by Jen Calonita
“And yet, even if this place bums you out sometimes, I bet you’d rather be living here than Emerald Cove any day,” Callista said bluntly, then blushed. But that could have been because it was hot in the room. She took off the cardigan she had on over her tank top. “Sorry. I shouldn’t get so personal.”
“No, it’s okay,” Izzie told her. “This is the only life I knew and I loved it. Emerald Cove has given me a lot of opportunities, but if my mom were still alive, then yeah, warts and all, I’d rather be here.”
“I wish you were still here, too,” Kylie said quietly. “But I’m happy you’ve got a family now.” Izzie leaned in to Kylie affectionately while keeping her eyes on the next heat.
Izzie couldn’t help noticing how different this pool was compared to the state-of-the-art one at Emerald Prep. The tiles surrounding the pool here had to be from the seventies, giving the place a dated vibe. There were cracks in the ceiling, the roof tiles leaked, and the single-pane windows had seen much better days. They had a permanent film over them that made the sky outside always seem cloudy. There was only one pool, and it had two lap lanes that had to be put up or taken down depending on the class going on at the same time. Izzie’s high school pool had six lap lanes, a separate stroke pool, and even a sauna. There was so much Izzie wished she could give back to Harborside and the community center the way it had given so much to her.
“I can understand wanting to be in two places at once,” Callista told her. “I was a military brat. We moved every two years from the time I was two till I was sixteen. Just when I started liking a place, we moved again.” She wiped her glasses, which kept fogging up. “You want what you can’t have, I guess.”
Izzie knew she felt that way sometimes.
Kylie pointed to the pool. “You’ve been spotted, Ms. Celebrity Coach.” Mimi must have noticed Izzie because the whole group was jumping up and down and waving instead of paying attention to the meet. Coach Bing blew his whistle to bring them back in line.
“I can tell this place does a world of good.” Callista leaned her elbows on her knees and watched the team. “I will keep on Bill about doing shout-outs for the center where he can, okay?”
Izzie was grateful for all Callista had done. “I appreciate you listening to me go on and on about my old life. Kylie has to hear about it all the time, but you didn’t sign on for this when you agreed to spend your morning off with me.”
Callista put an arm around her and looked across the pool. “Any time, my friend.” Suddenly Izzie felt her stiffen. “What is your dad—sorry, Bill—doing here?”
Izzie’s eyes followed Callista’s. Bill had walked into the pool area with the director of the community center. Both Bill and the director looked serious.
“Did you tell him about the meet?” Callista asked. Izzie shook her head.
“Whoa, is he fighting with the director?” Kylie asked. “Not cool.”
They seemed to be in the middle of a heated conversation. Usually in public, Bill was always “on.” He never missed a handshake. Here, several people noticed him, but he was too busy to say hi or even smile. What was he up to, and why hadn’t he told her he was going to be there? Izzie’s foot started to tap the bleachers madly. Her mind was spinning. Maybe Bill was backing Mr. Ingram’s bill again. He wouldn’t. Would he?
“What is he doing here?” Callista wondered aloud. “He didn’t have a stop here on his schedule unless…” She stopped herself and side-eyed Izzie worriedly. “Don’t stress. I’m sure whatever his reason is, it’s a good one.”
“I’m sure it is,” Izzie seconded. But looking at the steely expression on Bill’s face, she wasn’t sure she believed that.
After she congratulated Mimi and the team, said hi to some friends at the center, and assured Callista she was fine getting back to EC on her own by bus, Izzie headed onto the boardwalk with Kylie to breathe in the cool, salty sea air. Kylie had suggested they head to Harborside Pizza to get some lunch, and they walked part of the way in silence, just taking in the beauty of the desolate beach. Izzie was thankful for the quiet. She couldn’t stop thinking about Bill and why he had been at the community center that morning. Why had he looked so angry? And why hadn’t he told anyone—not even Callista—that he was going? Everything about his visit gave her a bad vibe.
