Kai: I’m still waiting on that photo. And don’t say u don’t have any good ones again, because I’m not buying it. You’ve been gone for over two months and there’s no way u haven’t taken any good photos yet.
Me: What’s up with the pressure? It’s starting to stress me out.
Kai: You’re stressed out??? Think about how stressed I’ve been. I mean, I haven’t heard anything from u except for a few messages here and there, and for all I know, this might not even be u. Maybe some British dude stole your phone and is texting me, pretending to be u.
Me: Wow, that’s quite the story u came up with.
Kai. Thanks. I’m pretty proud of it myself.
Me: Well, sorry to burst your awesome story bubble, but I’m not a British dude. I’m just plain old Isa.
Kai: Prove it. Send me the most awesome pic you’ve taken so far. That’s the only way I’ll believe u.
“I think he just wants to have a picture of you,” Indigo mutters as she reads the messages from over my shoulder.
“Doubtful.”
Me: Can’t right now. Sorry.
Kai: I’m seriously disappointed. I was holding onto the hope that you’d finally send me one so I could be entertained at this lame-ass party.
Me: First of all, why on earth would a photo of me entertain u? And second, if you’re at a party, why r u bored? Isn’t that why people go to parties? So they can be unbored?
Kai: Unbored? Hmmm . . . I’m not sure what that means.
Me: Hey, don’t mock my awesome made up words. I work hard on them.
Kai: I actually remember that about u. U always tried to convince me that things could be unglittery and unzombie-like. I thought it was funny.
Me: That’s because I’m a funny girl. Duh. I thought u knew that already.
Kai: I did . . . Still do. Now please, send me something fun to look at so I can be unbored.
Me: Only if u say pretty please.
Indigo giggles. “Holy shit, Isa, you’re totally flirting with him.”
My cheeks flush. “I am not.”
“You so are.”
“So am not . . . I’m just a little tipsy.”
“So? You were a little tipsy toward the end of that night we hung out with Nyle and Peter, and I didn’t see you flirting with them.” She gives me an accusing look.
My cheeks blaze with heat as I put the phone away without sending Kai another message. “Well, I know Kai.”
She examines my face intently and I wonder what the hell she sees. “You should ask him for a pic, so I can see what he looks like.”
I shake my head. “No way. Then you’d try to push me to flirt with him even more.”
“Why? Is he hot?”
I shrug. “Sure. I mean, a lot of girls at my school think so.”
“Do you think so?” she presses.
I sigh. “Yeah, but so what? It’s not like he’d ever think the same way about me.”
Indigo targets me with a don’t be silly, Isa look, something she does a lot. “No guy is that obsessed with getting a picture from a girl unless he likes her.”
“Kai doesn’t like me.” I grit my teeth, thinking about how embarrassed he looked when we were spotted walking home together. “Trust me.”
“It seems like he does to me. I think you might just be in denial, because you don’t think there’s any way a guy could ever like you.”
“I don’t think that anymore.” I glance down at my red and black dress and my long, hairless legs. “But Kai hasn’t seen me like this. He only knows the awkward, hairy-legged beast Isa.”
“Just because you shaved your legs and do your hair doesn’t make you a different person,” she says as we near our room. “You’re still the same Isa that came on this trip. You just have a little more confidence now.”
“Okay, so that might be true, but Kai still doesn’t like me.” When she gives me a doubtful look, I give her a brief recap of mine and Kai’s history.
“Maybe he feels bad about blowing you off now. People do change a lot from when they were thirteen,” she says after I’m finished. She uses the keycard to open the room door, but pauses before she walks in. “And it does kind of sound like he’s been trying to be friends with you over the last year or so.”
I start to protest, but my jaw snaps shut as I hear the sound of moaning coming from inside our room. Indigo’s eyes pop wide as the mattress squeaks and we hear Grandma Stephy groan, “Oh, Harry.”
“Oh. My. God.” Indigo rapidly shuts the door and we both sprint off toward the elevators.
Only when the elevators slide shut, does Indigo finally speak again.
“I don’t know what’s worse . . .” She punches the main floor button. “ . . . what we just heard, or the fact Grandma Stephy is getting more action on this trip than either of us.”
Laughter bursts from my lips, and Indigo quickly joins in. It’s the silliest moment ever, but I’ll cherish it forever. It’s because of moments like these that I’ve made it through this trip without sinking into a pit of despair over what I learned about my mother. Yeah, I know that soon I’ll be back home and I’ll have to finally deal with the truth. But I’ll always have these memories, even if some of these moments are really awkward. Through the good, bad, and painfully embarrassing, this trip changed me. Made me stronger. More confident. And hopefully that’ll help me when I get home.
I’m laughing so hard by the time we arrive on the main floor that my ribs actually hurt. “So what do we do now?” I ask as I stumble out into the vacant lobby.
Indigo’s gaze skims the front desk, which the receptionist has abandoned, then her eyes land on the pool sign just to our right.
“I have an idea,” she says, dragging me toward the doors with a wicked glint in her eyes.
“But I don’t have my swimsuit,” I protest, digging my heels into the floor. “And it’s after hours.”
“So what?” She swipes the keycard through the slot then tugs open the door. “There’s no one here to stop us, is there?”
She’s right. There’s not a single person around. But why would there be, when it’s four o’clock in the morning?
The door bangs shut behind us as we step into the faintly lit room that smells like chlorine. The pool gently ripples in front of us, begging to be dipped in.
“What about swimsuits?” I tentatively inch up to the edge, slip off my heels, and dip my toe into the lukewarm water.
“Swimsuits are for amateurs.” She shimmies out of her dress and kicks it off to the side. “Besides, you can’t cross skinny-dipping off your list if you’re wearing a swimsuit.”
“Skinny-dipping isn’t on my list,” I say as she cannonballs into the water, wearing nothing but her underwear and bra.
“The water feels so nice,” she remarks as she floats on top of the water, her hair spread out like a veil.
She looks so relaxed and the water so inviting.
“Oh, what the hell?” I peel off my dress and wade into the water.
She’s right. The water does feel fantastic. And while the moment is relaxing and not as heart-pumping as dancing in a club or kissing guys on Ferris wheels, it’s one I’m glad I lived.
An hour later, we climb out of the pool, dry off, and slip into our dresses. We don’t go back into the room, instead, heading out to the park across the street, where we watch the sunrise.