Photo © {link:http://www.sanjabistric.com}Sanja Bistricic{/link}.

Miss Teen Texas 2011 and her parents were heading down Interstate 45 towards the ocean. The tops of palm trees peaked over the high concrete sides of the highway, bouncing and shaking in the wind. The August heat made rivulets in the air over the asphalt. The father drove, his Oakley sunglasses flashing blue rainbows across the roof of the Suburban. Next to him sat the mother, tanning-bed legs in crisp white shorts that rode up her smooth thighs. She drummed her manicured fingers on the center console, the silver charms on her bracelet tinkling.

“How you doin’ back there, darlin’?”

Lila didn’t look up from her iPhone. She let a second of silence hang in the air, heavy and bursting.

“Fine.”

Her mother turned in her seat and lifted the sunglasses away from her eyes, trying to catch Lila’s glare.

“We’re almost there, sugar.”

“That’s good.”

Mother sighed, letting the sunglasses fall back onto the bridge of her nose as she turned back around. Father reached out and patted her hand before adjusting the rear-view mirror so that he could see his daughter.

“Hey Miss Teen Texas! What’s got you so blue?”

Lila raised her head and met her father’s eyes where he appeared, small and distorted, in the mirror. She smiled and shrugged, her tan shoulders shifting the tank-top straps so that one slid down her arm. Hooking a thumb through the strap, she yanked it back into place.

“Nothing, Daddy. I’m okay.”

She saw that Mother’s shoulders were stiff against the seat. She didn’t care.

–

Lila stood on the boardwalk that ran from the backyard of their rental, over the sand dunes to the public beach. Below her the beach grasses undulated in the breeze. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky and the sun beat down on the bleached wood. The air was full of the crash of waves, the cry of seagulls and the thump-thump of some far-off subwoofer in someone’s truck. Before her was the ocean, a muddy blue sheet of glass spreading out past the breakers. Behind her was the pinkest house she had ever seen.

Mother had been ecstatic – “Look, sugar! It’s pink! You love pink!” – and had immediately taken her picture in front of it. Lila had stood in the driveway and stared up at the house, rising like a wedding cake on stilts. A pink and white wedding cake. She knew the sherbet colors were typical of the beach houses – next door was a baby blue house with mint trim – but did they have to get the pink one? She was sick to death of pink.

I need a Coke, she thought, as a truck full of teenage boys drove past, their tires kicking up sand. One of them spotted her where she stood against the railing of the boardwalk, and he leaned out the window with his arms stretched wide. His mouth spread like a gash and he waggled his eyebrows. Lila turned and walked back towards the house.

–

Her mother had insisted on buying Lila a new bikini before the trip. It was pink. So was the beach towel Lila flopped down on, propping her chin up on her elbows. So was the tote-bag with her initials monogrammed on the front, the aluminum water-bottle, the iPhone case and the flip-flops. Her mother was unfolding her beach chair (pink), her slow movements perfectly highlighting her toned legs and upper arms.

“Maybe someone will think we’re sisters!” she had giggled to Lila, as they walked down to the beach. Lila had stared ahead, the pink tote bag banging against her thighs.

Lila dozed on her pink towel, lulled by the steady sound of the waves and the rise and fall of voices carried by the light breeze. She watched as the skin over her bones and in the crease of her elbows turned a burnished almost-black. She was half asleep and didn’t register the thud of running footfalls or feel the spray of sand where the foot met the ground. It wasn’t until a large, bare foot landed directly in front of her face that she reacted, launching herself up and backwards. The boy tripped, surprised by the sudden movement, and sprawled out next to her towel. He stared at her sheepishly, his blond curls falling in his eyes.

“Didn’t see you there. I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

Lila shook her head as she brushed the sand off the tops of her thighs. She could hear Mother shifting in her beach chair and steeled herself for what was coming.

“Young man! You could have stepped on my baby’s head! Why don’t you look where you’re going?”

Mother lifted her sunglasses away from her eyes and Lila saw her prepare to shoot an icy glare towards the boy, but her features softened and her eyes widened slightly when she got a good look at him. Tall and muscular, tanned skin and blond hair. His board-shorts were slung low on slim hips and he gripped a football in one hand.

“I’m sorry, ma’am – I didn’t see her. Too into the game, I guess.”

