by Jen Calonita
“Fun,” Izzie repeated, sounding like it was anything but.
“You’re going to love it,” Nicole seconded. “I have been dying to do cotillion initiation ever since I signed up to be a deb. I love a good dare.”
“You see?” Mira tried to sound confident since the girls in charge of the initiation could hear her every word. “This is tradition, like the dance itself.”
“You and your stupid traditions! I didn’t sign up for any initiations,” Izzie grumbled. “I didn’t sign up for any of this! I’m supposed to be at the game right now watching Brayden, and now God knows where we’re going! Thanks.”
“Mira Monroe, please explain the initiation to Isabelle Scott,” a charge barked.
“Izzie,” she heard her new sister correct the girl.
Mira thought carefully about what she wanted to say next, since she had an audience. “Cotillion is like a sorority, and when you pledge for a sorority, you have to prove your worth during rush week. This is the cotillion version.”
“I have to be tested before I can wear a white gown? I’m out.” Mira heard Izzie start to struggle again.
“Izzie, you go along with this, or you’re out of cotillion,” warned the girl. “You should know no one gets hurt, no one has to do anything dangerous, and no one—I repeat, no one—talks about cotillion initiations. Got it?”
“Please?” Mira had been reduced to begging and not the pretty kind. It was the kind she used when she was young and wanted a new Barbie at Target. “You’re going to love this! You think well on your feet. Please? Mom so wants you to do cotillion. You’ll kill her if you drop out. Please, Izzie? Puh-leeze?”
Izzie groaned. “You owe me big-time, Mira.”
Mira knew that was Izzie’s way of saying yes. She was glad Izzie wasn’t able to see her smile.
It felt like they walked forever. At one point, Nicole asked where they were going, and she was told not to ask questions. When Mira heard cheering, she knew they were near the stadium. That’s when they came to a halt.
“Now that everyone is here, let me welcome this year’s recruits to their first cotillion hazing!” Mira didn’t recognize this voice, either, but she was so excited, she cheered along with the other girls who had apparently been assembled. Her heart was pumping out of her chest. She couldn’t believe it was finally her turn to be part of this society.
“I don’t have to tell you guys how this works,” the girl continued. “If you’ve lived in Emerald Cove long enough, you know. Cotillion initiation is a tradition as important as cotillion itself. If you pass our tests, you make your debut in some overpriced gown while your dad tears up and escorts you down your first aisle. If you screw up—or talk about our hazing to anyone—don’t even think of showing your face at the Emerald Cove Castle on the Cliffs December thirteenth. Got it? We will be everywhere these next few weeks, watching you, giving you assignments. Sometimes you won’t even know we’re there. Think of me as a guardian angel with a mischievous streak. Do as I say, know the cotillion code, and I’ll put in a good word with the powers that be. I might even upgrade your status to potential cotillion captain. Cotillion captains are picked by former debs, so you’ve got a shot at my job if you do yours well enough. Finally, none of you will know who I am till I see fit. In the meantime, listen and you’ll learn a lot.”
“Excuse me?” Savannah’s drawl was undeniable. “I was told Mary Beth Pearson was captain this year, but you don’t sound like Mary Beth.”
The girl laughed. “Mary Beth Pearson? She wishes. Don’t speak unless spoken to, Savannah Ingram. You already have two marks against you.”
“Me?” Savannah stammered. “What did I do?”
“You’re you. Be warned, princess. I’m watching you personally.”
Mira tried not to grin. She suspected Izzie might be smiling for the first time since she was handcuffed.
“Recruits, your first assignment starts now. If you haven’t already guessed, we’re near the Emerald Prep football stadium. The Cardinals are down seven-to-three, and this crowd could use some cheering up. You’re going to do that by singing for them.”
That was all they had to do? That didn’t sound so bad.
“Now for the fun part—you’re not a halftime show. You’re going to stand up in the bleachers during the game, block their view of Taylor Covington making a pass and Ryan Hodgkins scoring a touchdown, and you’re going to sing your little hearts out. You’re going to sing a Lady Gaga song, even if they throw things at you.”
Mira heard nervous laughter. Singing as a group wasn’t so bad, was it? She felt her cheek poked and she jumped.
