Thinking about the girls

I love all six of these girls, but if I had to pick a favorite, it would be Jessica. She’s a fellow introvert, and much more reserved than me; she opens up a lot around the others, but there are still times when she withdraws from the group to rebalance herself. If I’m around, she’ll come sit by me and talk. We talk about anything and everything, from our families to her future hopes to football and music; these are all thoughtful, intelligent girls, but Jessica most of all. She’s insecure about herself, though, so I do what I can to encourage and reassure her. She feels safe enough with me that sometimes she’ll lie down next to me, snuggle up and lay her head on my shoulder. I have to be careful where I put my hand, but it feels good.

Isabella is an artist and Lily’s oldest friend. The two facts are related. Isabella has wanted to be a painter for as long as she can remember; when as a little girl she saw one of Rowan’s paintings and was told that the artist lived in her town, she immediately wanted to meet her. Isabella’s parents sent Rowan a message through the gallery, and were amazed (and delighted) when she invited them over. I don’t know if my wife was hoping the two girls would become friends, but that’s what happened the moment they were introduced, and their friendship has never wavered over the years. I do know my wife believed in encouraging young artists, and in Isabella she found an eager pupil and dedicated protégé; her hit Isabella almost as hard as it hit Lily and me. Since then, Isabella’s commitment to her art has only increased, as she’s determined to honor Rowan’s memory with her work.

Bailey is the most charismatic person I’ve ever met. I don’t know what it is about her, but her personality is electric; she draws attention without trying whenever she walks into a room. Some of it is that she projects a calm self-confidence and complete comfort in her own skin. She’s had to learn to do that, because in a world that persists in thinking “race” is a thing instead of an arbitrary social construct, she’s the most mixed-race person I’ve ever heard of. Her mother is a Vietnam war baby, the daughter of a Vietnamese woman and an African-American soldier; I had the privilege of talking with them for a while at one of Bailey’s birthday parties, and they’re the most incredible couple I’ve ever met—wise, brave, gracious, patient, and impossible to intimidate. I want to be like them when I grow up. Bailey’s father is half-Norwegian, half-Cherokee; I haven’t met his parents, but the man is one tall drink of water. How Bailey came out so short, I have no idea. She didn’t come out short on energy, though.

Abby is more an observer. You can see it in her play on the court: though she’s one of the taller players on the team, she’s the point guard. Partly that’s the way she moves—she’s fluid and graceful, with no apparent effort and no wasted motion, and very quick—and partly it’s her deadeye shot from outside, but mostly it’s her court vision. She sees the play unfold and passes with anticipation, finding the open shooter just as they come open. On defense, the same vision and anticipation enable her to collect a lot of steals, blocks, and rebounds. Abby works a room the way she plays basketball, watching and listening and not saying a lot—but everything she says is on point at the right time. She’s a gentle young woman and a natural peacemaker.

Scarlett’s loud and brash and always up for something new and exciting. It’s not that she’s a stim junkie, though (or not mostly, anyway), it’s that she’s always up for a challenge. She chooses to act frivolous a lot of the time, but I don’t know why; she’s an intelligent, perceptive young woman with a sardonic sense of humor, but she seems to believe she has to conceal that fact from much of the world for her own protection. As she’s gotten to know me, she’s gotten a lot more comfortable being serious with me, letting me see her razor-sharp mind at work and hear what interests and concerns her. When there are boys around, though—and she goes through boyfriends the way NBA teams go through shoes—nothing doing. It’s one of the reasons I like it best when it’s just the girls around.

Finally, Meaghan is a lot like Bailey in some ways, except she has even more energy in an even smaller package. Well, that and she looks as Irish as a shamrock, with fair skin, freckles, blazing red hair, and deep green eyes. She has a perpetual twinkle in her eye and an impish sense of humor; the only time she ever looks innocent is when she’s just pranked someone. That’s actually an expression we see on her face rather frequently, but people rarely try to get her back anymore because she’s devilishly hard to catch out. (I suppose someone could try something like shrink-wrapping her car—Lily told me that happened to one of her other classmates this year—but that’s not Meaghan’s type of prank, and her victims always seem to want to beat her at her own game, if anything.) She likes going without a bra whenever she can, both because her breasts are small enough that she doesn’t need one and because—she actually told me this—she likes the stimulation on her nipples. I’m careful not to perv on these girls, but some days it can be hard not to see her nipples distending her shirt.