Paper Dolls by Anya Allyn Page A

enormous fish bowl—bright colors everywhere and tropical fish statues hanging from the soaring ceiling.
    We wound our way through the tourists and through to the restaurant. Aisha and I kept our sunhats on—though not one person looked our way anyway.
    True to their word, Zach and Emerson paid for lunch. Aisha and I each ordered a light lunch—neither of us ate as much as we used to. It hurt my stomach if I had more than a sandwich or small salad at any one time.
    Emerson mouth curved up at one end. “You girls eat like birds.”
    “Expensive birds,” said Aisha. “My salad has lobster in it.”
    “Still loving that accent,” he told her. “I’d pay for a dozen lunches if I got to sit and listen to you talk.”
    Aisha glanced at me. “Why didn’t you tell me American boys were so smooth?” she joked.
    Emerson laughed. “I get even smoother out at sea. That’s if you ladies would care to come out on the boat for a quick trip around the island?”
    Aisha held up a hand. “Thanks, but no. Our parents wouldn’t go for that.”
    “They’re pretty strict, your parents.” Emerson shot Aisha a regretful look.
    “Yeah, very,” she agreed.
    Our lunches came—beautifully presented and complete with edible flowers. I had to restrain myself from eating quickly. Starvation was not an easy experience to overcome. It was even difficult to watch other people in the restaurant as they pushed away half-eaten plates of food and left their tables.
    Zach and Emerson woofed down their food, so I guessed I needn’t have felt weird for polishing off my lunch within a couple of minutes.
    “You girls are the first I’ve ever seen to eat the flowers on their plate.” Zach chuckled. “But I have to say it’s a pretty sight.”
    “I hope you girls are not going to eat and run,” said Emerson. “Play you a game of ping pong. Or better still, pool—do you girls play that?” He nodded towards the pool tables out in the Atrium.
    Aisha and I eyed each other. Our parents were expecting us back straight after lunch—but I guessed that as long as we didn’t leave The Atrium it was okay.
    “Yeah, I play. I have a big brother,” said Aisha.
    “I play a mean game too.” Back in Miami, pool was mostly what I did with my friends.
    “Alright, game on!” said Emerson.
    We walked to the only empty pool table. Kids no older than thirteen played at the other tables nearby. A big-screen TV was suspended overhead the tables, showing an American talk show that no one was watching. People were caught up in their own little vacation bubbles.
    I pulled the hat from my head—it was going to be distracting to have that on while playing. Aisha followed suit, shaking her long dark hair free.
    Emerson smiled in appreciation. “Nice to finally see you two. It was worth the wait.”
    Aisha shrugged a shoulder, grinning.
    Zach racked up the balls. "Okay, Kate and me on one team and Anna and Emerson on the other."
    Zach took the break, his t-shirt pulling tight over his back and shoulder muscles as he leaned low over the table. My stomach turned to water. I didn’t think the sight of a boy would ever do that kind of stuff to my insides again.
    Emerson shook his head slowly. “C’mon Anna, we gotta show them what we’re made of!”
    A loud group of tourists moved onto the sofa near our table. All of them had a nasal Australian strine and used the word
jeez
every second sentence. A woman dressed in a floral dress that showed every roll pressed her back into the sofa and fanned herself with a brochure. A man in a striped shirt and skinny legs in platform sandals patted her hand and said, “Jeez love, are ya okay? D’wannanother drink? Hot as hell out there.”
    The others that were with them—another couple—began relaying a story about how their air-conditioner had
carked it
last summer and how they almost died.
    The tourists stayed put, fanning themselves and complaining about the heat.
    The talk show host on the screen above introduced