It’s true that we’re sort of famous. Or infamous. The Hayes sisters, they call us, like one collective unit. We all have varying shades of red and reddish-blond hair that our parents must have predicted, probably because my mother and all her siblings have bright red hair. My parents named us Scarlett, Rose, Ginger and Ruby. Scarlett’s hair is deep auburn like my mother’s, Rose’s is copper-colored, Gigi’s is reddish-gold with sun-bleached highlights and mine is strawberry blond. We all have unusual amber-colored eyes—almost yellow in mine and Gi’s case—and apparently the kind of looks that get attention. Whenever we walk down the street, people stare. Being eighteen and just released from jail a.k.a boarding school, I’ve been the least visible, I guess you could say. So I haven’t really had a chance to find out about all that. To test it.
And I do: I feel like testing it. I want to taste every ounce of my new freedom. I don’t plan on wasting a single minute of it and I can’t wait to get started.
“You’re free!” yells Gigi as I run down the hallway towards my room.
Don’t I know it.
I can hear Momma mumble something about getting a job, but that can wait. I’ve got other plans for the rest of my afternoon.
I get to the bedroom I share with Gi and strip off my worn uniform, shoving it into a bag I plan on burning the very first chance I get.
Rummaging through Gigi’s drawers, I can’t find what I’m looking for: two pieces that match. God knows I’m not wearing that awful bathing suit they gave us at boarding school, which may as well be a chastity belt. So I go up the back staircase into Rose’s room, which she has all to herself now that Scarlett has moved out.
“Rose?” I knock softly. “It’s me.”
I don’t bother waiting for her to answer. She’s on her bed, scrolling on her phone. “Hi, Ruby.”
A song’s playing on her speaker. It’s one I’ve heard before, on the radio when Gi picked me up to go to the clinic a few weeks ago. You’re my wild, wild girl and I know what you like. Let’s go for a ride on a hot summer night. Got you in my arms, babe, feels so good and so right. I’ll hold you close all the hot summer night.
Whoever the singer is, he’s got a good voice. The tune is equal parts haunting and hot, somehow. It sticks with you in a way you can feel.
Buying myself a phone is priority number one. It’s basically cruel and unusual punishment in this day and age to deprive us of something so essential. I’m eighteen years old and I’ve never in my life had my own phone. Which is ridiculous. Of course we weren’t allowed one at school. Phones are windows into the world, luring us to the dark side, of vanity and sin and sex.
Secretly, I can’t wait to start sinning. “Has he called yet?”
“No. Asshole.” Rose’s boyfriend is a musician. He’s on the road all the time and he doesn’t always have time to keep in touch.
My two oldest sisters have a way of inviting a whole lot of drama into their lives. Not me. I’ve got a plan and I’m sticking to it, no matter what. Daddy used to call me determined and I guess that’s one word for it. There’s more to it than that, though. They say I’m a dreamer but the thing is, to me my destiny feels like a sure thing. It just does. I know where I’m going and I know exactly what I need to do to get there. I’ll make my way to the city, start auditioning and sending out songs. I’ll get myself heard by the right people. Everyone says it’s too competitive but I know I’m good enough. I can feel the deep pool of my own grit like molten fire, waiting and mixing there, boiling over.
“I’m sure he’ll call today.” I help myself to Rose’s closet, and Scarlett’s. “I need a bikini.” I finally find a white matching set. Rose is distracted so I strip off and try it on in front of her mirror. It’s skimpy as hell—basically three tiny, strategically-placed triangles that barely cover me—but who cares, it’s not like anyone’s going to see me in it. Then I hold up one of Rose’s sundresses. “Can I borrow this?”
“No.”
I slip the sundress over my head. “I’ll see you a little later. Don’t worry about it, Rose. He’ll call soon.”
“Hey, I said you couldn’t—”
“I won’t get it dirty,” I tell her as I slip out the door.
“Ruby!”
Growing up with three sisters, we argue over clothes all the time. It’s not like she hasn’t stolen everything I own at least five times.
I head down the stairs and grab my leather bag that has all my music in it. Then I make a bee line for the screen door.
“We need to talk about your summer job, young lady,” Momma starts.
“Ruby, there’s a letter here from Chase,” says Gi.
I go into the kitchen, grab the letter that’s sitting on the kitchen table, kiss Momma on the cheek and grab an apple from the fruit bowl. “I’ll get a job tomorrow,” I tell her. “Today, I’m going for a swim.”
“That pond is private property,” Momma points out. I’ll give her points for consistency. She says that every single time. But no one’s lived on the farm next door to ours for as long as I’ve been away at boarding school. I figure their swimming pond is fair game. Not to mention their piano, but Momma doesn’t know about that part.
I head out the back door and across our yard, past the sheds. I climb over the wooden fence and make my way across the field. The rolling hills and the treetops stretch out as far as the eye can see.
It’s a beautiful afternoon. Hazy and hot and humid. The kind of day where you can see the dust and the tiny insects, flickering and sun-touched, like lazy unhurried promises floating through the air. As soon as I reach the pond, I peel off my sundress and wade into the sparkling water. It feels amazing on my warm, sweat-dampened skin.
The magnitude of this moment is really starting to sink in. Today is where it all starts. Today’s the day I can start making my own rules and following my own road.
Straight to Nashville.
I stand there thigh-deep, splashing cool water onto my arms. Damn, there really isn’t much to this bikini. I’m spilling out of it. I’ve filled out over the past year and I’m curvier than I used to be. The miniscule shreds of fabric barely cover the parts they’re supposed to cover. If only the nuns could see me now. The thought makes me smile. Sister Louise would have me reciting Hail Marys for an entire week.
Wading further, I let the icy-fresh water rise over my hips. Then I swim out and float there, on my back, appreciating my newfound freedom. It feels so damn good.
The cool, gentle water swirls around me. It’s weirdly … sexy. Like my solitude and my almost-nakedness are triggering new, lusty tendencies. I float, letting it build. Damn. So this is what freedom feels like.
I swim back to shore and climb onto the big flat rock that’s warm from the sun.
I lay there for a while. It’s so damn liberating to be alone. To have no one eagle-eyeing you to make sure your virtue is still in tact or chaperoning your every move.
The reason they kept us locked away so securely is becoming more obvious with each passing moment. Because I can feel myself coming to life, right here under the summer sun. A wildness is taking hold in this perfect blue-sky heat. My body is young and lush. I’m wearing only a few shreds of clothing. I’m wet and hot and fiercely alive, maybe for the first time ever. My skin is all sparkly from the water, lit with jeweled diamond-drops.