“Ladies, you’ll notice someone is touching your face.” Someone screamed. “If you’re going to sing Lady Gaga, you should look like Lady Gaga, don’t you think?”
Someone squeezed cold gel onto Mira’s hair and started pulling it. Oh God!
“Your hair and makeup needs to be Lady Gaga–worthy, which is what we’re making it. Next, we’ll bring you to the stadium, remove your blindfolds, and send you inside. We’ll be watching you, and you’re being judged, so don’t even think of trying to sneak out without doing this task.” Mira felt sick, but maybe that was the cloud of hair spray covering her. “When you’re done, you can go. You’ll get your next assignment soon enough.”
After much poking and hair pulling, they were marched over to the stadium. They were instructed to sing their cotillion theme song the entire way as a warm-up. After being warned not to open their eyes till they counted to fifty, their blindfolds were removed.
“Forty-eight,” the girls counted in unison. “Forty-nine… fifty!”
Mira opened her eyes and looked around. Everyone was laughing. Or more like screaming. Girls had their hair teased up as high as it could go. Some had crazy ponytails sticking out of weird parts of their head. Others had white makeup. A few had Gaga-like sunglasses. There were fifteen girls total. Everyone Mira had suspected would be there—Lea, Lauren, Savannah, Nicole, and Izzie—plus a few other girls she didn’t know very well. When Mira and Izzie spotted each other, they started to crack up.
“Do I look atrocious?” Izzie asked.
“Actually your makeup is kind of nice.” And mild for Gaga. Izzie’s face had been completely covered in glitter, and her short hair had been slicked back.
“How is mine?” Mira asked anxiously.
Izzie grimaced. “I would have made you look much worse.”
“So I don’t look bad?” Izzie wouldn’t answer her. “What is on my face?”
Nicole walked over. Her blond hair had been teased into a bird’s nest, and someone had put on her a bright blue hat that had an old telephone glued to the top. Her makeup was almost fluorescent.
“Where is Violet?” Izzie asked, her glitter almost blinding in the afternoon light.
“She isn’t doing cotillion,” Nicole said. “Her mom thinks it’s archaic. I texted her. She said she’s going into the stadium to take pictures of us.” She glanced at Mira. “Cool hair.”
Mira touched her head. “I wish I could see. Izzie won’t tell me anything.”
“You don’t deserve to know,” Izzie told her, but Nicole pulled out a mirror and showed Mira her face.
“Oh. My. God.” Mira inhaled sharply. She did not even look like herself. She had green hair! Green hair! A long purple streak went down one side and her cheeks were painted bright purple. Her eyebrows were a pasty white.
“Do you think this stuff washes out?” Mira asked, trying to mask the panic in her voice. Nicole gave her a look that didn’t seem too optimistic.
“Now that is funny,” Izzie said, and pointed to Savannah.
Savannah’s normally angelic face had been transformed into a fiery devil. She was wearing a red wig with devil horns, and her whole face was painted red except for heavy black eye makeup. Mira didn’t recognize it as a Gaga look, but maybe it wasn’t one. Maybe it was just supposed to represent how evil Savannah was. Either way, Savannah was practically in tears
, and Lea, who looked like Gaga’s alter ego, Jo Calderone, tried to calm her down. Izzie took a picture with her phone before Savannah could stop her.
Savannah stomped over. She looked more terrifying than usual with her red face and devil horns. “Delete that!” she hissed. “Right now!”
Izzie slipped the phone back in her pocket and jutted out her chin. “Make me.”
Savannah was smart enough not to try that. “They made me over this way on purpose, you know. Only potential cotillion captains get put through the paces, and I am definitely going to be cotillion captain one day.” Her eyes became slits, which was pretty creepy with that makeup. “And then I’m going to make everyone else’s life hell.”
Izzie rolled her eyes. “I kind of suspect the reason you look like the devil is because our cotillion captain, whoever she is, knows you are the devil.”
A simultaneous symphony of pings kept Savannah from responding. Everyone reached for their phones. It seemed all the girls had received the same text.
