Adonis' father's brilliant white mansion had a basketball court. On Friday, she found herself playing a game against her brother. As she dribbled, the basketball slapped the pavement rhythmically. Her brother, Achilles stood in front of her in a loose, red jersey and black shorts. Nurtured by sunlight, the surrounding trees were bright green. The sky was clear blue, much like siblings' eyes at that moment.
Achilles leaned forward, arms out to the sides, to block. As she dribbled, Adonis danced backwards, then forwards, then back again, her tongue sticking out in concentration. Every time she tried to get close to the net, her brother blocked her from taking a shot. By midday, they were both soaked in sweat, and panting.
Adonis varied the tempo of her dribbling in an attempt to throw off her brother. No matter what fancy footwork she performed, his eyes stayed on the ball. To win the game, she needed a new plan. She stared over his shoulder, her mouth gaping. "Oh my god," she said, her voice low with a tinge of fear.
"I'm not falling for it," Achilles said, continuing to guard her.
"No. No. Don't come here," she said, staring at the same spot—she imagined some huge, hairy creature approaching them. "What in heaven's name is that?" she asked.
She saw the vein in Achilles' neck tense. He wanted to turn around but didn't trust her. She had to push harder. She needed him to fall for her trick so she could win. Wearing a fearful expression, she imagined that the hairy creature was walking towards them with its claws raised. "Nope. I'm getting out of here," she said, retreating from the net, but continuing to dribble.
Achilles finally fell for it and turned slightly to look behind him. He was distracted for a split second, but she rushed forward and shot from the three-point line. Realizing his error, Achilles jumped, attempting to block, but he was late. The ball made a beautiful arc towards the net and swished through the hoop, landing on the pavement below and bouncing to the side. Adonis kissed her fingers. "Magnigficiento."
Achilles retrieved the ball, a disappointed, but knowing look on his face. He said, "Every time. You get me every time."
Adonis laughed. It was a beautiful sound that filled the empty space around them. Birds chirped in response. Adonis did some sidelunges, stretching her legs, basking in her glory. Achilles cut her moment short, saying, "It's my turn."
He sprinted forward, dribbling the ball towards centre court. Adonis abandoned her lunges and chased after him as he picked up speed. Before he outran her, she jumped onto his back and wrapped her legs around his waist. Her slender arms hugged his neck. Achilles stopped dribbling and said, "Bro, I don't think you're playing this game right."
Adonis dismissed the notion with a wave of her hand, saying, "Nonsense. We can make up rules as we go along."
Achilles breathed in through clenched teeth and said, "The thing is, brother, I feel like you are cheating right now. If I did what you did, you would call it a fault."
"Only because you are heavier than me." She smiled.
Achilles grunted.
A maid walked alongside the court, carrying a tray with two glasses of iced lemonade and sandwiches. Achilles walked over to her, carrying Adonis as she clung to his back. She enjoyed the piggyback ride. It was good to have a strong brother who could carry her, she decided. Achilles thanked the maid, took the tray, and dismissed her. As the maid walked away, he placed the tray on the ground with the plastic cover in place, somehow managing to keep Adonis on his back he did so.
She released him shortly after, placing her sneakers on the grass. They washed their hands by the outdoor pipe and sat in the grass near the court to eat. Adonis bunched her knees in front of her, so the grass wouldn't itch her exposed skin and drank some lemonade. It was nice and sweet. They both had a sweet tooth though they had different mothers. As she drank, she wondered if they had gotten if from their father. Some of the sandwiches had crusts, some didn't. Adonis ate the ones without—grilled cheese that warmed her tongue. Her brothers were egg salad which she hated.
The two of them could be honest when they were alone. But they were always eyes watching behind windows, reporting their actions to their father. Everything they did was judged. One child was worthy of inheriting the company; the other was a flirty gay. The divide between them sometimes soured their friendship. Adonis didn't want to dislike her brother, but sometimes she did. He was the good, perfect child. The child everyone wanted to take over the company after their father retired. She was garbage.
Achilles said, "When are you going to tell Dad the truth?"
"About what?"
