the school complained about my spotty attendance record. When the cops brought me home for partying, again. When I’d pocket a few pills for Kaylee and Starr and me. Until I kind of started wanting her to care.
At least she stuck around, kept me fed, got me through high school. I have to give her that. But I think if I had as much money as the Bellamys, I’d move somewhere new to settle down. Herron Mills is beautiful, but I’d go somewhere far away from NYC, where no one would have to spend four nights a week in an apartment in the city, where the whole family could stay together.
I fantasize about Nashville, San Diego, Seattle. Any of the cities that might house my father, who got as far away as possible as soon as I started kindergarten. Guess he didn’t want to raise a child in the city either. Or at all.
My gaze skates across the shoreline in front of me, and for a moment, I can’t find Paisley. In my mind’s eye, I see her floating facedown too far out, where the water is dark and choppy, blond hair framing her small head like a halo. The sun is beating down on the umbrella overhead, but I’m suddenly cold. I’d had my eyes locked on her, but then … somewhere around Vicodin and cop cars I must have lost my focus. I’m about to scramble to my feet and start shouting her name when, a few yards to the left, Paisley and her friend burst out of the ocean and onto the beach, holding hands and shrieking. In a minute, they’re kneeling on the sand, sifting for shells. I let out a slow, shaky breath.
“Z?” My head jerks up. A couple feet in front of me, a boy is leaning over, hands propped on knees, head tilted to the side to peer under my umbrella rim. He’s a year or two older than me, scrawny but muscular, wearing red lifeguard trunks with the Herron Mills Guard insignia sewn on in white. He’s blocking my view of Paisley. I roll off my stomach and shove myself up to a sitting position. With Paisley back squarely in my sight, I tug my shades down to the tip of my nose and squint at him.
“Do I know you?” I ask. He’s another redhead, hair buzzed short and freckles dusting his nose. I’m pretty sure I don’t know him.
“Oh.” He takes a step back, then sinks into a squat, one freckled hand pressed to his chest. After a minute, he scrubs it across his face and blows a long stream of air through his lips. “Christ, I’m sorry. I thought you were someone else.” He looks like he’s seen a ghost.
I slip my sunglasses back on and gather my hair in my hands, taming it again with an elastic. “That’s okay. I’m Anna. I’m nannying for the Bellamys this summer?”
“Oh sure,” he says. “That’s my little sister Paisley’s playing with. I’m Kyle.” He extends his hand toward me, and I have to reach out to grasp it. “Welcome to Herron Mills.”
“You’re a guard?” I ask, for lack of anything better to say.
“On my break. I was just raiding the cooler.” He grins, then motions toward Paisley and his family with his chin. “Come on over, I’ll introduce you.”
I grab a gauzy swimsuit cover from my bag and slip it over my shoulders. Paisley has joined Kyle’s family on their recliners a few feet over, and it hits me that I probably should have made a point to introduce myself to her friend’s parents on my own. What if they turned out to be creeps? What if Emilia asked me who Paisley met up with at the beach today, and I didn’t even know her friend’s name? My stomach clenches with the queasy certainty that I got this job by mistake, that despite my best intentions, I have no idea what I’m doing. I’m going to mess this up just like I mess everything up. New, improved scenery, same old Anna.
But before I can shrivel into a puddle of shame, Kyle is introducing me. “Everyone, this is Anna …”
“Cicconi,” I supply. “Paisley’s nanny.”
I smile wide and shake the hands of the Paulson-Gosses, who introduce themselves as Hilary and Elizabeth. Raychel, Paisley’s friend, raises her fist for me to bump.
“Want some?” Paisley extends a bag of sweet potato chips toward me.
“I think those are probably Raychel’s chips,” I say because it sounds like