I hiss. “I’m not totally brainless. I told him to fight for us, that’s all. I told him it was a mistake, him not coming with us.”
Afton stands up. “Oh my god, Ada.” Her face is an even darker red. Scarlet. Partly chartreuse.
“I know. I knew something wasn’t right with them, but this . . . But we have to act like we don’t know,” I say earnestly. “I’ve been thinking through it all week, and it’s the only way they don’t get divorced. We have to pretend like it didn’t happen.”
She drags a hand through her hair. Paces back and forth a few times. Stops. “No. Ada, listen to me—”
But right then we hear the door inside slam, and Mom’s voice. “Girls?”
Afton and I stare at each other, wide-eyed.
“We’ve got to keep it together,” I say quickly. I’m terrified at what Afton might do right now. What she might say. How she might unravel our entire life. “Just be calm.”
I move to the balcony door and slide it open. “Hi, Mom,” I say so cheerfully that that in itself is suspicious, but I can’t help it. “So you’re back for the day?”
“I am back for the day,” she confirms. “The group is invited to a luau tonight, though.”
I know this. I read the schedule. “That sounds great. Um, Abby and I would love to go, but Afton’s feeling a little under the weather.”
Mom’s eyebrows lift. “Sick?”
“Yes. So we better let her sit out the luau.”
Afton comes in from outside. Her eyes are stony in a way I’ve never seen, like chunks of bluish flint. My heart rate picks up.
Dear God, please don’t let my sister murder my mother in broad daylight.
“Oh, you do look flushed,” Mom says. “Maybe you have what Ada had.”
“Yeah,” I agree. “What I had.”
30
At the luau I find out one key thing about myself: I’m a lightweight when it comes to booze.
I know this because I accidentally (or maybe not so accidentally) pick up my mom’s mai tai instead of my fruity nonalcoholic drink from the table, and chug it down. Thinking it will help me relax and get through this meal in one piece.
A mistake, it turns out.
I think the alcohol hits me so hard because I’m stressed out over what’s just transpired with Afton and worried about what will happen next. Or because I’ve been running around in the sun for half the day without drinking enough water, and I haven’t eaten since breakfast. Or because the mai tai is heavy on the rum, which lands right on my empty stomach.
Whatever the reason, less than ten minutes after I partake of the forbidden mai tai, my brain goes fuzzy, and the world starts to spin.
The worst thing is, Mom is seated next to Billy, who is next to his wife. I try not to stare at them, but I have to look that way to see the stage.
“Are we going to eat a pig?” Abby asks.
“I think so,” I answer, on account of the bunch of shiny-chested men wearing loincloths made of leaves who walk by carrying an entire roasted pig. The smell of pork hits me hot and heavy, and my stomach suddenly feels like it’s filled with rocks.
Mom leans close to Billy and says something in his ear.
He laughs.
She smiles, a white flash of her teeth.
I know something with absolute certainty then: I’m going to be sick.
I lurch out of my chair and toward the restroom. I make it to the entrance to the ladies’ room before I hunch forward and throw up violently into the trash can next to the door.
This has not been my best trip, vomit-wise.
Afterward I feel much better, almost normal, hungry, even, like I’m ready to eat some pig. When I return to the table, Mom has shifted our plates around, moved me over one so she can attend to cutting Abby’s meat, I think.
Which means I’m now sitting between Mom and Billy Wong. And talking to Billy is slightly (and only slightly) less nauseating than watching my mom talk to Billy.
He’s super chatty, too. He keeps asking all these questions about school and my art stuff and how I’m enjoying the trip so far.
“It’s been enlightening,” I say through clenched teeth.
“I know exactly what you mean,” he says.
Somehow, I doubt that.
“I love all of these representations of East Asian art at this hotel,” he says. “I feel like I’m bumping into Buddha at every turn. Speaking of which, I’ve been meaning to ask something.”