Compulsion by Martina Boone

did I miss, Cos? I swear, it’s been busier at this table than the kissing booth at the barbecue festival. Lord, I hate this place.” Her eyes narrowed, and for a moment she looked very different, not pretty at all. “You may as well get used to everyone getting into your business if you’re going to stick around. They think they own our families. Eight and I have lived here all our lives. We’re old news. Imagine what it’s going to be like for you with everyone watching to see what you do.”
    It was Barrie’s worst nightmare. “I’m not that interesting,” she said, staring hard at her congealing fries and cooling hot dog. “I’m sure they’ll get tired of me pretty fast.”
    “You don’t understand, do you? It doesn’t matter how boring you are. They’ll compare you to your mama, and her mama before that. They’ll judge you because you’re Emmett Watson’s granddaughter, and Thomas Watson’s great-great-great—who even cares how many greats—granddaughter. They’ll shake their heads about Lula and Uncle Wade running off together, but in the end they’ll forgive you because you’re a Watson. Just like they’ll blame me because I’m a Colesworth.”
    She said it so matter-of-factly, with almost no hint of bitterness. Barrie couldn’t help but like her. How could anyone not like Cassie?
    “Still, I’ll bet they’re wrong about you, aren’t they?” Cassie’s thick-lashed eyes narrowed in speculation. “You’re not just a Watson. You’re a Colesworth, too. I can feel it.” She gave Barrie another dazzling smile. “But listen to me going on and on when I should be telling you how glad I am that you’re here! Isn’t it wonderful?” She threw her arms around Barrie and gave her a squeeze. “I can’t believe I have a brand-new cousin. It’s like Christmas in June. That’s it exactly—you’re my Christmas-present cousin. I just know we’re going to be best friends. I can’t wait for you to meet my sister, Sydney, and the rest of the family. Daddy hasn’t talked about anything else since he heard you were coming. He’s dying to hear all about you and what Lula told you about us—”
    “Lula didn’t tell her anything about anything ,” Eightsaid. “She never heard of Watson’s Landing until her mama died.”
    Cassie drew back to frown at Barrie. “Nothing at all?”
    Something about Cassie’s intensity made Barrie nervous. She resisted the urge to slide down the bench to give herself a little more breathing room. “Lula never talked about my father or where she came from. After the fire I guess it was too painful to think about it.”
    “Didn’t you ever ask?” Cassie leaned over and took a couple of cold fries out of Barrie’s basket. She chewed on them thoughtfully while Barrie shook her head.
    Barrie wasn’t about to admit how many times she’d asked, or tried to ask, Lula questions. Lula had been Lula. She hadn’t talked about anything she hadn’t wanted to discuss.
    “Jesus,” Cassie said. “Imagine showing up here and getting all this dumped on you. You have to be curious, too, I’ll bet.” She smiled, her foot tapping as if she were thinking. “My daddy’s got loads of old photos back at the house. You should come over. Maybe after the play—” She glanced at Eight, and her mouth snapped closed.
    An awkward silence hung over the table. Barrie struggled to think of something to say, but she’d never been good at that.
    “I’m sorry.” Cassie touched Barrie’s shoulder, her face serious, her eyes big and wide. “This is exactly like me, jumping to conclusions. You may not even want to know anythingabout your daddy. San Francisco had to have been amazing. So much better than this suffocating town. Look at these gorgeous clothes . . . and your jewelry.” She plucked Barrie’s necklace off her shirt. “Are these Tiffany keys? They are, aren’t they?” Almost reverently her fingers ran over the three keys with their tiny diamonds set in