Enough whining about your makeovers. Get in there already! You have seats on the left side of the bleacher section. Row B. Remember to smile! We’re watching!
With some nervous laughter, their oddly dressed group reluctantly filed into the stadium. Mira wasn’t surprised to see the place packed. Eighty percent of the crowd wore red (the Cardinals) or blue (the Holy Rollers), but their team spirit was no match for the Lady Gagas. People stopped cheering and stared at the girls as they walked by. Even some of the players on the field noticed them! They found their seats and stared at the scoreboard. The Cardinals were now up ten-to-seven, and it was third down.
“They’re going to kill us if we stand up and sing right now,” Lea said. She had a huge lightning bolt cap on her head.
“We don’t have a choice,” Lauren said, but she didn’t budge, either.
“Savannah, your mom is sitting directly across the field,” Lea pointed out.
“Don’t let her see me,” Savannah hissed, ducking behind Lea. She peeked out from behind Lea’s shoulder and frowned. “Oh, God! The football team is laughing at us! I am not doing this.” She thought for a moment. “I’ll be the first Ingram in history to not make cotillion.” She covered her face with her hands. Mira didn’t tell her that the red paint ran all over them. Others started to murmur their agreement and fears. Their cotillion class was quickly falling apart.
Izzie stood up to face the others. “You can’t handle one little dare? You guys are supposed to be the perfect belles.”
“We are belles,” Savannah snapped. “And doing this”—she motioned to her ensemble—“will ruin that.”
“No, it won’t,” Izzie told her. “If anything, this will just make you look cooler. Everyone is going to know we’re doing something mysterious if we stand up and sing together. It will all be over in five minutes, and then you can dive under the bleachers and hide until our next initiation. But if you don’t do this,” she warned, “there won’t be another one.” Lea paled. “So? Everyone with me? Let’s do this!”
Mira couldn’t believe Izzie’s take-charge attitude. Her Gaga look was sort of kick-butt. Maybe that helped, because the others seemed to listen to her. A few stood up with Izzie. Savannah, Lea, and Lauren were the final three to join them.
Izzie looked satisfied. “Okay, then. On the count of ten, we sing. One, two…”
They attempted to do Gaga proud. Mira sang the best she could, the whole time scanning the crowd for Kellen. Thankfully he wasn’t there to witness her humiliation, but Hayden was. He was sitting in the bleachers a few rows up, and he had a look of deep satisfaction on his face as he videoed the whole thing on his phone! Great. He’d show this to all her future boyfriends. Even if he didn’t, she was sure someone else would humiliate them by posting this on YouTube.
“Sit down!” a guy wearing red face paint barked.
“Shut it!” said another guy.
Someone threw a paper cup at Lea, and then a rain of wrappers started coming down on them. Savannah looked like she might burst into tears, but Mira started to laugh, and so did the girl standing next to her, who had a black lightning bolt painted over her right eye and her strawberry-red hair piled on her head in an oversize bow. She thought her name was Charlotte. They had never really talked before. Now they were both hysterical from the adrenaline of embarrassment, and Charlotte had her arm draped around Mira’s.
When the Gagas hit their last off-key note, the group flew out of the stadium as fast as their feet would carry them. Savannah, Lea, and Lauren kept running, but Mira, Izzie, and some of the others stuck around. Most were laughing as they tried to fix their hair and remove their crazy makeup. Everyone was talking a mile a minute about what they had just pulled off. Mira had to admit, it was insane, but probably the most adventurous thing she had done in a long time. Izzie, the one cotillion participant who hadn’t dreamed of making her debut since she was young, was the one who had gotten them to complete their first assignment. She wanted to thank Izzie, but the minute she saw her sister’s deadly expression, she decided that might not be the best idea.
“You’re dropping out, aren’t you?” Mira said quietly.
Izzie tried to run a hand through the gel in her hair, but it got stuck. “I was ready to quit an hour ago.”
Mira’s heart sank. It was official. She was doing cotillion alone. She couldn’t blame Izzie for wanting out. She didn’t know what she was getting into when she agreed in the first place. But when she looked at Izzie, she saw that she was smiling.
