least you don’t have rude stuff that rhymes with you,” Kelly says gloomily. “They called me Smelly Jelly Belly at school for years.”
“And Kendra isn’t that great either. It sort of sounds like bend-ya,” Kendra adds.
I can’t help smiling that Kendra and Kelly are competitive in everything, even down to whose name rhymes with worse stuff.
“Kendra,”
Evan sings, playing a chord,
“I would never bend ya
,
or lend ya
or send ya …
Oh, the words I can engender
thinking about Kendra …”
“ ‘Engender’!” Kelly exclaims. “That’s really good!”
I pull myself out of the pool and walk over to a lounger, picking up a towel and wrapping it around myself; I sit onone side of Evan, Kelly on the other. Even cool-as-a-cucumber Kendra has sat up to watch Evan playing his guitar.
“What about Paige?” I ask, looking over at his sister, the only one uninterested in her brother’s talent. She’s got a moisturizing pack on her hair—her head is wrapped in the special leopard-skin towel she uses when she’s doing a hair treatment—pink headphones on her ears, and a magazine in her hands as she reclines on her lounger.
“Paige goes into a rage when you tell her she’s not yet legal drinking age—”
Evan sings immediately, and Paige, who must have been listening after all, promptly throws her magazine at his head. He ducks easily, and it flies past and lands on the tiles.
“You haven’t done me yet!” Kelly says wistfully, twisting her hair over one shoulder, playing with the ends. She’s got some sun since she’s been here, taking it slowly and carefully after a couple of days where she went bright pink; now her fair skin looks sun-kissed, her freckles standing out prettily across her nose, and she’s been squeezing lemon juice over her red hair to lighten it, which has worked a little. She looks very pretty staring at Evan imploringly. He grins, strums a series of soft chords, and starts to croon:
“Oh, Kelly
,
you make my legs weak like jelly
.
Oh, Kelly …
I get butterflies in my belly
.
Oh, Kelly
,
uh,
your perfume is so sweet and smelly, Kelly …”
She’s giggling now.
“Sorry,” Evan says, plucking a final chord. “Turns out even I can’t make smelly into a compliment.”
“Two out of three isn’t bad,” I point out, very impressed with Evan’s skills. He can sketch out a tune really fast, and switch between styles; one moment he’s doing a blues song, then pop, and the one he made up for me was like something from a musical.
As if he’s reading my mind, he echoes, turning to look at me, drawing out the syllables:
“Don’t forget, Vio-let—Dive in!”
This time he ends the line low and gentle, and it isn’t a musical number anymore. It’s almost a love song.
“You mind if I work on that?” he asks, leaning on the guitar, looking at me. “That’s kinda nice. I could do something with that.”
“Oh!” I don’t quite know what to say. “Sure,” I add.
“Ooh! Evan’s writing Violet a love song!” Paige whoops, coming over and retrieving her magazine. “Evan and Violet sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G!”
I expect Evan to look embarrassed, or to tell Paige to shut up, but he just grins again, bending over his guitar, starting to strum it again, quite unaffected by his sister.
“Paige,”
he sings to me,
“needs to act her age.…
Such a shame
She’s such a pain
It’s a
terrible
strain.…”
I laugh and settle back on the lounger, watching him play, his hands moving with surprising lightness and dexterity on the strings. Kelly is watching him too, and so’s Kendra, who has slipped into the pool and is propped up on the side, her dark limbs gleaming with the water, sunglasses onher nose; we’re circled around him, enchanted by someone who can make music this easily.
Well
, I admit,
a
boy
who can make music this easily
. Let’s be honest, if it were one of us, we wouldn’t all be gathering around like worshippers at a
“And Kendra isn’t that great either. It sort of sounds like bend-ya,” Kendra adds.
I can’t help smiling that Kendra and Kelly are competitive in everything, even down to whose name rhymes with worse stuff.
“Kendra,”
Evan sings, playing a chord,
“I would never bend ya
,
or lend ya
or send ya …
Oh, the words I can engender
thinking about Kendra …”
“ ‘Engender’!” Kelly exclaims. “That’s really good!”
I pull myself out of the pool and walk over to a lounger, picking up a towel and wrapping it around myself; I sit onone side of Evan, Kelly on the other. Even cool-as-a-cucumber Kendra has sat up to watch Evan playing his guitar.
“What about Paige?” I ask, looking over at his sister, the only one uninterested in her brother’s talent. She’s got a moisturizing pack on her hair—her head is wrapped in the special leopard-skin towel she uses when she’s doing a hair treatment—pink headphones on her ears, and a magazine in her hands as she reclines on her lounger.
“Paige goes into a rage when you tell her she’s not yet legal drinking age—”
Evan sings immediately, and Paige, who must have been listening after all, promptly throws her magazine at his head. He ducks easily, and it flies past and lands on the tiles.
“You haven’t done me yet!” Kelly says wistfully, twisting her hair over one shoulder, playing with the ends. She’s got some sun since she’s been here, taking it slowly and carefully after a couple of days where she went bright pink; now her fair skin looks sun-kissed, her freckles standing out prettily across her nose, and she’s been squeezing lemon juice over her red hair to lighten it, which has worked a little. She looks very pretty staring at Evan imploringly. He grins, strums a series of soft chords, and starts to croon:
“Oh, Kelly
,
you make my legs weak like jelly
.
Oh, Kelly …
I get butterflies in my belly
.
Oh, Kelly
,
uh,
your perfume is so sweet and smelly, Kelly …”
She’s giggling now.
“Sorry,” Evan says, plucking a final chord. “Turns out even I can’t make smelly into a compliment.”
“Two out of three isn’t bad,” I point out, very impressed with Evan’s skills. He can sketch out a tune really fast, and switch between styles; one moment he’s doing a blues song, then pop, and the one he made up for me was like something from a musical.
As if he’s reading my mind, he echoes, turning to look at me, drawing out the syllables:
“Don’t forget, Vio-let—Dive in!”
This time he ends the line low and gentle, and it isn’t a musical number anymore. It’s almost a love song.
“You mind if I work on that?” he asks, leaning on the guitar, looking at me. “That’s kinda nice. I could do something with that.”
“Oh!” I don’t quite know what to say. “Sure,” I add.
“Ooh! Evan’s writing Violet a love song!” Paige whoops, coming over and retrieving her magazine. “Evan and Violet sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G!”
I expect Evan to look embarrassed, or to tell Paige to shut up, but he just grins again, bending over his guitar, starting to strum it again, quite unaffected by his sister.
“Paige,”
he sings to me,
“needs to act her age.…
Such a shame
She’s such a pain
It’s a
terrible
strain.…”
I laugh and settle back on the lounger, watching him play, his hands moving with surprising lightness and dexterity on the strings. Kelly is watching him too, and so’s Kendra, who has slipped into the pool and is propped up on the side, her dark limbs gleaming with the water, sunglasses onher nose; we’re circled around him, enchanted by someone who can make music this easily.
Well
, I admit,
a
boy
who can make music this easily
. Let’s be honest, if it were one of us, we wouldn’t all be gathering around like worshippers at a
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