I stand in front of the closet, looking at how few clothes I have compared to Charlotte. I don’t want to go to this damn barbecue, but she’s kind of psyched for it.

She’s in the shower now, so she won’t see me here tearing my hair out. I lay out my two pairs of jeans. One is getting too small. Red top, Ramones tee shirt that I swim in, white top. Should probably wear something Sandy bought me, don’t want her to feel like she wasted her money.

I need to decide soon. “Fuck,” I hiss.

“What’s wrong?”

I jump about a mile up, right out of my skin. Charlotte. She’s naked, just a plain lavender towel wrapped around her middle. Water is beading on her skin, and her hair is wet and tangled. She looks cute, all big aqua eyes, kind of pathetic like a wet cat.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“S’ok, you didn’t scare me.” A total lie but I don't know what else to say.

I turn back to the closet, embarrassed. She kneels beside her bed and roots around in the bag from the drugstore.

“I’m just looking for my soap. I’ll have a face like a pizza if I don’t use it.”

Her, with acne? I can’t believe that.

She stands up, holding the prescription bag. She spots my shirt. Oh shit. “Oh, Ramones! Cool. You should wear that with the ripped jeans.”

“You think? It’s huge on me.”

“Wear the red underneath it. It’ll be cute.”

Just what I’d been thinking. Just what I’d wanted to wear.

When I look up again Charlotte is gone. I stand there confused, looking at my clothes.

I don’t know who to please. And I don’t know who to be. I want to impress Charlotte, and I want to impress Sandy. I don’t want to deal with all the other people who are gonna be at Kevin’s dumb ass barbecue that I don’t wanna go to anyway.

“Girls?” Sandy calls. “Are you about ready?”

Shit. I drop my shirt and go down the hall. Sandy is at the bottom of the stairs, looking pure in a white sundress, holding a plate of deviled eggs.

“Charlotte just got in the shower, and I - um, didn’t yet.” Such a fucking loser.

She shrugs. “Okay, well, we’re leaving. We’ll meet you over there.”

“Okay.” I guess Kevin’s place is walking distance. Anyway, I’m not horribly worried about getting there right away.

I don’t wanna go. I don’t like Kevin and I don’t want to meet a bunch of other people from school who I’m not gonna like either. And I certainly don’t wanna meet their parents. Sandy looks like she’s about to go play tennis in Beverly Hills and they’re all gonna see right through me, and know exactly where I come from, and hate me.

I stand and look out the window, watch as Johnny backs the mini-van out of the garage. Tears well up in my eyes, but it’s safe for the moment cause Charlotte always takes a good half hour in the shower.

Charlotte. I don’t want to like her so much. I wish my dad was here. In my thoughts I tell him everything. I’m confused, Dad. What should I do, Dad?

In my memory he doesn’t say anything useful, just smiles down on me, touches my hair with his big hand.

I hate this life. Why does my life have to be this way?

I let the tears fall until they hit my chin, and that’s as far as they get. Enough. I wipe my face off, and set out the clothes Charlotte suggested.

.

I feel like I’m going to gack. Charlotte isn’t dressed all that differently from me, in a Living Color tee shirt and shorts. It’s hot and I’m sweating slightly on the way over to Kevin’s. God, did I remember deodorant? Crap, what if I start to smell? I want to double check my pits but I don’t dare do it with Charlotte walking beside me.

She talks about light topics all the way over, almost as if she senses that her light conversation is calming me down. Does she really know that I’m freaking out on the inside? Could she know? I’m pretty good at hiding it, but I’m not really a hundred percent sure about anything.

Kevin’s house is big and sprawls around the corner of two streets. There is a big tree in the front, and a big bay window. I know that because Rona's house had one. From the fenced-in back we can hear lots of laughing. There are cars all around the corner and in the driveway, including Johnny and Sandy’s mini van.

I swallow and wonder if I’m too young to get an ulcer. Margie Devlin had an ulcer and used to worry about it all the time. Maybe if I’d stayed in that house I’d have one too, after a while. I sure would if I was married to Frank. But I don’t want to think about him.

Still, even, some part of me wishes I was back there. I hated it there. But at least I knew exactly what to expect.

