Chapter 2: Chapter Two: A Growing Distance
The Sinclair house was always lively, but tonight, it felt especially vibrant. The twins had planned a "casual get-together," though nothing the Sinclairs did was ever truly casual. Eliza made her way up the stone steps to the backyard patio, her stomach twisting with the familiar mix of excitement and discomfort. The laughter from the pool and the soft beat of music reached her before she saw anyone. The lights around the patio twinkled against the evening sky, reflecting off the water in golden ripples.
"Eliza! Over here!" Vanessa waved from a cushioned chaise lounge near the pool. She looked radiant, her flowing dress catching the soft breeze, her hair effortlessly styled as though she hadn't spent an hour perfecting it. Tessa sat beside her, scrolling through her phone, a playful smirk on her face as she showed Vanessa something amusing.
Eliza waved back, making her way to them with a practiced smile. Her sundress—the same thrift store find she'd worn last week—felt faded in more ways than one as she sat down next to Vanessa, who immediately threw a warm arm around her shoulders.
"Glad you made it!" Tessa said without looking up from her phone, her voice filled with the usual energy. "We were just about to grab more drinks. Want one?"
Eliza nodded, grateful for a moment to collect herself. The twins always managed to look like they'd stepped out of a fashion editorial, while she constantly felt like she was playing dress-up, trying to keep pace in a race she hadn't trained for. She adjusted the hem of her dress, suddenly hyper-aware of the tiny fray near the edge. She was used to these feelings by now, but tonight they weighed a little heavier.
The crowd tonight was different. Most of the people gathered by the pool were the twins' friends from their private-school circle—polished, tanned, and confident in a way that made Eliza feel like an outsider. Their laughter carried over the sound of splashing water, and the easy way they spoke of designer brands and jet-setting vacations felt like listening to a foreign language.
Vanessa returned with a drink, something pink and sparkling that looked impossibly fancy. "You'll love this," she said, placing it in Eliza's hand with a grin. "Our mixologist made it for us at last weekend's Hamptons party."
Eliza took a cautious sip. It was refreshing, sweet with a tangy aftertaste. She smiled, nodding in agreement even though she had no idea what was in it. Just the word "mixologist" felt foreign to her—where she came from, drinks were simple and no one paid extra for fancy bartenders.
"So," Tessa started, flipping her hair back. "We were talking about our trip to St. Barts next month. We've already booked the villa. You should totally come, Eliza."
Eliza paused mid-sip, her fingers tightening around the glass. She tried to hide the panic rising in her chest. "St. Barts?"
"Yeah, it's going to be amazing," Vanessa chimed in, her eyes gleaming with excitement. "Private beach, the works. You'll love it. You have to come."
Eliza's heart sank. A trip like that was out of the question. She couldn't even afford a weekend away, let alone a luxury vacation. Her mind immediately went to her mother, working late shifts to make sure they didn't fall behind on rent. The idea of flying off to a tropical island felt like a slap in the face to her reality.
"I… I don't know," Eliza stammered, trying to think of an excuse. "I don't think I can afford it."
Tessa waved her hand dismissively. "Don't worry about it. We'll figure something out. You're coming, no debate."
There it was again. That well-meaning generosity that only made Eliza feel worse. She didn't want to be the charity case, the one they always had to "figure something out" for. She wanted to pull her own weight, to contribute like a real friend—not be carried along on the coattails of their wealth.
"That's really sweet of you, but… I don't know if I can swing it," she said, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.
Tessa seemed ready to press the issue, but Vanessa, ever the peacemaker, changed the subject, much to Eliza's relief. But even as the conversation moved on, the knot of discomfort stayed firmly in place.
As the evening wore on, the air around the pool cooled, and the group migrated to the dining area. A long table was set beneath strings of twinkling lights, the centerpiece an elaborate arrangement of flowers that probably cost more than Eliza's last three paychecks combined. The silverware gleamed, and the smell of roasted lamb wafted from the kitchen.
Eliza found herself wedged between Vanessa and one of the twins' friends, a girl named Lauren who looked like she had walked straight off the pages of a high-end fashion magazine. As the others launched into stories about yacht parties, luxury retreats, and impromptu trips to Paris, Eliza quietly picked at her food, listening but feeling more disconnected with each passing minute.
"So, Eliza," Lauren's voice broke through her thoughts, snapping her back to the present. "Vanessa tells me you're at Brookfield on a scholarship. That's so impressive. You must be, like, super smart."
Eliza flinched inwardly. It wasn't the first time someone had brought up her scholarship like it was a badge of honor, something that set her apart from the rest of them. But it always felt like a reminder of what she didn't have, of the ways she didn't belong.
"I do alright," Eliza replied, keeping her tone light, though her stomach tightened.
"That's amazing," Lauren continued, oblivious to the tension in Eliza's voice. "I could never survive without my tutor."
Tessa laughed. "Oh please, Lauren, you practically live off of SparkNotes."
The table erupted in laughter, and Eliza joined in, but it felt hollow. The truth was, she worked twice as hard just to keep up. There were no tutors, no safety nets for her. One wrong step, one bad grade, and the scholarship could be gone. The pressure was relentless, but here, surrounded by people who didn't have to worry about such things, it felt like a burden she couldn't share.
Later, after dinner, Eliza slipped away from the group and wandered to the edge of the garden. The twinkling lights behind her seemed a world away as she leaned against the cool stone railing, staring out at the perfectly manicured lawn. The night air was crisp, a welcome contrast to the warmth that had been building inside her chest all evening.
She couldn't shake the growing sense that, despite their kindness and genuine friendship, the Sinclair twins lived in a different world—one she could only visit but never truly inhabit. They were planning trips she couldn't afford, talking about clothes she couldn't buy, and living in homes that felt more like museums than places to live. It wasn't their fault; they weren't trying to make her feel small. But the gap between them was widening, and no matter how much she wanted to, she couldn't ignore it.
"Eliza?" Vanessa's voice broke through the quiet. She turned to see her friend standing just a few feet away, her brow furrowed with concern.
"You okay?" Vanessa asked gently, stepping closer. "You disappeared for a bit."
Eliza sighed, managing a small smile. "Yeah, just needed a breather. It's been… a lot."
Vanessa frowned. "You seemed kind of off tonight. Is everything alright?"
The words were there, on the tip of Eliza's tongue. She could tell Vanessa how she really felt—about the constant pressure, the growing gap, how hard it was to pretend she fit into their world. But she swallowed them down, afraid that once she opened that door, she wouldn't be able to close it again.
"I'm fine," Eliza said softly. "Just tired, I guess."
Vanessa didn't look convinced, but she nodded. "Well, if you ever need to talk…"
"I know," Eliza said, her smile genuine this time. "Thanks, V."
They stood in silence for a moment, the sounds of the party drifting back to them from the distance. Vanessa gave Eliza's arm a reassuring squeeze before heading back inside, leaving Eliza alone with her thoughts.
As she turned back to the view, the skyline glittering in the distance, Eliza couldn't help but wonder how much longer she could keep straddling these two worlds. One foot in, one foot out. Always balancing, always afraid of falling.
Maybe, she thought with a sinking heart, the fall was inevitable.
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