Sally is never comfortable around Gideon; she finds him rude and obnoxious and has always considered him a bad influence. But seeing him and Kylie playing soccer, she feels a wave of relief. Kylie is laughing as Gideon stumbles over his own boots as he chases after the ball. She’s not hurt or kidnapped, she’s here on this field of grass, running as fast as she can. It’s a hot, lazy afternoon, a day like any other, and Sally would do well to relax. She’s silly to have been so certain that something was about to go wrong. That’s what she tells herself, but it’s not what she believes. When Antonia comes home, thrilled to have gotten a summer job at the ice cream parlor up on the Turnpike, Sally is so suspicious she insists on calling the owner and finding out what Antonia’s hours and responsibilities will be. She asks for the owner’s personal history as well, including address, marital status, and number of dependents.

“Thanks for embarrassing me,” Antonia says coolly when Sally hangs up the phone. “My boss will think I’m real mature, having my mother check on me.”

These days Antonia wears only black, which makes her red hair seem even more brilliant. Last week, to test out her allegiance to black clothes, Sally bought her a white cotton sweater trimmed with lace, which she knew any number of Antonia’s girlfriends would have died for. Antonia tossed the sweater into the washer with a package of Rit dye, then threw the coal-colored thing into the dryer. The result was an article of clothing so small that whenever she wears it Sally frets that Antonia will wind up running off with someone, just the way Gillian did. It worries Sally to think that one of her girls might follow in her sister’s footsteps, a trail that has led to only self-destruction and wasted time, including three brief marriages, not one of which yielded a cent of alimony.

Certainly, Antonia is greedy the way beautiful girls sometimes are, and she thinks quite well of herself. But now, on this hot June day, she is suddenly filled with doubt. What if she isn’t as special as she thinks she is? What if her beauty fades as soon as she passes eighteen, the way it does with some girls, who have no idea that they’ve peaked until it’s all over and they glance in the mirror to discover they no longer recognize themselves. She’s always assumed she’ll be an actress someday; she’ll go to Manhattan or Los Angeles the day after graduation and be given a leading role, just as she has been all the way through high school. Now she’s not so sure. She doesn’t know if she has any talent, or if she even cares. Frankly, she never liked acting much; it was having everyone stare at her that was so appealing. It was knowing they couldn’t take their eyes off her.

When Kylie comes home, all sweaty and grass-stained and gawky, Antonia doesn’t even bother to insult her.

“Didn’t you want to say something to me?” Kylie asks tentatively when they meet in the hallway. Her brown hair is sticking straight up and her cheeks are flushed and blotchy with heat. She’s a perfect target and she knows it.

“You can use the shower first,” Antonia says in a voice so sad and dreamy it doesn’t even sound like her.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Kylie says, but Antonia has already drifted down the hall, to paint her nails red and consider her future, something she has never once done before.

By dinnertime Sally has nearly forgotten the sense of dread she carried around earlier in the day. Never believe what you can’t see, that’s always been Sally’s motto. You have nothing to fear but fear itself, she quoted again and again when her girls were little and convinced monsters resided on the second shelf of the laundry closet in the hall. But just when she’s relaxed enough to consider having a beer, the shades in the kitchen snap shut all at once, as if there is a buildup of energy in the walls. Sally has made a bean and tofu salad, carrot sticks, and cold marinated broccoli, with angel food cake for dessert. The cake, however, is now doubtful; when the shades snap closed the cake begins to sink, first on one side, then on the other, until it is as flat as a serving plate.

“It’s nothing,” Sally says to her daughters about the way the shades seem to have been activated by a strange force, but her voice sounds unsteady, even to herself.

The evening is so humid and dense that laundry left on the line will only get wetter if left out overnight. The sky is deep blue, a curtain of heat.

“It’s something, all right,” Antonia says, because an odd sort of wind has just started up. It comes in through the screen door and the open windows, rattling the silverware and the dinner plates. Kylie has to run and get herself a sweater. Even though the temperature is still climbing, the wind is giving her the shivers; it’s making goose bumps rise along her skin.