That’s crazy, Shane. These people are nice. Calm down.

I follow Charlotte down the path along the driveway. There are some oldies playing, and the sound of a lot of people laughing. I smell hamburgers.

Suddenly an old lady is swooping in on Charlotte, hugging her. Charlotte doesn't seem to mind. Who the hell is this? She just came out of nowhere. The old lady calls her Charlie.

She kind of scares me, kind of reminds me a little of my mom. But Charlotte smiles, so I guess she knows her. The lady has white hair, and she doesn’t even notice me. “C’mon, I brought you something,” she says, “come inside.”

“Be right back,” Char says, throwing me an apologetic look over her shoulder. I stand there, all alone.

Fuck. Okay, where are Sandy and Johnny? I spot Johnny at the other end of the yard, standing with some other guys around the grill. And Sandy, sitting at one of the picnic tables, smiles and waves.

Relief. I’ll go over there.

“Hi Shane.”

I turn around, surprised that someone is talking to me. It’s Kevin. Behind his thick glasses his eyes look huge and blue.

“Oh, hey.”

“Glad you made it,” he smiles.

“We’re here. Charlotte just got dragged inside by someone.” Might as well tell him what he wants to know.

“Yeah, that was my grandma.”

“Oh.” Well that’s good. At least the woman wasn’t a complete stranger.

“So how long have you known Charlotte?”

“Um - ‘bout a week.” I hate questions.

“A week?”

“Yeah, that’s all the longer I’ve been here.”

“Oh, you’re the new foster sister. I thought you were someone from violin camp.”

“You did?” I blurt it out before I can think better of it. Me, one of those kids? That’s crazy. I can’t do anything.

“Yeah, I dunno why. I’m sorry.”

I smile. Not really sure what that means, if it means anything at all. But suddenly Kevin doesn’t seem so bad. I thought he only came up to me cause he wanted to know where Charlotte went. But he’s talking to me.

Maybe I could like him. Maybe I could be normal after all. Charlotte wouldn't mind. I try to look past those glasses.

“So how long have you been with the Greenes?”

“Um, ‘bout two weeks now.”

“That’s cool. My mom and dad aren’t my real parents. They adopted me when I was a baby.”

“Oh.” He doesn’t belong here, either. In my head, he did. How early does it have to be before you can belong? I’m honestly not sure. My head is spinning. “Wow,” I mutter dumbly.

“Yeah.” He says. Okay, maybe I've misjudged him.

“You never met your birth parents?”

“Nope. They couldn’t take care of me.” He doesn't seem to care. How can he not care?

“Oh. That’s too bad.”

“It’s okay. They’re mom and dad to me, you know?” He points to a smiling couple standing over by the grill.

No, I don’t know. I just smile at him.

“Did you?” I notice Charlotte coming out the back door. She meets my eyes, and smiles. I smile back.

“Did I what?”

“Meet your parents.”

“Oh. Yeah. My dad raised me ‘til I was four.” Stop asking me questions, dammit. “He died,” I add, lest he think he ran off and left me or went to jail or any other awful thing.

“Aw. I’m sorry.”

My lips tighten and make a weak effort at a smile, smooth things over. But I don’t think it comes out too well.

“Well you couldn’t be in a nicer family. Charlotte is like seriously the nicest person I’ve ever met.”

Yeah, I’m sure you think so, buddy. He’s so gone for her. I almost pity him.

“Hey guys,” Charlotte says, coming to join us.

“Hey. I was just telling Shane how nice you are.”

“That’s me,” she jokes, batting her eyelashes. I like the way she handles it. She sort of pokes fun at herself.

A kid with blonde streaks in his spiked hair skates up the driveway, right to us. “Sup, dude?” He asks Kevin.

“Not much.”

“They have a big barbecue, damn.” The guy is sort of pretty. His eyes are gray and he glances at me. His nose is kind of turned up. Maybe I could like him. Anyone.

“Sup,” he says to me.

“Not much,” I give him a cool nod he seems to find satisfactory.

“Dan, this is Shane, Shane, Dan.”

“Hey.”