"Tu género?" he spoke in Spanish in case the servants were listening. They didn't see any, but it was better to be careful. If Adonis was caught, there would be severe consequences. Achilles continued, "Father and I were angry for two different reasons. Him because you were gay. I was worried because it would have destroyed any plans you had for the future. If Emmett had found out that you were—you know, your life would change drastically.
"Worst— if he had raped you and you got a child from that, father would have found out anyway, and you would have to raise a child at 15-ish. That would mean no school for nine months or so while it grew in your tummy. Then, once it was born, we would have to hide it, keep you from going out in public, and trust Emmett not to say anything, which is unlikely because the guy doesn't seem good at keeping secrets.
As Adonis ate another sandwich, Achilles continued, "In case you haven't noticed, nearly every guy from our graduating class has seen you in a dress, and that puts you in a very dangerous situation. To some guys, a hole is just a hole— and if the person they're doing it with is beautiful, they don't care. If that person can't get pregnant, maybe they're using protection, or they are a tranny—which is what people are starting to think you are, then they'll fuck them."
Adonis played with a short blonde curl near her ear. She was tired of this conversation. She messed up one time, and people acted like it was the end of the world. Hadn't she changed since then? She didn't flirt with Gregory anymore. Actually, she hadn't spoken to him a few days—she wanted to, but she couldn't bring herself to break the silence. He hadn't texted her in five days, not even to check if she was alright, not that he had to check anymore. She was clearly avoiding him. She wouldn't make the mistake she made with Emmett again.
Achilles sighed. "I'm one person. I can't be the only person who knows the truth because I'm not always going to be there to knock sense into you or protect you. Father loves you—he doesn't understand you, but he loves you. If you gave him the opportunity to know the truth, your relationship will be much better."
"He'll let me date guys?" she asked sarcastically, already knowing the answer.
"Of course not. But he'll understand that you don't wear dresses because you are a guy who wants to be a girl. He'll understand that you had a role forced onto you, and were never given the opportunity to choose. You do things like that because you want to know what it feels like. You think: 'What if I was like every other girl?' 'What if I wore dresses and makeup and all that jazz?'" He smiled faintly at her. "You have certainly talked to me about it before. But I didn't think you were dumb enough to do something like meet some fucking toolbag in a dress. Now, I'm doubting my abilities to protect you. If you were...." He glanced around them, then whispered, "with child. I would need Dad's help to take care of you. I would need his resources: money, and a network of people we could trust to not report you to the authorities for fraud."
Adonis placed her arms on her knees and rested her head on them. She turned her head to look at her brother. Her vision blurred as she imagined herself in such a vulnerable position. She blinked to clear her gaze. She said, "I can't tell him."
"Please." Achilles stroked her hair, comforting her. "I have asked my parents to have dinner with you tonight. We'll do it then."
"You can't plan things like that without my permission. I can't tell him the truth. You don't understand what this is like. I would love to tell him, but I can't, Acki. I can't." Acki was the nickname she had given him when they were kids. Her ten-year-old self had felt that "Achilles" had too many letters and looked ugly on paper. 'Acki' was short and to the point. Cute.
"Adonis." He leaned over and kissed her cheek. "You'll be okay. I'll be there."
But she was already spiraling. She wanted to run away; she hadn't prepared for this. It was beyond her calculations. She wasn't ready. What if Gus rejected her? What if he exposed her identity and turned her over to authorities because he had a daughter? There was no question about it; for as long as she could remember, her mother had told her that Gus didn't want a daughter. That he wouldn't give her his company. That he would hate her and abandon them. They would live in tents on the street, becoming skinny and dirty. If Adonis came out to them, she could lose the allowance she had regained and have to go and ask that smug asshole for another loan with her head bowed in submission.
No bank would give a big loan to a fourteen-year-old boy with no assets. And a girl wouldn't have a bank account unless a male guardian created one for her; a girl couldn't take out a loan on her own, she needed a guy to sign for her.
"I can't do it," she said. It was too risky.
"Adonis, I know my father. He loves you—you are his blood, your mother might be a bitch, but you are still his, and he feels responsible for you."
"Because he thinks I'm his son."
Achilles shook his head. "No. Because you are his child."
***