After a long moment, Pinky said, into the silence, “What do you think these chairs are doing up here?”
Samir tipped his head back to look at the stars. “Must be where the staff hang out when they need a break from all the rich people. The ones with a death wish, anyway.” He paused, and a cool breeze rolled across the rooftop. “It is kind of nice, though; you were right.”
“What?” Pinky asked.
Samir enunciated his words carefully, turning in her direction. “I said this is nice. You were right.”
“This is nice in the light?” Pinky asked, sounding confused.
Samir spoke up, slowly and loudly, wondering if she really had gotten into the wine. “You. Were. Right.”
She snorted. “Yeah, I heard you the whole time. And anyway, of course I was. Always am,” she finished, sounding smug.
Samir turned to her. There was something about not being able to fully see her face that made it seem like anything they said under this curtain of silver stars didn’t really count. So he decided to be honest and to ask for honesty in return. “Do you really believe that?”
Pinky began to say something swaggery and brash, appeared to reconsider, and then spoke again, quietly. “Not really. I know I make mistakes. A lot of them. And… I do worry about screwing up something that can’t be fixed more than I let on.” She took a breath and Samir waited, sensing there was more. “In fact, I think I’ve pretty much used up all my mom’s goodwill.”
Samir shook his head, even though it was possible Pinky couldn’t see that. “I’ve seen her interacting with you over this last week and a half, and I can tell she still trusts you. She just seems… frustrated. Like she wishes she could get through to you, so you guys could see eye to eye more.”
Pinky snorted. “Yeah, her and me both. But it’s like we’re two alien species from galaxies too far away to even begin making sense to each other.”
“I like your family,” Samir said. “They’ve been so welcoming to me. And it seems like you guys really love each other, underneath it all.”
Pinky glanced at him, rubbing her upper arms like she was cold, her bracelets jangling softly. Maybe she was; the temperature had probably dipped twenty or thirty degrees from the daytime. “You know the big burned-out husk of a barn in the backyard? You commented on it your first day here?”
Samir frowned at the change in topic. “Yeah?”
“Guess who my mom accused of burning it down?”
Samir studied her for a moment. “You?” He paused, remembering how he’d thought she had done it too. A pinprick of guilt poked at his soul. Pinky was many things, but an arsonist she wasn’t. He knew that now.
“Bingo!” She clapped, and the black sparkly polish on her nails glimmered in the dim light. “Why not suspect me, right? I’m the screwup of the family. Why not pile that on me too? And you want to know the worst part? Dolly was the one who did it. She confessed, and her mom told my mom, and still my mom didn’t apologize. Because apparently it’s my fault that I even gave her a reason to suspect me in the first place.” She took a shaky breath and kept going. “And so yeah, you’re right when you say I antagonize her. Because it’s like, even when I don’t, she still finds a way to blame me for stuff. So at least, if it’s me doing it, I’m in control of it. Or it’s justified, right?” Her voice was high and wobbly as she finished, and Samir felt a thump of sympathy for her, at the very raw pain there. “Wow,” she said quietly, a moment later. “I want control too.” She glanced at him and then away. “Who would’ve thought you and I have something in common?” She sniffed.
Samir couldn’t see very well in the dark, but he thought she might be crying or close to it. Argh. If there was one thing he couldn’t just stand by and watch, it was a crying girl. Needing to offer some form of comfort, he reached out in the dimness to find her hand and ended up jabbing her in the arm.
“Ow!” She slapped at his hand. “What are you doing?”
“I’m trying to take your hand,” he said, rubbing his hand where she’d hit him. “It’s hard to see in the dark.”
A quiet snort emanated from her direction. A moment later, her soft hand was in his, fine-boned, her fingers long and graceful. He went still for a moment, his heart thumping for reasons he couldn’t really understand, before he squeezed her hand gently. “I’m sorry,” he said, meaning it. “That really sucks.”
“Yeah. It does.” Pinky took her hand from his, and he felt its loss immediately. “Anyway. Maybe my family has been welcoming to you, and I’m glad. But I don’t always feel the love myself.”
They sat in silence for a minute and then Pinky’s words echoed back to Samir. “So, wait. Dolly burned down the barn? Dolly?”
“I know. It’s hard to believe.”
“But why?” Realization dawned. “Does it have to do with that crowd—the Cash Crab crowd?”
Pinky laughed, a carefree, happy, surprised sound that had Samir smiling too. “Oh man, I gotta remember that one for the next time I see those jerks. Yeah, it was Cash. He brought beer, apparently, and they had lanterns going in there that didn’t get put out.”
“Wow.” Samir whistled. “It’s hard to believe Dolly’s mixed up with someone like him.”
Pinky tried to give him a look, but its effect was blunted in the dark. She’d hate that if she knew. Samir smiled to himself. “She’s not perfect.”
“I know that,” he said. “It’s just… Dolly reminds me of me a little, you know? She seems steady.”
Pinky rolled her eyes and turned to drape her long legs over the arm of her chair. Samir couldn’t help it; his eyes grazed over them. “I’ve noticed.” Quietly, she muttered, “Nice that you both feel the same way about each other.”
“What?” Samir asked, confused.
“Dolly apparently thinks you’re the bee’s knees too.” She smiled, but there was something faltering and vulnerable about it that Samir didn’t understand.
“Right. Well, that’s nice, I guess. At least our plan is working on someone.” There was definitely a pulse of something he wasn’t getting, but he wasn’t sure what it was.
“Oh, um, that’s the other thing. I kind of told Dolly that we’re not really dating.”
Samir sat up. “You what?”
“No, she’s cool with it. She won’t say anything.”
Samir made a face even though he knew she couldn’t see it; he wasn’t thrilled about letting another person in on the secret. Even if that person was steady, calm Dolly. “Are you sure?”
“One hundred percent.”
They lapsed into silence again. Samir tried to listen for the soothing sound of the ocean waves; he was trying really hard not to freak out that Pinky had broken the rules again. Rules were there for a reason. Why would she do that? What would possess—
Okay, no. Soothing ocean. Ahhh. Nice and calm.
A moment later, the chair creaked as Pinky swung her legs back over and sat up straight. Oblivious to Samir’s inner struggle, she wrapped her arms around herself and said, “I wish my mom would open her eyes a little more. Not once did she ask me if there might be an alternative explanation. Not once. It was like it was so easy for her to believe the worst about me.”