Scott pulled out his putter and did a little dance, using the putter as a prop. He wobbled ignominiously. Then he stared at the gator. He said, “Whaddaya think that fellow would do if I gave him a poke?”

John looked at Scott, then at the golf club. “With that thing?”

Scott nodded. “You think he’d bite my dick off?”

“He might,” John said.

Kimmy and Ryan were in the water, Alex had just gone up to the house for something to drink, and Rae was seated on a lawn chair under the shade of a large canvas umbrella. She wore a black bikini and large plastic sunglasses. She was alternating between observing Ryan and her sister out in the surf through her binoculars and rereading the same passage of her book that she had read a hundred times before.

Of course, Rae didn’t give two hoots about birds. She had brought the binoculars along on vacation because they made her look chic and sophisticated. As it turned out, the bird-watching lie, though unplanned, had panned out quite well. Indeed, the binoculars were not only a cool accessory, but they also provided prime cover for staring at people, and staring at people was one of Rae’s favorite things to do.

Ryan had been snorkeling for a while but was now wading casually around a sandbar in turquoise water that reached his waist. The water was calm, and Kimmy had joined him at the sandbar for handstands. Now the two of them were chatting.

Kimmy wore a silver one-piece, and she bounced and paddled and floated around, looking as happy and sleek and at home out there as a little fish. Ryan pointed at something in the water and Kimmy listened intently. Then she was laughing, all big and cute and shaking out her hair, pulling and snapping the straps of her silver swimsuit, obviously thinking she was hot shit. Rae adjusted the focus on the binoculars. Kimmy was chattering, face lit up and wildly expressive. She was probably humiliating herself per usual, Rae thought, with incredibly boring and detailed stories that lacked a satisfying conclusion.

Rae’s grumpiness was compounding. She found her younger sister incredibly annoying lately. It was just in the past few months that Kimmy had become interested in mascara and brand names and boys. Rae resented her little sister for a thousand things; at this moment it was for the way Kimmy was splashing carelessly and confidently around in the water with Ryan. He was seventeen, so of course nothing would ever happen between the two of them, but it was still really annoying and unsettling. What on earth could they be talking about out there all this time anyway? What could they possibly have in common?

See, Rae had real, actual adult interests that Ryan would probably want to hear about, if Kimmy would stop demanding all his attention. Rae enjoyed literature and movies and other grown-up things. She’d had wine and whiskey and other adult beverages before, and she liked them. She had started horseback-riding lessons several years ago at a stable ten miles from home. Her parents had said they would buy her a horse if she stuck with lessons for one more year. Rae could explain to Ryan the difference between English- and western-style riding, and why she preferred English, and all the different components of a saddle. She could tell Ryan that the horse she rode, Casper, was a beautiful Arabian, and he competed in dressage. (Rae could say this word with the proper intonation, because she had taken a semester of French in eighth grade and was well versed in French culture.) See, Rae was refined and interesting and elegant, whereas Kimmy—Rae stared at her sister—whereas, God, Kimmy was like a cheap mechanical toy that had been too tightly wound.