Elara
My father did not start the car. He just looked at me. "So, what do you think of your new brother?"
I wished he would turn the key, start driving, and put some space between us and the house, between me and the memory of Anderson. The little bit of peace I had found by leaving was already gone. I snapped my seatbelt into place and shoved my bag down by my feet.
"He is not my brother." My father gave me a look that was all business, and I had to add, "I do not have any thoughts about him. Can we please go?"
His hand, which had been moving toward the ignition, fell back into his lap. I dropped my head, feeling bad. "I am sorry, Dad."
"What are you sorry for?"
"For talking to you that way."
Ever since that day, we have both been walking on eggshells around each other. We have to be. He did not look away, and I finally lifted my eyes to meet his, the same blue as mine. My hair is black, while his is brown. He took my hand, the one with the tattoo. His finger traced a line near the semicolon, but he did not touch the mark itself. He knew the exact day I put it there.
"I just want the two of you to be friends, Elara," Dad said. My mother was the only one who used my full name for serious talks, and Dad started doing it after she died. I bit my top lip to keep from saying anything. If Anderson and I did not have a past, maybe I would not care about being called his sister. But we kissed, and the truth is, I want to kiss him again.
"You are so good with Sophia. It would mean the world to me if you could be kind to her son, too. It would make your stepmother and me very happy."
"I will try."
Suddenly, he was pulling me into a hug. I held on tight, and for one single second, things felt almost okay. Or maybe they did not. Just as Dad started to back out of the driveway, Anderson came running from the house, waving his arms like he was trying to stop a bus. Dad slowed the car to let him get closer, and I let out a quiet curse. I really, truly hated this boy-man.
"Do you need a ride?" Dad asked once Anderson was at the window.
Anderson gave a fast nod. The wind had messed up his curly hair, throwing it across his face. He pushed it back from his forehead, and the muscle in his arm moved. I was sure that was the only reason he kept it long, just so he had a reason to do that.
"Yes, sir," he said, sounding a little out of breath.
Dad laughed softly. "Marcus, or Dad, is just fine."
Oh, God. Please choose Marcus. Anderson's eyes flicked to me, then back to my dad. "Marcus is good."
I gave him the first real smile I had managed all day, but Anderson did not even seem to see it. Maybe he was angry about my lie, but we both knew he never would have kissed me if he had known how old I really was. I am not even that young. In less than two years, I will be the nineteen-year-old girl he was so eager to get into his room.
Dad did not say anything else, but he clicked the locks to let him into the back seat. The car became mostly silent for the rest of the drive. Dad is usually a big talker, but I guess neither of us knew how to act with this new person in our family.
"What do you think of our town?" Dad asked when we stopped at a red light. This town is not even that small. "I bet it is not as dull as where you are from."
Anderson shook his head, and a small, stupid part of me wanted him to speak so I could hear his voice again. It is a smooth voice, with a low hum that only someone who sings would have. I know that because I sing, too. I am in the school choir. "When did you get here?" Dad continued.
"Two nights ago." My head spun around. I actually got on my knees on the seat to stare at the handsome liar in the back. Anderson tilted his head, almost like he was challenging me to say something. I guess we are both liars. I dropped back into my seat, but I could feel his eyes on the back of my head. Even Dad was watching me. He was curious.
"Do you have something to say, Lat?"
"My name is not Lat," I fired back. Dad gave me that look again. I took a sharp breath. "Please do not call me that. My name is Elara. Or Ella."
"Your sister likes to be called Elara," Dad added, trying to help me. Anderson mumbled something we could not hear. "Do you have a nickname?"
"No. Just Anderson." Just Anderson. But for one night, he had been 'A'. I smoothed my hands over my jeans, which had no creases. Why did he lie?
The light turned green, and the car started moving again. I pulled out my phone and logged into my other account to make a post on the Girls Code website.
"Marcus, is it normal for girls around here to lie about their age?"
Dad tapped the horn at a Toyota Camry trying to cut into our lane. I made my hands into fists. Anderson would not tell on me. He could not.
"Sure. Have you met one?"
"I think I might have. She told me she was nineteen." A hard lump seemed to form in my throat. I coughed into my hand, pressing my forehead to the cool glass of the window to avoid my dad's eyes. To him, his daughter is a good girl who does not spend her nights in bars.
"I think she was lying. She looked a whole lot like your daughter, Elara."
I lost it. I broke into another fit of coughing. Dad slowed the car, but I waved for him to keep going. "Are you sure you are all right?" Dad asked. I nodded, my face feeling like it was burning.
"We can stop for a minute if you are feeling sick."
His forehead was all lined with worry as he looked at my bright red face. I forced a big, fake smile onto my mouth. "No, it is fine. I am okay. Just perfect, Dad."
The smile must have worked. He started driving again and went right back to his conversation with the slimy bastard in the back. I tapped my fingers on the dashboard, trying and failing to block out their talk about teenage girls who are too desperate to seem older.
"You have to be careful with them," Dad told my stepbrother in a light voice. I buried my face in my hands. This was the longest car ride of my entire life.
"We had a situation like that here once. A girl lied, and it almost destroyed the boy's life."
"I did not hear about that," Anderson said.
It was a huge story. It was all anyone could talk about for months, and it made it ten times harder for any of us to use our fake IDs.
"A fifteen-year-old was at a club, and she got involved with a nineteen-year-old," Dad went on. "…he was lucky a police officer had already seen her ID, because this whole town was ready to send him to prison for statutory rape."
"That is so fucked up," Anderson said quietly. His voice was full of something sad and bitter, and a sudden, heavy feeling of guilt dropped right onto my chest. I could have gotten him into real, deep trouble. Maybe that is what he was thinking right now. I tucked my hands between my knees.
"But it was not the guy's fault. How could he have known?"
"No idea," Dad finished. "But you have to be smart. There are a lot of lost girls out on the streets instead of being in school where they should be. It is a real shame. All that youth and potential, just thrown away."
I had to stop myself from rolling my eyes. Dad is so out of touch. To him, the only way is to follow the rules, no exceptions. In my opinion, you have to cross the line at least a few times before you die.
A minute later, as the car was about to turn left, Anderson said, "Right here. This is my stop." Dad pulled over to the side, and he got out. That annoying grin was back on his face.
"Thanks for the ride."
"Do not mention it, son." Dad really needs to stop saying that. Anderson is not his son. He has one child, and it is me. Anderson was about to leave when Dad stopped him. "Son, whatever you do, stay away from Becky's."
That is the name of the bar where we met. It is owned by some rich Black woman nobody has ever seen. They are the most relaxed about checking IDs, and they make their drinks strong. They have a name for letting in underage kids.
Not true, kids these days are just smarter about it. My fake ID looks completely real, and it was not hard to get. With a big, proud smile aimed right at me and an arm around my shoulders, Dad said,
"Elara knows better than to ever go to that part of town."
"Right?" Anderson gave us a mocking little nod, his eyes locked on mine. "I will be sure to keep my distance from Becky's… and from girls who are not honest about their age."