It had begun innocently enough. They’d gone into town to see E.T., which had just opened at the Rialto.
Lila was supposed to come, too, but when it was time for them to leave she was nowhere to be found.

“She probably went for a ride and lost track of the time,” speculated Vaughn, as he was digging his car keys from his pocket. He shook his head in bemusement, as if to say, Typical of my sister.

Abigail responded with a shrug, leaving the impression that she’d done a thorough search, when it had been cursory at best. Deep down, hadn’t she wanted to be alone with Vaughn? she thought, feeling a pang of guilt as they started down the driveway. This way, she could pretend it was a date. And, as it turned out, she didn’t have to work too hard at pretending. All evening, she was almost excruciatingly aware of his presence: his hand lightly cupping her elbow as he steered her through the crowd at the entrance; during the movie, his forearm resting on the armrest separating their seats, tickling the tiny hairs of herbare arm; his buttery fingers brushing against hers when he reached into the popcorn box just as she was doing so.

Nevertheless, she read nothing into it when, on their way home, Vaughn pulled onto the old quarry road instead of heading toward their house. It was early yet, and these days he seldom missed an opportunity to put his new set of wheels to the test. As they barreled down the dirt road, dust boiling up around them and the tape deck cranked up to full volume, blasting Van Halen, she let go of any trepidation she felt at the speed with which Vaughn drove and gave herself over to the sense of abandon that he never failed to generate in her. Vaughn, it seemed, had been born with the inverse of gravitational pull, and as he raced along, expertly guiding the pickup over bumps and potholes, the wind streaming in through the open windows making a tornado of his sun-streaked hair, she was infected by the thrill of it as well.

When they could go no farther, they got out and went the rest of the way on foot, picking their way over rocks and down a slope that after a dozen or so yards ended in a steep drop-off. Below, the waters of the quarry gleamed blackly, pricked with the reflections of stars.

Vaughn turned to her with a grin. “How about a swim?”

It was a warm night, the air soupy and sluggish as the water below was cool and inviting, but she hesitated even so. Where once they’d run around each other half naked, lately she’d become self-conscious with Vaughn. It had started the night of her school dance, when in the span of a few short hours he’d gone from being her surrogate brother to someone capable of breaking her heart. These days, whenever she was around him, she felt as if an invisible band were constricting her chest. It was difficult to speak without having to stop every few seconds to catch her breath.

But she didn’t want him to know her feelings toward him had changed, so she tossed back casually, “Why not?”

They stripped down to their underwear, as they had countless times before, only this time it was different. Abigail turned her back as she hurriedly peeled off her T-shirt and jeans, glad for the cover of darkness.

Next