Chapter 1

We’ve never actually talked about it, but my dad was an adulterer. My half-sister Rowan was born five weeks after me, but Dad was married to her mom first. As far as Rowan and I could figure, he left her after she became pregnant to marry my mom before I was born. Don’t get me wrong - my dad was a great guy and he loved both of us plenty. I just could never understand growing up why his ex-wife still liked him enough to let Rowan spend the summers with us. Maybe it was about money. I always got the impression that things were tight for them. Rowan always left our place at the end of the summer with new clothes and supplies, ready for a new school year.

We always got along. Maybe full-time siblings - going to the same school and living in the same house year-round - get on each other’s nerves, but Rowan and I only shared summers, so we always wanted to make the most of it. The rest of the year we relied on letters; or, on birthdays, brief long-distance phone calls.

Even a year after Grandma died, we still visited the retirement home sometimes. Dad said it was good for us to hear the stories of another generation, and Grandma had always told us that any visitor, family or not, always cheered up the residents. I was really into colored pencils at the time, and I had just given Mrs. Rivest a sketch of a golden retriever when she made a request: “Jamie, dear, thank you so much! Such a kind young man! But would you mind doing a drawing of your sister for me? She’s such a lovely girl, and you draw so well.”

It wasn’t until I started to draw her that I noticed that Rowan’s body - now twelve years old - had changed since the summer before. The horizontal lines of her shirts had always been parallel, but now they danced with perspective, revealing a more complex shape to her body. Her shorts, too, were no longer the rectangular things of a child, but rather, trapezoids, narrow at the waist. That day her curly black hair was held back by a red bandana covering the top of her head. She had earrings, too - little gold studs that I had never noticed before. Confident curiosity reached out from green eyes behind rectangular gray glasses.

It took me days to finish that first drawing. By the time I was done, Rowan had become my favorite art subject.

Jack’s house was the de facto summer hangout for all of the kids our age. He had a pool table, pinball machine, volleyball net, and every board game known to man. His mom was always around, happy to fix snacks or meals or drive us where ever we wanted to go.

“You don’t think I can do it, do you?” Rowan asked out of nowhere. Six of us were on the seventh hole at the miniature golf course. She had a challenging but doable uphill bank shot into the hole ahead of her.

“Not a chance.” I gave her a charming smile to make sure she knew that my assessment was all in fun.