She wasn’t naked; I would tell myself later that what she’d exposed was little more than what you’d see if you came upon her at the beach. And yet it was more. Her bra was white lace, and when she turned, I could see the brown skin of her proud little breasts and the shadows of her nipples, bigger and darker than I’d imagined them. (I had, yes. Hadn’t you?) Her panties were heartbreakingly girlish: pink cotton with white scalloped trim and a little bow in front.

“What are you doing?” Luke said. There was no alarm on his face, or even surprise, but his voice had gone hollow, as though he were at the bottom of a bowl.

“I’m making sure you understand the rules,” Serena said. She raised her arms. The shadow of a hawk passed over her like a blessing.

“Put your clothes on,” Luke said. Serena only laughed at him. He was following the script, but he wasn’t selling it. She did a few twirls, tucking one leg in like my Green Tara, and then, without saying anything, began to walk back up the path.

Laurel scooped up the discarded dress. “Well,” she said. “Bye.”

I tried to catch Janet’s eye, but Laurel had already taken her hand; they followed Serena’s retreating form without looking back. I only realized later that Janet hadn’t said a word during this entire exchange.

Serena: I wish I could describe her body to you now. But you know it, you’ve seen it. Anyway, the image I retain isn’t of her flesh at all, but of the sun half blotted out by her hip, lighting up the little hairs there, piercing my vision when she moved, so that when she finally disappeared around the bend, I could see the negative imprint of her body in shimmering bruise pink, patterned over and over again against the grass.

Once they were all out of sight, Luke unlocked the door. But instead of stepping back to let me in, he stepped forward, and left the garden without a word, disappearing into the woods, in almost the exact opposite direction that Serena had gone.