“Sup.” Nope, definitely not feeling it.

“You wanna play Nintendo?” Dan asks Kevin, like we don’t exist.

“Naw man, not right now. Later.”

“Charlotte!”

Charlotte turns around and sees Johnny waving her over. Maybe he doesn’t like her talking to boys. Mr. Rodriguez was like that with Anna. He’d go ballistic if she was even talking to them. Dan starts telling Kevin about some skateboard thing. I take the opportunity to follow Charlotte away from them.

“Aren’t you girls gonna eat?” Johnny asks.

“Yeah, dad, we just got here.”

“Okay,” he says. He has a beer in his hand. He seems pretty mellow. But not drunk. He gives me a fatherly smile and all of a sudden Charlotte is dragging me to the far end of the table. Her hand is tugging my wrist and I stumble after her willingly.

“Oh my god, Shane, you’ve gotta try this.” There are orangish lumps of cooked chicken on a plate with big onion pieces. She grabs a plastic fork and skewers a smallish piece and holds it up to me.

I dunno. It’s awfully orange. But there is a wonderful aroma coming from it.

I take a small bite and a wall of flavor hits me. It’s spicy. But not spicy hot, just... spicy good. I’ve never tasted anything like it before.

“Wow.”

“Isn’t it great? Mrs. Chatterjee makes it in a special oven she got in India. She was my second grade teacher.”

I watch Charlotte as she gets a plate, and collects some potato salad, and some of the orangey chicken. I swallow the rest of the chicken and do the same. Only with macaroni salad instead of potato, and I put my chicken on a roll. I grab a coke and go sit down next to Charlotte and Sandy.

There are some grownups at the table. One is a blonde lady with really tan skin, older than Sandy. She is wearing a necklace with a big turquoise bead in the middle, a bead big enough to be a shooter marble.

“Oh good,” Sandy says, “you girls got something to eat.”

“You and dad act like we’re gonna starve to death,” Charlotte says. She could have said it in a snotty way, but she’s just sweet and calm and perfect. I feel the turquoise lady watching me as I pull back the top of my soda. It’s ice cold and tiny splashes of Coke come up and sprinkle my finger. I take a big drink. The lady is still watching me.

“Dottie, this is Shane, she’s staying with us for a while.”

Dottie the turquoise lady gives me a smile that makes me nervous. “Well, hello Shane.”

“How do you do?” I say, because I’ve heard it said in movies. Nobody bats an eyelash. Charlotte is just eating her potato salad. Good.

Sandy introduced me without using the F-word, how do you like that?

.

“Kim Basinger is like so fucking hot.”

We’re in Kevin’s rec room and Charlotte and I are playing Tetris. The boys are talking about who they think is hot and I really wanna get out of here. Or rather, Dan is talking about who he thinks is hot and Kevin is half-heartedly agreeing. It’s clear to me that he’s trying to keep himself open for Charlotte’s affections, but no one else in this room has a clue.

Speaking of not having a clue: Kevin would be more likely to score with Kim Basinger than with Charlotte.

I feel Charlotte’s hair tickle my knee. She’s leaning toward me. Eyes still on the TV screen. I can smell her hair. Sweet but not too sweet. Salon Selectives, I think. “They’re a couple of horndogs,” she whispers. The boys keep talking, not even the smallest clue that we’re talking about them.

“Dan especially. Kevin’s so into you he won’t agree with Dan about any of those women.”

“Ick,” she says, and smug satisfaction surges through me. It makes me so happy. I don’t want to think about why.

Later, Char and I are walking home. The trees are casting long shadows on the streets. “So who’s that old lady who swooped you into the house the minute we arrived?”

“Oh, that’s Mrs. Hersh. Kevin’s grandma. She’s sort of like my mentor. She plays for the LA Philharmonic.”

“Wow.” Snapped back. That’s major. But she’s not Kevin’s real grandma, is she?

“She’s sweet. I’ve known her since I was two.”

God, all these people here have known each other forever. I will never, ever fit in!

“Kevin was telling me about his real parents.”

“Oh, yeah, I totally forgot that he was adopted.”

What I really want to know, more than anything, is how he managed to pull that off.