Just because my dad wasn’t necessarily a large man didn’t mean he wasn’t scary. Chief operating officer at a pharmaceutical company, he was second-in-command at work and had final say on all things concerning the Kaplan family here at home.

That worked okay for my mom and me. Mom knew how to manage his temperaments, sometimes with just a simple word or gesture. She said he had a sense of humor that most people didn’t get. And I just did what he said. He was my dad. He knew better than I did.

Tiffany was a different story. That night, after I’d helped Mom clear the dinner table, I passed by his study on my way to my room. It wasn’t unusual for me to hear them arguing in there, but the mention of my name made me stop.

“Lake deserves a night off,” Tiffany was saying. “More than that. She’s been doing schoolwork all summer.”

“I don’t expect you to understand the value of hard work,” he said calmly. “But your sister does. Don’t interfere.”

“One night at the Fun Zone is hardly interfering,” she said.

Over dinner, Tiffany had mentioned she was taking me to the fair that weekend. Dad had shut it down, worried I was losing focus because I was still reading The Grapes of Wrath after two weeks.

After a weighty silence, my dad said, “Do you think I’m stupid, Tiffany? You honestly expect me to believe you want to spend a Saturday night playing arcade games with your little sister?”

“Yes,” she said. Tiffany acted tough most of the time, but I heard the hurt in her voice.

“God only knows what you really have planned. Probably some unsupervised party at one of your degenerate friends’ houses. The answer is no.”

I frowned. Tiffany didn’t have to be in there sticking up for me. She was telling the truth after all.

“She couldn’t possibly be a better student, so why can’t she have fun, too?” Tiffany asked. “I swear, we’ll go right to Balboa and come home.”

“I don’t believe you. And I tell you something, if I’d ever lied to my father, I would’ve gotten a beating for it.”

“Go ahead, then. Beat me.”

With a gasp, I put my hand on the doorknob to intervene. Fear made me hesitate. I rarely stood up to my dad. I wasn’t even sure how he’d take it if I did.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he responded. “Your mother and I have never lain a hand on you. In fact, we let you do whatever the hell you want. All I’m asking is that you leave your sister alone. She’s on track to get everything she wants, and I’ll kick you out of this house before I let you drag her down.”

“You’re such a jerk,” Tiffany said. “All you care about is Lake. If I left tomorrow, you wouldn’t even notice.”

“I certainly would, but you won’t. You need money and a job to move out. That shouldn’t be too hard, or so one would think.”

My heart beat double-time. I didn’t want Tiffany to leave. She could be difficult, yes, but I liked knowing she was in the next room. I knew no matter what, if I really truly needed her, she’d be there.

I jumped back as Tiffany blew out of the study and upstairs. After a few seconds, her door slammed. I wasn’t sure what to do—comfort her or keep my distance.

Mom appeared from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. “Everything all right?”

“They got in a fight,” I said.

She glanced toward the staircase. “Give your sister some space,” she said, turning back. “She’ll calm down.”

“Lake?” Dad called. “Get in here.”

I had no reason to be nervous, but my mouth went suddenly dry. Tiffany was both stupid and brave for regularly picking fights with my dad. I didn’t consider myself either of those things.

I peered into the study. Dad sat at his desk, tinkering with his new computer. We were only allowed in there when he was home. He had important papers and files that couldn’t be disturbed, and as of a few weeks ago, we were most definitely not to go near the study. He’d purchased the IBM he said was worth more than me. After a month of debate over whether he actually needed a personal computer, he’d let me go with him to pick it out. He’d spent two days just setting it up, and that night, he’d let me watch as he’d moved icons around, opening them, showing me what he’d called “the future in a box.”

I crept into the room.

“When will you get your summer school grades?” he asked, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “It’s unacceptable that we have to wait at all.”

“Not for a couple weeks,” I said. “But I’ll get an A-plus in both classes.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

He breathed in so deeply, his chest expanded. With his exhale, he relaxed back into his leather chair. “That’s my girl. What would I do without you?”

I furrowed my brows. “What do you mean?”

“Just that I don’t think I would’ve survived another emotional teenager. You’re like me. Focused. Logical.” He leaned his elbows on the desk. “Now, let’s talk about the reading list. You’re falling behind?”

I wasn’t as dramatic as my sister, but I hadn’t considered I might be more like my dad. If I was a little of both, where did that put me? “This book is just longer than the others,” I said.

“You had no trouble with Catch-22. That’s a big one.”

“Because I liked it.”

“You liked it?” For whatever reason, that seemed to surprise him. “So did I. But not liking a book isn’t a reason to hold up the whole list.”

I recalled my conversation with Manning earlier about reading what I wanted, not what was required. “Maybe I could take a break and read something for fun.”

“There’ll be a lot you won’t want to read in college. Just push through, Lake.” He turned back to his computer, effectively dismissing me. “Besides, I’d like you to finish so I can give you my own list.”

