Excerpt from Barbara the Slut and Other People by Lauren Holmes, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

I followed my mom out of the water and into the crowd of towels and people. She didn't say anything or approach anyone.

"How do you say 'underwear' again?" I said.

"Pantis," said my mom.

"¡Pantis! ¡Pantis!" I called.

"Lala!" said my mom.

"What?"

"I was going to go up to girls that looked like they would want them."

"Okay," I said, "good plan."

We walked through the people until my mom spotted four girls and an older man together. She went up to them and said she was selling ropa interior from Victoria's Secret, and would they like to buy any.

One girl sat straight up and said, "¡Papá, me encanta Victoria's Secret!"

The dad looked at her and at my mom and frowned. "Huh," he said.

The other girls sat up too, and soon my mom was spreading out the underwear on one of their towels. The daughter picked out like eight pairs. One of the other girls looked at "See you tonight" and said, "Hubba hubba."

"Those are my favorite," I said.

"Su favorito," said my mom.

I wasn't sure that they were impressed with me because I was starting to get really sweaty, but the daughter grabbed a pair of the same ones and looked at her dad.

"¿A cuanto?" he asked my mom.

"Ciento cincuenta."

The dad raised his eyebrows but they bought three pairs. Then we sold some more pairs to another group of girls nearby, and when we were walking away my mom said, "See?"

• • •

Back at the motel my mom checked some Swiss people out and I went swimming in the pool. Later my mom came out and read, and I spent the afternoon sleeping until I was too hot, and then swimming until I was too tired.

At the end of the day we went back to the beach to watch the sunset. My mom said that when the sun set in Pie de la Cuesta, it lit up the backs of the waves, and you could see the silhouettes of kids swimming. Tonight the waves were too small, although they didn't look small to me. If I were braver I would have gone in and felt the water rush over my body and my head, and I probably would have been fine. But I was scared. My mom wasn't one to tell me something was dangerous if it wasn't. And she was sometimes one to tell me something was safe when it wasn't.

• • •

When the sun went down we went back to the apartment and got ready to go out to dinner. My mom came out of the bathroom with makeup on and said, "My friend is going to meet us at the restaurant. Is that okay?"

"A man?" I said.

"No, a woman. Of course, baby, a man. His name is Martin and he's from Pah-ree. You're going to love his accent." I assumed Pah-ree meant Paris.

"Great," I said.

The restaurant was ten motels down and when we got close we saw Martin waiting outside. He was tall and skinny and he waved at us.

"Oh shit, I forgot to tell you something," said my mom. "I only speak Spanish, okay? I'll explain later."

"How am I supposed to talk to you?" I said.

"You speak Spanish."

"I haven't spoken Spanish since I was five," I said.

Now Martin was twenty feet from us and he said, "¡Hola!"

"Bonsoir!" called my mom.

"Jesus," I said.

Martin gave my mom a kiss on the cheek. He shook my hand and gave me a kiss on the cheek too. He had a big nose but he was handsome and he had a lot of hair, which my mom likes. He didn't have a French mustache or anything. He was wearing a white button-up shirt and gray shorts.

The restaurant was a big patio, and there were folding chairs and folding tables with picnic covers. There were a lot of families with little kids. We sat at a table in the back and it felt like we were right on the beach. It was dark but I could see the waves licking the sand.