“Whoa!” Pop exclaims. “You know we don’t use that word.”

“Oh, grow up,” I mutter to Afton.

“I am grown up. Unlike you, who is so very immature.”

“Are you two having a fight?” Abby asks.

“God, that’s hurting my eyes,” Pop says, looking away like Afton’s bikini has become the sun, too bright to stare at directly.

“Aren’t you cold?” asks Abby.

“Well, yes.” Afton runs her hands up and down her arms, where there are, in fact, goose bumps. “But I won’t be cold in Hawaii.”

If she’s trying to prove some sort of point, I’m not sure what it is.

“You’re not wearing that in Hawaii, young lady,” Pop says. “You’ll give your mother a heart attack.”

Afton gives him a cool, assessing look. “I’m legally an adult, sorry. I can wear what I want, when I want. And when did you and Mom become such prudes?”

Pop looks even more shocked than he did when his five-year-old cheerfully uttered the word asshole. Afton has never mouthed off to him before. He stares at her in stunned bewilderment.

Afton pretends not to notice. She turns to me, holding up a hanger that has a different bathing suit on it, a white one-piece with a neckline that plunges nearly to the belly button. “Which one?”

“What are you doing? There’s no need to take things out on Pop.”

“Oh, come on.” Afton turns to gaze at herself in the mirror on my closet door. “I’m feeling the red. It’s less careful, you know? Less boring.”

Oh, so Afton’s calling me boring. I grab my robe and throw it unceremoniously at my sister. “Get out of my room. No one here wants to see that.”

Afton scoffs but retreats to her own bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

“All right, what exactly is going on here?” asks Pop.

“Afton and Ada are having a fight!” exclaims Abby excitedly.

I wave my little sister off. “Not really. Afton’s just digging up drama. We’ll be fine.”

“Did something happen with Leo?” Pop looks worried.

I consider telling him and decide against it. I always assumed I could talk to Pop about anything. But, it turns out, not this. If I think about the look on his face if I confess it all, it feels like too much, for both of us. I swallow down a lump in my throat. “Seriously, Pop, I don’t want to get into it. Let’s just pack, okay?”

I can see in his eyes that he’s deciding whether to push or not, to try to make me tell him or leave it. In the end he goes with leaving it. “Okay. But I’m here if you need me, Ada. I’d be happy to bestow my relationship wisdom upon you. Ask, and you shall receive.”

“Maybe later,” I say lightly.