“Then I thought about missing everything they’re going to do to Savannah. They clearly don’t like her.” Mira perked up. “And watching that might make this whole stupid initiation thing worthwhile.”
Mira tried not to get excited. “Just to be clear, does this mean you’re staying?”
Izzie smirked. “I’m not going anywhere.”
It might not have been the reasoning Mira was looking for, but she’d take it.
Eight
“Go, Mimi! Go!” Izzie shouted, jumping up and down so hard that the metal bleachers shook beneath her feet. She tried to scream loud enough to be heard over the crowd in the cavernous Harborside Community Center pool, but that was pretty tough to do especially when Kylie’s cowbell was louder than all of them.
“You go, squirt!” Kylie screamed, ringing her cowbell furiously.
Izzie had no idea where she had gotten the thing, but Kylie said the bell was good luck. Kylie used to bring it to all of Izzie’s swim meets, and she figured the same luck would apply to a junior team meet. She rang the bell faster as Mimi Grayson—the guppie whom Izzie had taught to swim for a year—inched out her competitor and raced to the other end of the pool. Izzie could feel her voice give out as little Mimi hit the wall. The buzzer sounded and it became official. Mimi had won her first-ever swim race.
“Wow, who knew a race among seven-year-olds could be this exciting?” Callista put two fingers in her mouth and gave a loud whistle.
Izzie laughed. “You can’t beat this kind of excitement on a Saturday morning.”
“It beats watching two screaming toddlers while your brother snores and your sister refuses to answer your calls,” Kylie said. Izzie patted her arm. She knew Kylie got stuck on babysitting duty way more than any sister deserved. When Kylie’s mom gave her the morning off, she jumped at the chance to join Izzie for the peewee meet. Kylie looked relaxed in jeans and a striped T, her bedhead disguised under a Braves cap.
“My original plans weren’t much better.” Callista pushed her glasses up on her nose. “If I wasn’t here, I’d be at Starbucks by myself reading the New York Times.”
Izzie knew what it was like to be a full-time babysitter—she had been one for Grams the last six months she lived with her—and what it felt like to be an outsider. She felt bad for Callista. It had to be hard being from New York City and not knowing a soul in Emerald Cove. That was why, when Callista asked if she could see the community center Izzie talked so much about,
Izzie didn’t feel funny about inviting her along with Kylie.
“Are you going to go down and congratulate the squirt?” Kylie asked Izzie. They watched the curly-haired kid accept high fives from her teammates.
“You should,” Callista agreed. “Didn’t you bake the team victory cookies?” Izzie had told her all about her star pupil.
“Victory cookies?” Kylie shook her head. “You mush.”
Izzie watched the girls and boys standing by the edge of the pool, listening to their next instructions from Coach Bing. He had also been Izzie’s coach in Harborside. “I don’t want to distract them. I’ll see them when the meet is over.”
“Did you give lessons to most of the kids down there?” Callista asked.
Izzie nodded. “Most mornings before lifeguarding and sometimes after, too.”
“Did you get paid well?” Callista asked, and Kylie laughed.
“Are you kidding?” Kylie hugged Izzie, practically smothering her. “This crazy girl did it for free. It ate up a ton of her free time, let me tell you.”
Izzie shrugged. “Lessons are pricey. Even those fees are waived sometimes. My coach waived mine,” Izzie said, remembering. “When he saw how well my mom taught me to swim, he said there was no way he’d feel right about keeping me out of the pool.” Izzie kept her eyes on Mimi, who was talking a mile a minute to a girl in a bright orange swim cap. Izzie had always had a soft spot for the tiny brunette, even though she was supposed to be impartial. Maybe it was because Mimi’s story so closely mirrored her own. Mimi was being raised by her grandparents.
“Free lessons. That’s pretty generous of you,” Callista said.
“That’s Iz.” Kylie rang her bell again. “Generous to a fault.”
“Not everyone would be the same way,” Callista said. “Especially when this place had so many memories of your mom.”
“Yeah, that was hard a little bit.” Izzie looked down at the pool. “The smells, the sounds… Once in a while, when I’m here, I even forget she’s…” There was no need to finish that sentence. While Harborside Community Center held mostly good memories, sometimes it did make her sad.