Free Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants by Ann Brashares

she managed to forestall this issue indefinitely. She’d gone out with guys for months at a time and not had this conversation. It was strange that with Eric it had come up in the first two minutes. Carmen would take that as a sign of something, but then Carmen was always looking for signs. Bridget never did.
    “You go to Columbia now?” she asked, leaving her discomfort on the path behind them.
    “Yeah.”
    “Do you like it?”
    “It’s a strange school for an athlete,” he said. “Sports aren’t exactly a big emphasis there.”
    “Right.”
    “But it’s got a great soccer program, and the academics are obviously good. That was a big deal to my mom.”
    “Makes sense,” she said. His profile was awfully nice.
    He was picking up the pace now. She took that as a challenge. She always enjoyed a challenge.
    She glanced back to see that the group had thinned a lot. She kept with him stride for stride. She loved the feeling of strain in her muscles, the exhilaration that came with mounting exhaustion.
    “How old are you?” he asked her point-blank.
    She was hoping to finesse this issue. She knew she was among the youngest girls here. “Sixteen,” she answered. She would be soon. It wasn’t a crime to round up, was it? “What about you?”
    “Nineteen,” he answered.
    That wasn’t such a big difference. Particularly if she were sixteen.
    “Are you thinking about colleges yet?” he asked.
    “Maybe University of Virginia,” she said. She actually had no idea. The truth was, the coach at UVA had already commented on Bridget to her high school coach. Bridget knew she didn’t have to worry much about college, even if her grades weren’t that spectacular.
    “Great school,” he said.
    Now she was pushing the pace. She was feeling good, and the excitement of being this close to Eric was energizing her muscles. They circled back around to finish the run up the beach.
    “You must be pretty serious about running,” he said to her.
    She laughed. “I haven’t run in months.” And with that, she accelerated to a near sprint. The rest of the group had fallen far behind. She was curious to see whether Eric would stick to his preset pace or abandon it to keep up with her.
    She felt his elbow brush hers. She smiled. “Race ya.”
    They sprinted the half mile up the beach. There was so much adrenaline filling Bridget’s veins, she could have flown the distance.
    She collapsed on the sand. He collapsed too. “I think we set a record,” he said.
    She spread out her arms, happy. “I’ve always been goal oriented.” Bridget rolled around in the sand until she was covered like a sugar doughnut. He watched her, laughing.
    The rest of the group would catch up in a couple of minutes. She stood and kicked off her shoes and socks. She looked right at him when she pulled off her shorts, revealing her bikini bottoms; then she yanked the elastic out of her hair. Yellow clumps stuck to her sweaty shoulders and back.
    He looked away.
    “Let’s swim,” she said.
    His face was serious now. He didn’t move.
    She didn’t wait for him. She waded in several yards and then dove under. When she came up, she saw that he had stripped off his soaked T-shirt. She didn’t pretend not to stare.
    Eric dove in after her, just as she prayed he would. He swam past where she was and surfaced a few yards away.
    Bridget raised her arms in the air for no reason. She jumped up and down in the water, unable to contain her energy. “This is the best place in the world.”
    He laughed again, his serious face gone.
    She dove under the surface and plummeted to the sandy bottom. Slowly she passed his feet. Without thinking, she reached out her hand and touched his ankle with her finger, light as a triggerfish.

W hen Lena arrived in the kitchen the next morning for breakfast, only her grandfather was awake. “Kalemera,” she said.
    He nodded and blinked in acknowledgment. She sat down across from him at the small kitchen table. He pointed the