That was my summer in a nutshell. I didn’t need to ask why it had to be packed with schoolwork; I already knew. USC wasn’t looking for the type of student who finished some or most of her reading list. They wanted the ones who went above and beyond. Who had a second list. And it wasn’t that I didn’t want to do it—I loved to read. But maybe Manning and Tiffany were right. Would it be so bad if I did something that wasn’t mandated by my dad, like picked up a book that interested me or took a night off?

“I want to go to the fair,” I said. “With Tiffany.”

He inspected the bottom of the handheld bulbous device that attached to the computer—a mouse, he’d called it, which had made me giggle. “I already said no.”

“I’ve been working really hard, Dad. I did summer school, I’ve been reading or studying non-stop, and next month, I’m volunteering to be a camp counselor again. Shouldn’t I get to have a little fun before summer ends?”

He looked up. “You know who has fun? Your sister. Do you want to turn out like her, no job, no money, living with us after high school? She had a chance to read the same books and get the same education you are, but she chose to goof off instead.”

At times, his disappointment in her seemed unfair. As long as I could remember, he’d expected little of her and a lot of me. I was just fulfilling his expectations—wasn’t it possible she was doing the same?

Before I could decide whether or not to defend her, he sighed. “You can go to Balboa and that’s it. Come straight home after.”

I smiled. “Thanks, Daddy. I’ll finish the book by then, promise.”

I went directly from his study to knock on Tiffany’s door. Her music was up loud, so I had to pound a little harder.

“Go away,” she said.

“It’s me.”

“I know.”

I entered, even though Tiffany might eviscerate me, to tell her the good news.

She lay on her bed, a pillow over her face. “What do you want?”

I stayed by the door in case she threw anything. She’d once broken the receiver of her touchtone because Dad had blown up over the phone bill. I couldn’t tell if she was crying. Usually when she did, it was loud enough for all of us to hear. Tiffany didn’t really see the point of crying if nobody knew about it.

“Dad’s letting us go out Saturday night.”

“I should’ve just had you ask in the first place. Duh. You always get what you want.”

I’d tried to do something nice, and now I was the bad guy. “Because I actually had something to bargain with. I’m doing well in school, so I get to ask for things. Maybe you should try to do something, too.”

She grabbed the pillow and flopped it on the bed next to her. “Like what?”

“I don’t know . . . get a job?”

“I barely got through high school.”

“You’re exaggerating,” I said. “Your grades just weren’t up to Dad’s impossible standards. You should just try to find something, even if it’s part-time.”

“Where?”

I rubbed my nose. “How about Nordstrom? You spend enough time there anyway.”

She blinked up at the ceiling. I thought I saw a hint of a smile. “At the mall the other day, this guy asked if I was a model. Maybe I could do that.”

“Like . . . as a career?”

“Um, have you heard of Claudia Schiffer?” she asked. “Or Linda Evangelista? She doesn’t wake up for less than ten thousand dollars a day.”

Tiffany was beautiful, there was no denying it. Truthfully, I couldn’t think of anyone I knew personally who was prettier than my older sister. But I wasn’t sure I could picture her walking the runways like the models in her coveted magazines. “I think you have to be, like, five-eight,” I said. “Or at least five-seven like Kate Moss.”

“I am five-seven.” She balked at me. “You and I are the same height.”

I wasn’t getting into that argument again. Mom had measured us both months ago, but despite the evidence, Tiffany insisted she wasn’t a half inch shorter than me. “Maybe you could model for Nordstrom, like in their catalogues,” I suggested.

“You think?” Her eyes lit up. “Then I’d get free stuff.”

“I don’t think you get free stuff,” I pointed out, although I wasn’t sure. “Do you?”

“You get an employee discount, so it’s practically free.”

“So you’ll try then? Maybe go down there and see how it works?”

She didn’t answer. I picked up the CD case next to her stereo. Gin Blossoms. The bands she listened to always had strange names. Like Pink Floyd. Was Floyd a person or a thing? If it was a thing, was it always pink, or did it come in different colors? I wanted to ask but she might’ve noticed Manning’s shirt, too, and then she’d want to know why I cared. But if it meant not embarrassing myself in front of him again, then I’d take that risk. “Do you know who Pink Floyd is?”

“Yep,” she said.

“Do you have their CD?” I asked.

“I might have a tape I took from this guy I used to see. He was into them.”

“Will you play it for me?”

“What am I, your servant?” she asked but smiled. “Maybe later. Where’d you hear about them?”

She must not’ve noticed Manning’s shirt after all. “At school.”

“Of course. I hate when good stuff goes mainstream, you know?”

I didn’t know. “Are they new?”

“No. Even Mom and Dad know Pink Floyd. But when high school kids start talking about it, then it’s really not cool.”

I guess Tiffany had forgotten she only graduated high school a year ago.

