by Jen Calonita
Izzie started to laugh and squeezed his finger tighter. “I get it! You’re the animal whisperer! Every sea creature and bird you’ve encountered agrees that it is too cold for us to be in the water, and they’re right. I admit defeat.” Satisfied, Brayden unhooked their fingers.
Izzie tried not to appear disappointed when he let go. She glanced around the nearly deserted ice-cream shop. The pier was still officially open for another few weeks, but most of the seasonal T-shirt, arcade, boardwalk fries, and custard stands would close that weekend. After the annual Halloween parade, no one really visited the wind-whipped boardwalk unless they were skateboarding or taking a shortcut to the community center.
“I’m going to miss being here,” Izzie admitted. “If we’re not surfing, I really have no excuse to come around as much as I do.” Her aunt and Bill didn’t even know she was in Harborside at the moment. She was supposed to be home studying.
“That’s not true,” Brayden disagreed. “You’ve still got to single-handedly save the community center and mentor the younger kids on your old swim team, and you can’t do either of those things from a remote location. You tell the Monroes I said that if they give you a hard time.” He winked.
Sometimes Izzie still couldn’t believe one of the most popular guys at Emerald Prep was into her. She wanted to be with him, but things were complicated, and that complication had a name: Savannah, Brayden’s utterly awful former girlfriend.
“Here comes one more reason you can’t ditch Harborside this winter,” Brayden added, gesturing to the girl walking toward them. “This pain in the neck right here.”
Izzie’s best friend, Kylie, grinned mischievously. “Hello, lovebirds.”
No matter how many times Izzie begged Kylie not to tease her about Brayden, she wouldn’t listen. Kylie followed her own rules, which was pretty much how most of her friends in Harborside were.
Kylie wiped her hands on her ice-cream-covered apron. “What are you two talking about? How much you love me?”
“Yes,” Brayden said solemnly. “That’s all I talk about all day long. Kylie, Kylie, Kylie.” Izzie tried not to laugh.
Kylie gave a satisfied smile. “That’s what I like to hear, surfer boy. So, what are you two having today? I won’t even make you go up to the counter to order.” Her smile turned to a scowl. “And don’t say nothing, because you owe me for letting you change here. Andy would have my head if he knew I let you in the back even if it is the last week of the season.” She pushed her long blond hair away from her paling face. None of them had summer tans anymore. It was sort of depressing.
“Relax,” Izzie told Kylie. “We’re starved.”
“Good,” Kylie said. “I don’t want you to turn into one of those toothpick prisses from Emerald Cove who come in here and order a cup of sprinkles, hold the ice cream.”
“Not in a million years,” Izzie promised. “In fact, today I was thinking of a three-scooper with mint chocolate chip, caramel, and Reese’s Pieces.” She gave her a look. “Non-toothpick-priss enough?” Kylie nodded.
“Make that two,” Brayden told Kylie. “But make mine five scoops.”
“I knew I liked you, Prep School,” Kylie said. She went back to the ice-cream counter and turned up the rock radio station full blast. No customers meant she could pretty much run the shop however she liked. That was the freedom that came with being a kid in Harborside. Most times, you were pretty much on your own. For some reason, Izzie thought of her own family. Or what was left of it.
“What’s wrong? Mad I outscooped you?” Brayden teased. When Izzie didn’t answer him, he tried again. “Are you thinking about Grams again?”
“I really miss her,” Izzie admitted. “I know she’s better off at the nursing home, and I’m better off in EC.” She hesitated. “Living with the Monroes makes sense. He is my…” She stopped and looked down at her lap. “Sorry, I still can’t say the D word.”
“Yeah, I wouldn’t be able to say that yet, either.” Brayden tapped his fingers lightly on the table. If he moved them slightly to the left, his hands would be on hers. “He screwed up big-time. He seems to feel bad about it, though.” He raised his eyebrows. “At least when he’s talking to Waa-Waa Wendy.”
“I think he does feel bad,” Izzie admitted, then sighed. “But it doesn’t make it okay. I don’t know.” She drummed her fingers, too. “It’s like when I walk by the potpourri Aunt Maureen has in bowls all over the house. One minute I like the scent, the next I get a whiff of something in there and I feel sick.” She shrugged, trying not to move her arms so their fingers would still be grazing. “I can’t get over being lied to.”