Lila stood, straightening her bikini bottoms, as her mother smiled a honey-smile. Two seagulls fought over a sandwich a few yards away.

“What a polite young man! Lila, don’t you think this nice young man is polite?”

“Yes, Mama. He’s polite.”

Lila looked at the boy. There was a patch of wet sand on his cheek and he was catalog-model adorable. This is who you’re supposed to like, she thought. This is what Mama likes. She watched as her mother fluttered around the boy. The boy’s friends were starting to converge and suddenly Lila felt hemmed in. She stood, board-stiff, as the teenagers fanned out behind the boy and laughed as one at her mother’s jokes. The pounding of the waves on the sand beat against the inside of her skull.

“And this is my daughter Lila! She’s the crowned Miss Teen Texas 2011! Isn’t she a beauty? We sure think so, isn’t that right sugar?”

Lila walked into her mother’s outstretched arm.

–

The boy’s name was Colin. He was wide-receiver for his high-school football team and he played the acoustic guitar. Lila’s mother was head over heels for him, a fact she reiterated as she packed a pink ice chest with pink wine-coolers. Lila stood by silently, in her cut-off shorts and pink t-shirt, as her mother handed her the ice chest.

“I don’t have to ask y’all to be careful, now do I?”

“No, Mama.”

Lila walked down the boardwalk and over the dunes. She walked over the sand, shifting the ice chest to the other hand. The bottles inside rang as they knocked against each other. She walked towards the fire flickering by the water, and the group of teenagers crowded around it.

“Hey, Miss Teen Texas 2011!”

Lila put on her pageant smile and went to work.

–
Two wine-coolers made Lila smile so wide she thought her face would crack. She laughed at Colin’s jokes and shook hands with his friends. She met his sister, Moe, and stood next to her as Moe talked about surfing. The roar of the ocean and the roar of the fire filled the blackness, but Lila felt like she was in a bubble. The bubble floated along, rocked softly by the waves.

Colin moved from group to group, his bright head glinting in the moonlight. Moe laughed at him as he flitted, making her hands like a butterfly and rolling her eyes. Lila laughed too. She watched as Moe raised her beer can to her lips, tilting her head back as she drank. The moon caught on her white cotton sundress.

“Why do you have so much pink stuff? Christ, even your drinks are pink!”

Lila grimaced as she took another pull from her bottle. Swallowing, she held the wine-cooler at eye level and glared at it.

“I’m Miss Teen Texas 2011. I’m supposed to love pink.”

Moe laughed and slid one of the pink bottles from the pink ice-chest. She twisted off the top and raised it, knocking it gently against Lila’s bottle. It made a tiny bell sound. Lila watched as Moe tipped the bottle back and chugged the wine-cooler before throwing the pink bottle over her shoulder into the sand.

–

“You’re pretty.”

“That’s what they tell me.”

Five wine-coolers made Lila’s head feel heavy and she didn’t care how big she smiled. She sat on the boardwalk steps, her elbows on her knees and her chin in her hands. Colin sat next to her, his leg pressed against her thigh. Every few minutes he let his hand accidentally slide across her bare skin. It gave her goosebumps, but she ignored it.

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

“No.”

“Do you want one?”

Lila thought for a moment. Did she want a boyfriend? It was the first time she had asked herself that question. She had thought it was required – like taking the SATs or getting your wisdom teeth removed. She was Miss Teen Texas 2011. She had figured a boyfriend was part of the package.

“I don’t know.”

She felt Colin scoot closer to her, felt the weight of him lean against her. She sat up, her back stiff and her palms planted on the wood. She stared straight ahead but she could feel his breath on the side of her face. When he spoke, the words puffed against her skin.

“Want to try me out?”

Before Lila could answer, she felt his hand against her stomach – his fingers hot and rough as they spanned her hipbone. She jumped at the contact and he steadied her by gripping her upper arm. He was in front of her now, blocking the ocean. Lila stared into his chest as his hand slid up her ribcage and swiped roughly under her bra.

“What are y’all doing way over here?”

Lila could see Moe in her peripheral vision, backlit by the moon. Her ponytail quivered in the wind as she waited for Colin to extricate his hand from Lila’s shirt.

“Nothing. What do you want?”