She sniffled, staring up at the ceiling.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“Why?”

“Because of what Dad said.”

“Oh. Yeah. He can be such an asshole.”

I put the CD down and went to sit on the edge of her bed. “He just has a bad way of showing he cares.”

“Whatever,” Tiffany muttered. “Honestly, it could be worse. I could be you.”

“Me?” I asked. “What’s that mean?”

“At least he mostly leaves me alone.” That was true. Dad and Tiffany fought, but he’d stopped trying to get her to do most things. She no longer came home by curfew or pretended she didn’t drink or paid for her own gas—that had lasted less than a month. “But you,” she continued, “he’ll be on your case nonstop for at least six more years, all the way through college. It’s only going to get worse as you start applying to schools.”

I didn’t think of it like that. I was lucky to have someone who cared as much as I did, more even, about getting me in to the school of my dreams. “Maybe once I get in to USC, he’ll back off both of us,” I said.

“Have you thought about any other schools?”

Her hair looked soft, fanned out over the comforter. I ran my fingers through it. “Not really.”

“Maybe you should just to be sure. There are a lot more options than ’SC.”

I shook my head. “It’s always been my first choice.”

“I know.” She looked away. “As long as it’s what you want, and you’re not doing it just for Dad.”

She sounded concerned, and that didn’t happen a lot. But she’d grown up in the room next to mine; she knew I had a drawer full of USC merchandise and that Dad and I had toured the campus once a year since I was ten. “It is.”

She turned back to me. “By the way, Manning’s coming to the fair with us.”

My fingers stilled in her hair. “What?”

“He’s so serious. I was hoping he’d ask me out, but when he didn’t, I told him about Saturday and he’s never been to Balboa Island. Can you believe it?”

I needed to blink or swallow. I just stared at her with a dry mouth. An evening with Manning excited me, but were they going on a date? No. He hadn’t asked her, and brave as Tiffany was, she didn’t want to seem desperate. That’s what she’d said earlier about making the first move, anyway. “What about Brad?”

“Who?”

“The guy you were hoping would call.”

“Oh.” She shrugged. “I talked to him this afternoon. I’m not sure how I feel about him.”

I didn’t ask if that had anything to do with Manning, afraid she’d say yes. How would I respond to that?

She sat up. “Isn’t Manning gorgeous? I should hang around you more often. You’re good luck.”

My neck and cheeks flushed. I loved my sister—she probably knew me as well as my mom. Regardless, hearing her call Manning gorgeous made my ears hot. I’d thought he was handsome before she’d even met him. Didn’t that count for something? Just because I didn’t fawn all over him didn’t mean it was okay for her to.

“I can’t believe he’s from Los Angeles,” Tiffany said. “It sounds so glamorous.”

“Pasadena’s outside of L.A.”

“Guys my age just don’t get me, you know? It’s bad when you have more experience than a guy.”

“What do you mean?”

Tiffany smiled a little, watching me. “Sex.”

My face got even hotter. I didn’t know what to say. Last year, I’d aced an AP English test most of my classmates had flunked. I could recite Pi to the fifteenth digit. I’d made Principal’s Honor Roll the last two years. But on this topic, I knew hardly anything. I didn’t hang around with any girls who’d had sex yet. They weren’t in my classes. They didn’t belong to the clubs I did. They were like Tiffany. “I don’t want to know,” I said. “I’m not interested.”

“You will be soon.” She grinned as she looked over my face, which was surely red. I could never hide my blushing. “I started that stuff around the time I was your age.”

A knot formed in my throat. What did that mean—“stuff”? I mean, I knew the logistics of it. At least, I thought I did. I tried not to think about it, though . . . sex. Girls like me worried about different things.

“Manning just looks like he knows what he’s doing,” she added wistfully.

That made me think of his hands, how they’d enveloped my waist and my forearm earlier, of his fingers, the way they’d set my skin prickling. I didn’t want him to touch Tiffany the way he had me.

I bent my leg under me, picking at my sock. “So he said he’d come to the fair?”

“Yep.”

“What about Dad?” I asked. “I doubt he’d want you going out with one of the workers.”

“Imagine how he’d react if I brought home someone who’s older and a construction worker,” she said.

I didn’t understand her sudden, strange smile. “So then maybe you should think about, uh, not going out with him.”

“Why?”

“If it’ll make Dad mad . . .”

Tiffany pulled me down onto the bed, hugging me as she laughed. “You have so much to learn about life. Don’t you realize part of Manning’s appeal is that he’d piss Dad off? A blind person could see that, Lake.”

It was a lot to wrap my head around. In one afternoon, everything about my small, easy world had changed. Tiffany was talking to me about sex. I’d met Manning, who fascinated me beyond my understanding. And the three of us were going to the fair.

But I couldn’t shake the feeling that even though I’d met Manning first, for some reason, Tiffany thought he belonged to her.