Moonglass

tongue when we had this talk. This time I said it. “You were a lifeguard when Mom married you. What was so bad about that?” I regretted it the instant I said it.
    He didn’t say anything at first. Just looked out the window. But I knew by his voice when he spoke that I’d hit a nerve. “Anna. Don’t .” The moment felt far more serious than I’d meant it to get. More than seemed reasonable. I looked at my lap. “Okay. I get it.” I didn’t at all, but I didn’t want to go any further than I just had. I waved my hand casually. “It wasn’t anything, anyway. I met a girl on the beach, too. She somehow talked me into joining the cross-country team. First practice is tomorrow.”
    He brightened a bit, but it seemed forced. “Really?”
    “Yeah. She seemed nice.” I watched him out of the corner of my eye as he steered us up onto the road in front of our cottage.
    He put the truck in park and turned it off, then looked out at the water, sparkling gold and glassy from the setting sun. “Wanna paddle out?” I knew that meant we were done and that we’d smooth over the surface I’d just tossed a rock into. But even the waves that crash down on the beach start out as tiny ripples, far out at sea.
    They just gain strength over time.

CHAPTER 5
    My dreams made the night long. It’d been a while since I’d dreamed of her, but the effect was always the same. I’d just gotten better at dealing with it. By the time my dad poked his head into my room, I had already taken enough deep breaths to calm myself down and appear sleepy rather than shaken.
    “Hey, Anna. Time to get up. Don’t wanna be late the first day of practice.” He was already in his uniform, coffee cup in hand.
    I rubbed my eyes, wondering why in the world I had agreed to go. Dad disappeared into the hall way, and I heard his feet make their way over the wood floor to the living room. I lay back and looked at the ceiling. Meeting Ashley the day before seemed far away, and deciding to join the cross-country team out of the blue, on my first day in town, suddenly felt ridiculous. My stomach fluttered. Stupid.
    I swung my legs out of bed and walked over to the pile of running clothes I had laid out the night before. Groggily I pulled on my shorts, aware that they were old and faded, just like the tank top I put on next. I sighed and tucked the red pendant that hung from my neck into it. When I bent to tie my shoes and got a good look at their cracked leather and balding soles, I resolved to get new everything before the next practice. Then I thought of Ashley and wondered if Prada made running clothes.
    “See ya, hon! Have a good one!” my dad called. I heard the back door shut.
    “Bye,” I said to the quiet of the house. In the kitchen he’d left a bowl of steaming oatmeal and a twenty-dollar bill on the counter. I looked at the clock, shoveled a few bites into my mouth, and then grabbed the twenty and my keys and headed out the door. Our VW bus that had looked so perfect in front of the cottage now stood, slightly rusty and a little pathetic when I thought of rolling into the Coast High School parking lot. I dismissed the thought, annoyed at myself that I was already caring about what a bunch of people I had never met would think. It would be hard not to, though, if Ashley was any indication. I started the engine and crawled up the hill to the PCH, reminding myself that it didn’t matter—that I had friends back home who were real, down-to-earth people. I just wished I could take them with me. Once on the highway, with the windows rolled down and the music cranked up, I started to feel a little better. Enough to even entertain the thought that joining the team could be a good thing. I didn’t exactly want to spend my entire junior year alone.
    The only car in the parking lot was a sparkly pearl white BMW. Had to be Ashley. Or everyone here was descended from privilege. I shook my head and parked my bus right next to it, kind of my own little statement—no use disguising the gulf between our backgrounds. As soon as I cut the engine, the passenger door of the BMW swung open, and Ashley waved excitedly from the driver’s seat. I waved back, relieved it was her, and got out.
    “Hey! I hope you don’t mind, but I told you that practice started a half hour earlier than it actually does, because I wanted to make sure we got to talk first.
    Get in. I got you a coffee.” She held up a Starbucks cup. “I read that Lance Armstrong