Peach Sparkling Water
I’d had a crush on the boy next door, Ethan,
for years, but he and my sister, Lily, were
totally into each other. The night our SAT
scores came out, I caught them kissing on the
roof. The summer air was thick and humid,
and I felt like my soul had left my body. Later,
when we ran into each other at college,
Ethan, with a cigarette dangling from his lips,
asked, “Ashley, do you, like, have a thing for
me?” I played dumb. He smirked and said,
“Then maybe don’t look at me like that next
time.”
It all started the afternoon after the SATS.
Mom took the day off to pick Lily and me up.
“Mom, it’s scorching out there,” Lily
complained, though it sounded more like a
playful whine. Mom grinned. “Alright, alright,
I’m taking you two out for a celebratory
dinner.” “Yay, thanks, Mom!” Lily cheered,
hopping into the passenger seat. I, as usual,
slid into the back.
The AC blasted, a welcome relief. I stared out
the window, watching other test–takers
milling about, the stress visibly melting off
their faces. I was always the quiet one, unlike
Lily, who was all sunshine and energy.
Up front, Mom and Lily chatted away. “So,
how’d you do?” Mom asked. “Aced it! I’m
thinking 1500, easy,” Lily chirped, her voice
brimming with confidence. “That’s my girl!”
Mom said, then, as an afterthought, “Ashley? How about you?” “Ashley will definitely get
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into a good college, right?” Lily turned to look
at me. I fidgeted with my jeans and mumbled,
“Yeah.”
Lily was a science whiz. Beautiful, talented
(piano and harp, no less), and always in the
top three of her class. All of that made her
the school’s golden child, adored by teachers
and students alike. People like that rarely look
down. So she still thought I was the same
Ashley from sophomore year, the one who
cried at the drop of a hat and barely scraped
by with a mediocre score on the PSATS. She
had no idea how hard I’d worked these past
two years.
Mom sighed. “A decent college is fine. You’re a humanities student; you can always try for a government job after graduation.” Lily quickly
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changed the subject. “Mom, where are we
eating?” “That Italian place we like,” Mom
said, glancing at the traffic light. “Your Aunt
Sarah will be there too. She’ll be a great
resource for college applications, you know,
with Ethan at State University and all.”
My breath hitched. The sunset outside was a
glorious mess of orange and pink, like a
spilled yolk across the sky. I heard Lily ask
tentatively, “So… will Ethan be there, too?”
“He’s home for the summer,” Mom said,
starting the car. “My, he’s grown into such a
handsome young man.”
Ethan was two years older than us. He was the undisputed king of the neighborhood kids when we were little. Lily, with her bubbly
personality and sweet–talking ways, was
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everyone’s favorite. Relatives would fawn over
her, and she’d flash her cute little smile, eyes
crinkling at the corners. I usually just stood
there, awkwardly. After they’d praised Lily,
they’d look at me and, after a long pause,
manage a “She’s… quiet.”
When we played with the other neighborhood
kids, Lily would jump right in, lighting
firecrackers, catching tadpoles, and playing
marbles. I couldn’t fit in, so I’d sit in the
sandbox with my little plastic bucket, playing
by myself. I don’t remember exactly when, but
one day, Ethan, tired from playing, sat down
next to me, lollipop in his mouth, and watched
- me. Under his gaze, I dug furiously, filling my
bucket until sand overflowed. Ethan frowned,
confused. “What are you doing?” he asked. I
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plunked the bucket down in front of him, my
eyelashes fluttering. “Here,” I stammered. “It’s
all for you.” Ethan was stunned. He looked
almost scared, his lollipop falling out of his