“Order up!” Kylie slid their sundaes across the table, and Brayden caught them.
He didn’t waste any time before scooping up a chunk of ice cream drizzled in caramel sauce. “No matter how bad things are right now, you can still tell that the Monroes care about you.” His face clouded over. “You’re lucky. Your family is not just about appearances.”
“I’m sure your family is the same way,” Izzie said, because it sounded like the right thing to say. She had a feeling the Townsends weren’t as warm and fuzzy as the Monroes. From the way Brayden talked about his mom’s society commitments and his dad having a Bluetooth glued to his ear twenty-four-seven, she didn’t get a parental vibe.
“My family is… calculated,” Brayden said carefully. “Sometimes I feel like I have a part to play, and if I screw up…” He jammed his spoon into his sundae and pushed it away as if the very mention of his family was enough to ruin his appetite. “But I don’t want to talk about them.” He looked at her. “I want to talk about us, Iz.”
At the word us, Izzie’s spoon stopped midway to her mouth, and a drop of mint chocolate chip plopped onto her shirt. She quickly wiped it away with a napkin. Why did everything in life have to be so messy? She put down her spoon and placed her hands nervously on the table so she could focus on what he was saying. Brayden placed his hands right on top of hers, and she felt a tingle go right through her.
“There never seems to be a good time to talk at school, and you’ve had so much going on, but I want you to know I can’t stop thinking about you.”
“Really?” Izzie smiled. Brayden did want to be with her. She felt so full—even with half a sundae still in front of her—that she wanted to burst. But as soon as Brayden took her hands in his, Savannah’s face flashed in her mind. What if Savannah walked in right now? What if anyone from EP walked in right now? “But…”
“No buts,” Brayden insisted, reading her mind again. “Savannah and I are over. I want to be with you, and I don’t care if it’s weird for anyone else or whose parents know,” he added strangely. “I want us to be together.”
The words hung in the air as they looked at each other and grinned. Then Brayden’s phone rang, and he frowned. “It’s my mom. I didn’t tell her where I was going.”
“Go ahead,” Izzie said, and squeezed his hands.
He winked at her. “Don’t go anywhere, okay?” He looked over at Kylie. “Hey, can I take this in the back?”
Kylie nodded. As soon as Brayden was out of view, she scooted over to the table. “Did I just see you two holding hands? Does this mean you’re finally going to date him for real?” She stopped jabbering only when the little bell on the door signaled a customer. When Kylie saw who it was, she lost her focus.
“What are you doing here?” Kylie asked, rushing toward a tall, pretty girl Izzie vaguely recognized. She knew she had met her once or twice when she had come to visit Kylie, but it had been right after she moved to EC and, needless to say, she had been a little distracted. She couldn’t even remember the girl’s name. All she could remember was liking the girl’s kicks. She wore the same black Chuck Taylors as Izzie’s, but this girl had covered all the white spaces on hers with ballpoint-pen doodles and quotes.
“I came to see you, obviously!” said the girl, hugging Kylie. “Your brother said you were on, and I’m craving the Marshmallow Devil’
s Food Cake Delight. The model wannabees at my school do not eat.” She pulled her blond hair away from her face, and Kylie squealed again. Izzie saw a small tattoo right where her hairline ended at her neck. It was a red-and-black star surrounded by waves.
“I can’t believe you got it! I’m so jealous,” Kylie said, sounding bummed. “My mom won’t let me get a third tattoo until I’m sixteen.”
“That’s the nautical star, isn’t it?” Izzie asked.
“Yeah,” said the girl, sounding impressed. She stared at Izzie with blue-green eyes that seemed very familiar. “How’d you know that?”
Izzie shrugged. “I’ve always liked that symbol.” If she ever got a tattoo, the nautical star was the one she would want. It stood for the ocean, something she loved, but it also meant something bigger—finding your way in life, which was something she was constantly trying to do. Izzie stared at the tattoo wistfully. It looked so cool. She quickly made herself play the game she usually did when she got an itch for a tattoo: She asked herself how the tattoo would look when she was eighty. It did the trick.