Moe grinned, her look feral as she moved closer to her brother. Lila watched, interested, as Colin shrank slightly. Moe planted her feet in the sand and crossed her arms.

“I want to talk to Miss Teen Texas.”

Lila locked her eyes on Moe as she scooted to the side of the boardwalk steps, making room. Moe slid in next to her and Lila didn’t take her eyes off her face. She heard Colin’s frustrated huff and his footsteps as they faded off towards the fire.

The sky was dark and pinpricked. The light from the moon reflected off the water, sending a low-hanging glow across the horizon. Lila leaned back against the railing, letting her hair fall across her shoulders and face. The creeping sensation in her gut that had started when his fingers slid against her stomach finally began to fade. She could hear Moe settling in beside her and breathed in her scent of surf wax and sweat.

Moe was staring off at the water, her profile backlit by the outdoor lights on the back porch of the house next door. Her blonde curls looped and twisted across her neck and one sweaty piece stuck to her temple. Lila’s fingers itched to reach out and brush it away. She wondered what Moe’s skin felt like — would it be soft, or gritty with sand?

“What did he do?”

Moe’s voice was sharp and Lila could swear she saw the air ripple as the words sliced through the dark. She shrugged, the rough wood of the railing pulling at her skin. Moe smiled softly, a slight upturn at the corners of her mouth, and blinked. Lila watched as her lashes slid down across her freckled cheekbones. A seagull cried out, a lightning bug floated by.

“He put his hand up my shirt.”

Lila felt her cheeks begin to flame. Moe didn’t say anything, just sat still as a statue staring out into the dark. Lila gulped in the night air, letting it cool her skin. She felt the pink from her cheeks fade. Her lungs expanded and she felt like a balloon. Moe sat beside her quietly, her solid presence keeping Lila from floating off into the night.

And then Moe wasn’t staring straight ahead anymore – she turned towards Lila, her hand reaching, and it was like she had always been looking. The soft impact of fingertips against stomach skin. Lila sucked in, the air now hot in her throat. Her vision was all Moe, a floating face with a steadily shrinking horizon. Tunnel-vision, she thought. It’s called tunnel-vision.

Moe had freckles and a scar on her top lip that stood out like a white flag against her tanned skin. When their lips met, Lila ran her tongue over the scar. She felt Moe’s hand clench against her hip and she smiled into the kiss.

–

“Am I a lesbian now?”

Lila sat with her knees pulled up to her chest. Her shoulder brushed lightly against Moe’s. The question hung there, a shining thing, before Moe laughed.

“Did you like it?”

“Yeah.”

Moe grinned and jumped to her feet, gripping the hem of her dress in her hands and pulling it up over her head in one graceful sweep. She stood there, tanned skin streaked with moonlight, waiting.

“Want to go for a swim?”

The sound of the party echoed dully around them, punctuated by the cries of the seagulls overhead. Lila imagined Mother in the living room of the beach house, surrounded by pink martini glasses, her head tipped back against the couch. She saw her mother’s pink manicured fingers clenching and unclenching against the sea-foam upholstery.

Moe stood in front of her, watching the ocean. The curve of her back slunk into Lila’s vision and she could see a strip of pale flesh above the waistband of Moe’s panties. Moe turned her head, her eyes large over her freckled shoulder.

Lila rose, her hands shaking as Moe deftly popped the button open on her Levi’s shorts. They slid straight down and pooled at Lila’s feet. They faced each other — Moe in her white cotton set and Lila in pink panties and t-shirt. The wind was cool on Lila’s thighs. She could feel the imprint of Moe’s scar on her tongue.

Suddenly Moe let out a whoop, her hands flinging towards the sky as she turned and sprinted down the boardwalk. Lila scurried after her, the moon jumping spastically as she ran. Moe leapt onto the sand and took off running towards the waves. Lila watched until all she could see was a pair of white panties bobbing in the blackness. She thundered down the steps, hitting the sand with both feet.

Katy Jones is the Editor of The Blind Hem. She is a fashion-school dropout with a Creative Writing BA from the University of Houston. She blogs at Dirty Hems, sells vintage at Moonshine Hill and is usually spilling her guts on twitter. She lives in Texas.

The photograph in this post is by Sanja Bistricic.