Peaches

had insisted it would look suspicious for them to arrive together since she was coming from the orchard and the last thing she needed was for her parents to make the connection that Rex worked at the orchard. And though he’d said she was paranoid, he’d gone along. Leeda had been pushing her family’s buttons by inviting him in the first place. When they met eyes, she communicated with hers that he should get his butt ready to go.
    The other face was Enrico. He was staring at Birdie as if she were a ball of light, his face illuminated, his mouth hanging slightly open.
    “Hey, Birdie,” Leeda whispered, leaning forward and pinching Birdie’s butt. “Your boyfriend’s catching flies.”
    Birdie snaked a hand out stealthily, smacking her low and hard on the upper thigh.
    “Ow.” Leeda shot her hand to her skin, surprised at how much it hurt.
    Walking across the grass all dressed up felt strange—but special. It felt like being dressed up at the orchard, you glowed extra bright. The car arrived to pick them up exactly on time.

    The Grand Ballroom of the Bridgewater Plantation View hotel was festooned with wine-colored candles that matched Danay’s lipstick. Leeda’s mom and dad stood by the big white doorsproudly, greeting guests as they came in. Leeda drifted up to them with Murphy and Birdie at either side. Her mom kissed her like she was one of the guests.
    “Hi, honey. Hi, Birdie.”
    She kissed Birdie lightly too.
    “And who’s this?” she asked Murphy’s cleavage.
    “That’s…Murphy, Mom.”
    “Hi, Murphy,” Mrs. Cawley-Smith said fakely. Her mom could be so embarrassing sometimes. “Do you work at the orchard?”
    Murphy crossed her arms over her chest defensively. But she managed to answer very politely. “Yep.”
    “Can you find your sister and send her over?” Lucretia asked, turning to Leeda. “I need to ask her something.”
    Leeda’s special feeling from back at the orchard immediately disintegrated. She’d barely seen her mom all summer. “Yeah,” Leeda said, “I’ll find her.”

    The party was in full swing half an hour later, with a twelve-piece Zydeco band that Danay had requested after hearing them at Jazz Club in New Orleans. Rex arrived around that time, saying hi to the girls and then dragging Leeda out onto the dance floor. Rex didn’t dance like some guys, showing off, or like others, who danced like spazzes. Rex danced nicely, solidly, dashingly, but without so much dash that he came across as less than the guy guy he was. Leeda was proud of him.
    “Your sister’s a good dancer,” he said, nodding to where Danay and Brighton were keeping perfect rhythm.
    “I know. I hate it,” Leeda said, knowing she sounded bratty. Rex rubbed her back at the waist, where his hand was holding her.
    “The audacity.” He smiled. Leeda did too. Good old Rex.
    He swung Leeda around a few times. They brushed past Horatio Balmeade, who was dancing with his much-younger wife but who eyed Leeda all the same as they crossed paths. Murphy was also not far away, dancing with one of the waiters.
    Birdie stood on the sidelines, sipping champagne in fast little spurts and looking like if she kept going at the pace she was, she was headed for the night of her life.

    After giving the cute waiter her number, Murphy drifted up to the bar and ordered a Manhattan, disbelieving that it could actually be free. “You look a little young to be drinking,” the bartender said, still handing her the drink but doubtfully.
    “Thanks,” Murphy said, flashing a seductive smile and sipping on her way to join Leeda, Rex, Birdie, Danay, and Leeda’s mom. Mrs. Cawley-Smith was in the middle of listening to herself talk about the migrant workers at the orchard. Murphy immediately wanted to turn around and hightail it elsewhere. But even though she was annoyed with Leeda for being so nitpicky about Birdie’s beautiful peach pit attack, she didn’t want to embarrass her by being rude. In fact, she’d never managed to act this mannerly for this long in her entire life.
    Leeda stood listening, looking small. Murphy had never seen her tuck her shoulders or look so unsure of herself.
    “It is really sad,” Danay said. “They don’t have any rights. No way to get around. It’s total exploitation. No offense, Birdie.”
    “But,” Leeda ventured tentatively, “everybody’s fine with it. You should meet some of the workers. They work hard, but theyhave a good time. And they can make enough in one