“It also stands for good luck,” said the girl, holding her long hair back so both girls could look. “And if you met my family, you’d know I need all the luck I can get.”
“Dylan?” Brayden had walked back in without anyone noticing.
When the girl saw Brayden, she ran over and hugged him.
Kylie and Izzie stared at each other in confusion.
“What are you doing here?” she asked. “Don’t tell me. I told you you would like Harborside if you gave it a shot. It’s nice to get out of EC and take a breather, isn’t it? That place is such a lion’s den.”
Lion’s den. That’s exactly what I’ve called EC, Izzie thought.
“How do you two know each other?” Kylie asked.
“She’s my sister,” Brayden said, staring at Dylan as if he were seeing a ghost.
His sister. That was a relief. Izzie had assumed Dylan was an extremely stunning ex-girlfriend. With her height, almost olive skin, and long blond hair, she easily could have been EP’s homecoming queen, or Miss North Carolina, but Izzie didn’t have to look hard to see that she fought hard against that stereotype. Her outfit (black shirt, jacket, and skinny jeans), her graffitied sneakers, and everything from her nautical star tattoo to the way she described EC told Izzie that Dylan Townsend bucked the Emerald Cove class system. Izzie already liked her.
“How do you two know each other?” Brayden asked Kylie and Dylan.
“Dylan hung out with my brother and his friends all summer,” Kylie explained. “Which meant she basically watched him sleep for a while and then we would go hang.” They both laughed, and Izzie felt a little left out. It was all coming back to her now. Kylie had mentioned hanging out with Dylan several times, but with taking care of Grams all summer and then having a new school and an army of mean girls to contend with, she hadn’t paid much attention. What else had she missed?
Dylan turned back to Brayden. “So, rebel, what finally brings you to Harborside?” He didn’t answer her, and she grabbed a lock of his hair. “Wait, why are you wet? Don’t tell me you are surfing. Oh my God, they’re going to kill you!” She laughed, and he colored slightly. “No wonder you come down here where no one knows you. Wait”—she turned to Izzie—“are you a Harborside townie, too?”
“She was,” Kylie said. “This is my best friend, Izzie. I told you about her. She’s the one who fell into the champagne-and-caviar lifestyle. She’s the senator’s daughter.”
Dylan slapped her own face, and Izzie noticed the evil eye pendant ring. She was wearing the same one. She and Mira had bought them together a few weeks ago. “You’re Isabelle Scott! How did I not know that? I read about you in People.”
Izzie unconsciously started tapping her foot. Here it comes, she thought. The classic Emerald-Cove-princess-bashes-the-Harborside-townie exchange. “That’s me. Live in the flesh.” Let me hear it.
Instead, Dylan pulled her into a hug. “Get over here. I want to thank the girl who saved my brother from that she-wolf, Savannah Ingram. It’s about time somebody did!”
Izzie was so taken aback, she didn’t know what to say.
“I cannot stand her or her social-climbing minions,” Dylan said, releasing Izzie and taking a seat at their booth. “Is this yours?” She asked Brayden, pointing to the half-eaten sundae and then digging in before he could stop her. “I hated growing up in EC,” she said between bites. “Every girl I went to school with thought a black Amex equaled power. They do all these fund-raisers and charity events, but do you think any of them even stop for two seconds to think about who they’re raising money for? No, they just care about writing an oversize check and getting their pictures in the town paper.”
Izzie was flabbergasted. She had said basically the same thing to Kylie on more than one occasion. She felt disgusted every time she sat in on a Social Butterflies meeting at school and heard the other girls talk about charities as if they existed just to look good on their college applications. Izzie may have joined the club reluctantly, but she actually believed in its mission. She was constantly thinking of new ways they could raise money. She just hadn’t raised her hand and brought any of them up yet.
“I can’t wait till those girls leave EC and see how little people care about their summer homes and two-thousand-dollar bags in the real world,” Izzie chimed in, then blushed. She was talking about Brayden’s hometown, and he was standing right there. Maybe that was taking things a bit too far.
