loretta said, glancing back over her shoulder at us with an expression that told us there would be no arguments. “Your parents thought it would be good for the two of you to spend some time together. You know, family time.”
Heat flared through my entire body. How hypocritical could our parents be? Right now, at this very moment, they were literally splitting up our family. They had shipped us off the day after Christmas for the express purpose of dividing their things, boxing up my dad’s stuff, moving him out. Because of them, there would never be family time again. So why did Lauren and I have to suffer?
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Lauren scoffed. “Do you have any idea how hypocritical that is?”
“Lauren!” I scolded under my breath, though I was more annoyed that my sister had the guts to say what I didn’t.
“What? You know it’s true,” Lauren said as we stepped into the elevator. There was a giant wreath hung on the back wall, full of glittering berries and fake cardinals. An instrumental version of “It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas” played through the overhead speakers.
Loretta hit the button for the third floor and sniffed. “Girls, whatever your thoughts on your parents’ current situation, you must understand this is difficult for them, too. They’re both doing the best they can.”
If throwing us out and forcing us to share the same room for a week is the best they can do, then we have serious problems, I thought.
I glanced at Loretta. Maybe I could ask my grandmother if I could come live with her. Maybe if I spent my last year and a half of high school with Loretta, I’d become poised and sophisticated by osmosis. And one day I could take over Evergreen Lodge and run the ice-skating competitions each January and the s’mores-and-scares campfire nights at Halloween, and the movies under the stars on summer weekends.
Loretta looked back at me. “We should get you an appointment at the salon while you’re here, Tess. I don’t know what’s going on with that hair.”
Lauren laughed.
Or maybe not.
* * *
• • •
It wasn’t as if I didn’t want to be more like my sister. In certain ways, anyway. I would have killed to have that seemingly effortless beauty of hers—to look fresh-faced and pretty without a hair out of place at all times—but for me, it was just impossible. Lauren took after our mom, having inherited her gorgeous olive complexion, lustrous dark hair, and natural curves. I, however, looked just like our Irish dad, with skin so white I practically glowed in the dark and very blah dark blond hair. Even on those rare days when I did manage to get my perfectly straight locks to look sleek and healthy before leaving the house, by the time I hit the bathroom after homeroom it was all piece-y and lanky and just hung there. While Lauren walked around looking like she had just stepped off a yacht somewhere in the Greek isles, I looked more like I’d just come from the potato fields and a hard day’s work.
Such was the genetic roulette wheel, I guessed. I mean, we’d learned all about it in bio at the beginning of the year. I knew it was no one’s fault. But that didn’t change the fact that it sucked. And it sucked even harder that my dear old grandmother felt the need to point out my flaws. Especially when those very flaws had come from her side of the family, thank you very much.
“You two get settled and I’ll see you down in the Antelope Room for dinner in a bit.”
“Thanks, Loretta,” I said gamely as our grandmother silently closed the door.
Lauren tossed her suitcase onto the double bed nearer the bathroom and groaned. “I cannot believe we have to share a room for the next week.” She pulled out her phone and started texting. “No offense.”
I rolled my eyes and wheeled my suitcase over to the dresser to start unpacking my clothes. Even when we were on vacation, I liked to feel settled and organized, while Lauren preferred to live out of her suitcase like she was already on her planned gap year in Europe, where she intended to stay at Airbnbs or with any friends lucky enough to be studying abroad freshman year and “live life like it was intended to be lived,” whatever that meant. I couldn’t even imagine flying to a foreign country by myself, let alone cobbling together an itinerary and finding ways to earn money on the fly. I’d started babysitting the second I was old enough and had been stashing away twenty percent of everything I made ever since, saving up for college textbooks. My parents were always moaning and groaning about how paying for college wasn’t about just the tuition but all the living expenses and supplies—especially the books. The way they talked, you’d think textbooks were all made of diamonds and gold.
I had no idea whether my parents’ divorce was going to affect the family’s money situation, or Lauren’s and my college funds, but there was no way I was not going away to school. If there was anything I could do to help make it happen, I would. Traveling the world was all well and good for Lauren, but I was about schedules and goals and ticking off syllabus boxes. I couldn’t wait to be in a place where everyone was focused on learning.
Once I’d gotten everything neatly placed inside the dresser, I zipped up my suitcase again, shoved it in a corner, and turned to gaze out the huge picture window overlooking the grounds. The sun was just setting over the mountains, turning the winter sky the most intense shade of pink I’d ever seen. Just below, dozens of people skated around the frozen lake, little kids grabbing onto parents’ legs, older kids chasing one another and biffing spectacularly. A couple near the center held hands and twirled in a fast circle, using centrifugal force to keep them going. It was all very pretty, so I took a deep breath and attempted to smile. Unfortunately, I couldn’t quite pull it off.
Irritated, I yanked the heavy curtains closed. That was when I spotted a printed schedule on the polished oak desk, a piece of furniture they’d stuck in every room, I supposed because of all the business retreats the lodge hosted. With a glance, I saw that it was a calendar of all the events Loretta had alluded to in the lobby. Everything from a timed snowman-building competition to a snowshoe race. Certain items had been highlighted in green, with a little M written next to them in Loretta’s stiff handwriting. It was a lovely schedule, really—color-coded by age range for each event with the start and end times indicated. Just my kind of document.
“What do you think this means?” I asked, walking over to Lauren’s bed. My sister was now kicked back against the pillows, watching music videos on YouTube.
“What?” Lauren asked without moving her eyes off the screen.
I grabbed her phone—“Hey!” she yelled—and shoved the paper in front of her face.