The vein on his temple bulges and he stares a hole through me. I stare back. “Why?” he asks. “You know that’s not yours.”

“Frank wanted it. And no one’s using it. What’s the big deal?”

Tata tells my sister, “Go play, Olivia.”

“I have homework,” she says.

“Go play.”

She marches out of the room, leaving me to face Tata alone. He waits until he hears our bedroom door slam. “You’re being disrespectful, Isabel.”

“You’re not being fair. Frank used to be happy when he played. Why don’t you want him to be happy?”

“I don’t have to explain anything. I’m your father.”

My breaths come short and fast. My head pounds.

“Why didn’t you know about the words on Frank’s wall? Maybe if you asked Frank to go fishing instead of Roman, Frank would be here now, not in that hospital. Why don’t you care?” I’m yelling and it doesn’t matter if anyone can hear me. Everyone in Malesso can think I’m a disrespectful daughter. I want to empty the words that have been building inside of me.

Tata stares at me like he’s never seen me before.

I leave the house. I don’t run, though. I walk, my chin up, my heart pounding, my head clear.

Exposed

Exposed

When I reach the pier, Mrs. Cruz is packing up her pictures and her folding chair. “Isabel, you arrived just in time. Would you mind helping me take my stuff home?”

“Sure.” I’m not in any hurry to return to my house.

“John Wayne usually helps me, but he’s spear fishing with Roman. Did you see the boots Roman bought John Wayne?”

I nod.

“He bought his mother a freezer, too. I don’t think he’s bought himself a thing with any of the prize money. What a respectful young man!”

I carry the chair and giant umbrella while Mrs. Cruz carries her pictures. It doesn’t take long to reach her beachside house. At the front door she says, “Just put the chair and umbrella down here. I’ll have to drag it out tomorrow. How’s Frank?”

“He’s better. I saw him today.”

“Tell him hello. Maybe John Wayne and I can visit him.”

“They’re kind of picky about visitors.”

“Oh,” she says, staring down at her feet.

I’m not sure she understands, so I add, “I mean I just got to see him today for the first time.”

“Well, please, let him know we asked about him. Thanks for your help, Isabel.”

She starts to close the door and I quickly blurt out, “Mrs. Cruz, can I see the picture you painted of my mother?”

Mrs. Cruz leads me to her sunroom, where she paints. The room practically touches the ocean’s edge. The ocean is so close, I feel like I’m on a boat instead of inside a house.