“God, I don’t want to walk anymore!” Martina laughed and sat down besides me, laying back in the warm sand.I began stripping off my clothes and ...wimsuit, applying plenty of sun block along with it. Even though I tried to be careful about my skin, I could already feel it getting burnt and red in places. Martina rolled over to me and helped me put some lotion on my back. “Poor girl,” she said. “You burn easy.”I shrugged. “It’s part of being a redhead,” I said, enjoying her hands on my skin and. In order to make a good impression, David had donned a button-up shirt, while I had eschewed my usual red nail polished for a more subdued and grams-friendly pink. It seemed that we were prepared, but I still worried for David, facing a tiny but potentially ferocious Grandma Goliath. ‘The Mardi Gras? You have to be kidding me. Only in Las Vegas would a hotel try to look like New Orleans in pink neon.’ Since our trip to New Orleans the year before, my sister had become the world’s greatest. More

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