Her high heels clicked against the damp slate tiles.

Father did not move.

His phone stopped vibrating in his hand, then immediately began to buzz again.

“Turn it off, Richard,” Mother whispered.

He did not answer her.

He looked at the woman from the board, his jaw tight.

“This is a private family matter, Evelyn,” Father said.

His voice was thin and dry.

“It was private,” Evelyn said, pointing a manicured finger toward the lawn. “Until five minutes ago.”

I followed her gaze toward the edge of the pool.

Dozens of my classmates stood there, their hands raised.

The sun glinted off the glass lenses of their phones.

Some of them were whispering, but most were completely silent, recording every word.

The blue light of a live-stream chat bubbled up on a screen just a few feet away from me.

“Maya,” Chloe whispered.

Her voice sounded like a child’s.

She was trembling, her hands clutching the edge of her damp beach towel.

“Tell me you’re lying,” Chloe said. “Please tell me you’re just angry.”

I looked at my sister, at her perfect, unblemished shoulders.