Chapter Four The Summer I Turned Pretty.

After I unpacked, I went straight down to the pool, where I knew the boys would be. They were lying around on the deck chairs, their dirty bare feet hanging off the edges.

As soon as Malik saw me, he sprang up.

"Ladies and Gentlemen-men-men," he began

dramatically, bowing like a circus ringmaster. "I do believe it is time ... for our first Zarah flop of the Summer."

I inched away from them uneasily. Too fast a movement, and it would be all over they'd chase me then. "No way," I said.

Then Khalil and Amir stood up, circling me.

You can't fight tradition," Amir said. Khalil just grinned evilly.

I'm too old for this," I said desperately. I walked backward, and that's when they grabbed me. Amir and Malik each took a wrist.

"Come on, guys," I said, trying to wriggle out of their grasp. I dragged my feet, but they pulled me along. I knew it was futile to resist, but I always tried, even though the bottoms of my feet got burned along the pavement in the process.

"Ready?" Malik said, lifting me up under my armpits.

Khalil grabbed my feet, and then Amir took my right arm while Malik hung on to my left. They swung me back and forth like I was a sack of flour. "I hate you guys," I yelled over their laughter.

"One," Malik began.

"Two," Amir said.

"And three," Khalil finished. Then they launched me into the pool, clothes and all. I hit the water with a loud smack. Underwater, I could hear them busting up.

The Zarah Flop was something they'd started about a million summers ago. Probably it had been Amir. I hated it. Even though it was one of the only times I was included in their fun, I hated being the brunt of it. It made me feel utterly powerless, and it was a reminder that I was an outsider, too weak to fight them, all because I was a girl. Somebody's little sister.

I used to cry about it, run to Leila and my mother, but it didn't do any good. The boys just accused me of being a tattletale. Not this time, though.

This time I was going to be a good sport. If I was a good sport, maybe that would take away some of their joy.

When I came up to the surface, I smiled and said, “You guys are ten-year-olds."

"For life," Amir said smugly. His smuggy face made me want to splash him and soak him and his precious Hugo Boss sunglasses that he worked for three weeks to pay for.

Then I said, "I think you twisted my ankle, Khalil ."I pretended to have trouble swimming over to them.

He walked over to the edge of the pool. "I'm pretty sure you'll live," he said, smirking.

"At least help me out," I demanded. He squatted and gave me his hand, which I took.

"Thanks," I said giddily. Then I gripped tight and pulled his arm as hard as I could. He stumbled, fell forward, and landed in the pool with a splash even bigger than mine. I think I laughed harder right then than I've laughed in my whole life. So did Malik and Amir . I think maybe all of Cousins Beach heard us laughing.

Khalil’s head bobbed up quickly, and he swam over to me in about two strokes. I worried he might be mad, but he wasn't, not completely. He was smiling but in a threatening kind of way. I dodged away from him. "Can't catch me," I said gleefully. "Too slow!"

Every time he came close, I swam away. "Marco," I called out, giggling.

Malik and Amir, who were headed back to the house, said, “Polo!"

Which made me laugh, which made me slow to swim away, and Khalil caught my foot. "Let go," I gasped, still laughing.

Khalil shook his head. "I thought I was too slow,"he said, treading water closer to me. We were in the diving well. His white T-shirt was soaked through, and I could see the pinky gold of his skin.

There was this weird stillness between us all of a sudden. He still held on to my foot, and I was trying to stay afloat. For a second I wished Malik and Amir were still there. I didn't know why.

"Let go," I said again.

He pulled on my foot, drawing me closer. Being this close to him was making me feel dizzy and nervous. I said it again, one last time, even though I didn't mean it. "Khalil, let go of me."

He did. And then he dunked me. It didn't matter. I was already holding my breath.

Leila came down from her nap a little while after we put on dry clothes, apologizing for missing our big homecoming. She still looked sleepy and her hair was all feathery on one side like a kid's. She and my mother hugged first, fierce and long. My mother looked so happy to see her that she was teary, and my mother was never teary.

Then it was my turn. Leila swept me in for a hug, the close kind that's long enough to make you wonder how long it's going to last, who’ll pull away first.

"You look thin," I told her, partly because it was true and partly because I knew she loved to hear it.

She was always on a diet, always watching what she ate. To me, she was perfect.

“Thanks, honey," Leila said, finally letting me go, looking at me from arm's length. She shook her head and said, "When did you go and grow up? When did you turn into this phenomenal woman?"

I smiled self-consciously, glad that the boys were upstairs and not around to hear this. "I look pretty much the same."

"You've always been lovely, but oh honey, look at you." She shook her head like she was in awe of me. "You're so pretty. So pretty. You're going to have an amazing, amazing summer. It will be a summer you’ll never forget." Leila always spoke in absolutes like that-and when she did, it sounded like proclamation, like it would come true because she said so.

The thing is, Leila was right. It was a summer I’d never, ever forget. It was the summer everything began. It was the summer I turned pretty. Because for the first time, I felt it. Pretty, I mean. Every summer up to this one, I believed it'd be different. Life would be different. And that summer, it finally was. I was.