Drift (Lengths) by Steph Campbell, Liz Reinhardt Page A

I feel like the rest of you have this secret language. Like you rag on each other and joke around, and when I try to get in the mix, I come off sounding like a stuck up egomaniac.”
    I think back to the many quips and pokes I was sure would be hilarious, but wound up sending one of my sisters stomping away furious or in tears. Or one of my brothers shaking his head and telling me to tone down the asshole.
    Cece stubs out her cigarette, grabs mine, and takes a last, long drag before she stubs it out too.
    “It hurts to watch you pretend to smoke. You’re like a horrible after-school special.” She unwraps a Lifesaver and hands it to me, then crunches on two. “Maybe when we were younger, you did come off that way. You can be really tough. And I think things were super hard for us girls when Gen was finding her way. You know how sensitive she is, and you could be a little callous when it came to her feelings. I tended to side with her because it felt like she needed someone to defend her.”
    Cece’s gentle tone doesn’t make her words stab at me any less intensely.
    “I know.” I trace my finger over the ornate stitching on Cece’s sari bedcover. “A lot of times, I felt like I had nothing to offer. You know? I’m not this reliable go-to person like Cohen. I’m not this crazy intellectual like you are. I don’t have Gen’s sweetness or Enzo’s charm. I feel like I’m the least Rodriguez-like out of all of us.”
    Cece snorts. “I always felt like you were the most Rodriguez-like, and the rest of us just never measured up.” She tugs on the edge of my skirt. “You know, things are changing now that we’re all getting our shit together. I love my friends. But you’re my sister . It would be really cool if you could also be my friend.”
    “I’d like that,” I say, trying not to sniffle too hard.
    Damnit! The pitbull lawyer part of me seems to drift further away every second.
    “And friends are honest with each other.” Cece clears her throat and raises her eyebrows at me. “You need to confront Richard. You need to get your job back. You worked too goddamn hard to just let him rip it away from you.”
    “I know.” I press my fingers to my temples. “But how?”
    Cece’s laugh cuts through my burgeoning headache. “If anyone could figure it out, it’s you, Lyd.” My sister hands me another Lifesaver. “And while you’re coming up with your master plan, there’s something kind of personal I need to talk to you about. I want you to keep a very open mind.”
    I suck on the minty candy and nod. “Go ahead.”
    “It’s about Isaac.” She tugs her curls down and starts shaking them, the way she does when she’s super nervous.
    “Cece, I have no idea what you’re going to say, but could it possibly be worse than what I confessed about my stupid career disaster?” I laugh. She doesn’t. My eyes go wide, and I’m very thankful these lifesavers are equipped with a hole in case you swallow them accidentally. Otherwise I’d be very dead. “What is it?” I wheeze.
    “Isaac is a brilliant artist.”
    “I know that.” My heart punches in my chest.
    “He’s a genius. I heard from the girl I share an office with that he’s a card-carrying member of MENSA and all that.”
    “I did not know that,” I say, mint mixing with the sour taste of nerves on my tongue. I knew he was smart, but beyond brilliant? That’s another bonus. These are good things. So why the nervousness?
    “A lot of people would describe him as an old soul,” Cece says with this bright kind of hope in her voice. Like she hopes I’ll agree with her, but isn’t sure. She’s not looking at me, but at the paint peeling off the window ledge. “I mean, now that I met him, I get why. And it makes perfect sense —”
    “Cece!” The lifesaver lodged in my throat aches. My curiosity aches. My patience is a frazzled, aching mess. “ Please . Just tell me.”
    “I think you two have incredible chemistry. It’s