“Finally, someone who speaks my language,” said Dylan appreciatively. “Glad to see EC hasn’t suffocated you yet.” She pushed her hair behind her ear. Izzie noticed that Dylan had several earrings, and instinctively reached for her own multipierced ear. “Being shipped off to boarding school my final year of high school turned out to be a good thing. I couldn’t wait to get out of town, but some of those girls will never leave EC. They’re lifers. Like my mother.” She stared at Izzie curiously and smiled. “I like you.”
“Iz, you’ve got to come back to Harborside more and hang with us,” Kylie insisted. “Dylan is a riot. She’s the one who streaked on the boardwalk on a dare so we didn’t have to pay for dinner at the diner. I told you about that, right?”
“Sounds like my sister,” Brayden said, but it didn’t sound like a compliment.
The story was hazy, but there was no denying the cool factor attached to a girl who could pull off something like that. Dylan Townsend seemed to be as unaffected by her EC upbringing as a girl could get. Izzie was about to say something to Brayden about how cool his sister was when she noticed that he was squirming.
“So what are you back to pull off this time, Dylan?” Brayden asked quietly.
“Nothing really. Just here to give Mom and Dad a slight heart attack.” Dylan stretched her legs out in front of her. “I just came from the house. God, B, I wish you could have seen their faces when I told them I dropped out of college.”
“You dropped out of Vanderbilt?” Brayden’s jaw dropped. “You’ve only been there for two months!” ’
“I don’t know what I was thinking going there,” she said to Izzie and Kylie. “It’s so stuffy, and the girls are all buttoned-up, headband-loving beauty queens in training.”
“Who would want to deal with that every day?” Kylie agreed.
Dylan rubbed her temples just thinking about the travesty. “I’m transferring to the University of South Carolina next semester. I was originally wait-listed, but a spot opened up, so I’m in come January. My friend Lila goes there, and that place is a lot more fun.” She squeezed Brayden tightly. “Till then, I’m all yours.”
“For two months?” Brayden reminded her. “You’ll never survive.”
“Of course I will. I’ve been craving home,” Dylan told him. “I haven’t been home for more than a weekend since boarding school.”
Brayden didn’t look convinced. “What are you not telling me?”
Dylan glanced at Izzie. “Is h
e always this paranoid? I swear, sometime in the last two years, we switched roles. When did you become the older sibling?”
“When you left me to fend for myself with Mom and Dad,” Brayden said pointedly, and Dylan stopped laughing. Izzie could sense some tension, but she pretended to stare at her nails. It was a Mira technique that always seemed to work.
“I should probably get going,” Dylan said, and for some reason, that disappointed Izzie. She liked this girl, and the truth was, she hadn’t liked a lot of people from Emerald Cove she’d met so far. She watched as Dylan threw a twenty down on the table. “This should cover their sundaes.”
“Nice tip,” Kylie said appraisingly. “Will I see you this weekend?”
“Absolutely,” Dylan told her, and looked at Izzie. “You should join us, Izzie. We can hang out and compare EC notes.”
Brayden’s face was strained, but Izzie was too busy staring at Dylan to notice. Trading EC war stories with Dylan sounded like a better way to spend an afternoon than shopping for yet another dress with Aunt Maureen. “I’m in.”
“Great.” Dylan slung her bag over her shoulder. “Want to hang tomorrow, too?”
“I have school,” Izzie said.
“So?” Dylan winked and headed for the door. “As far as I know, missing fourth period never killed anybody.”
Five
100% CASHMERE. Mira stared at the sweater tag in her hand and smiled. Just the words 100% cashmere were enough to put her in a good mood.
The pale pink sweater with a ballet-scoop neckline was so soft that she could have slept on it. Prepsters, Emerald Cove’s popular high-end clothing boutique (so named for girls like her who went to Emerald Prep and could afford three-hundred-dollar riding boots) must have just gotten a shipment because the cashmere sweater was available in every size and color. The only decision Mira had to make now was pink or taupe. She was going to try on both along with a pair of those new jeans she saw on the table at the front of the store. While she was here, she might as well look for some casual dresses, too, to wear to a few of her dad’s fund-raisers she was dreading. There was so much to choose from at Prepsters, she wished she could stay all day.