“I’m not sure I can stomach pizza today,” Izzie said as they turned off the boardwalk and neared Harborside Pizza. A gust of wind, always stronger by the water, blew her slightly sideways, and she buttoned up her navy peacoat to keep warm. The weather was so different from just a few days ago.
Kylie held her stomach. “I can’t say the idea of melted cheese and the pool chlorine still burning my nostrils is a good mix, either. We can eat somewhere else if you want, but we’ve got to go to Harborside Pizza first. We’re meeting someone.”
“Who?” Izzie wasn’t so sure she wanted company. If Kylie had invited Molly and Pete, the afternoon was definitely going to be weird. Things hadn’t been the same among all of them since Izzie moved.
Kylie’s dark eyes looked devious with the addition of the black liner she was into these days, but her face was one huge grin. “Take a look for yourself.” She motioned to someone walking down the block.
“Hey, girls.” Dylan smiled as she strutted toward them, looking like she belonged on a catwalk. A catwalk for Harley-Davidson clothing, that is. Her upper body was buried in a weathered leather bomber jacket that she had paired with skinny jeans and worn knee-high brown boots. Her honey-colored hair sprayed around the wool collar of her jacket like she was in a windstorm, which they kind of were. Certain blocks bordering the boardwalk were wind tunnels.
“Dylan hung out with my brother last night, and when I told her you and I were hanging out today, she asked to come along,” Kylie explained. “Do you mind?”
“Not at all.” Izzie had been hoping to run into Dylan ever since they met at Scoops, but she hadn’t seen her around EC, and Brayden never talked about her. Izzie had a feeling Dylan Townsend knew all of EC’s secrets, and she couldn’t help wondering what some of them were.
The smell of pizza dough wafted out of Harborside Pizza, and Dylan wrinkled her nose. “If I eat another slice, I’m going to turn into a pizza. Can we go someplace else?”
“We were thinking the same thing,” Kylie said. “What do you have in mind?”
“How about that place we went to with Charlie right before I left for school?”
“Yes!” Kylie said, and looked at Izzie. “I actually hadn’t even heard of it till Dylan took me, but you’re going to love it.”
“Love where?” Izzie slipped her hands into her pockets to keep warm. She looked at Dylan. “Are you telling me you know someplace I don’t when I’m the one who has lived in Harborside for the past fifteen years?”
“Lived—past tense,” Dylan corrected her. “And that doesn’t mean you know all the cool haunts.” Dylan linked arms with Izzie and steered her and Kylie down the street. “So where have you been hiding?” Dylan asked.
“Um, school?” Izzie said as if it should be obvious.
Dylan laughed. “Oh, right, the hallowed halls of Emerald Prep,” she mocked sarcastically. “I’m glad I don’t have to worry about school till January. I can just chill down here with Kylie and the gang.” She pushed a slouchy black leather bag with braided rope straps higher on her shoulder. Izzie had always wanted one just like it.
“So that would explain why I haven’t seen you around EC,” Izzie said.
“If I stand still for more than ten minutes, my mom signs me up for things like the Emerald Cove Greeters’ movie mixer.” Dylan shook her head. “No, thanks.”
“A movie mixer?” Kylie repeated the words as if they were in a foreign language. “What the heck is that?”
“Be happy you’ve never had to go to one,” Izzie told her. “Aunt Maureen dragged me to one my first week there. Before the movie, you hang out in the lobby and have crab dip and lobster rolls.”
Dylan grinned.
“Welcome to EC.”
She led the girls onto the main drag for a few blocks like a true townie. Then she turned onto a narrow side street that Izzie didn’t recognize before pulling them into a restaurant called Pit Stop. Izzie had never heard of it, and she was pretty sure why. The place had old tables, plastic backyard chairs, and red-and-white gingham tablecloths, but it was packed with college kids. No one even seemed to care that there was a huge line for a table. Leave it to an outsider-turned-insider like Dylan to find this place.
“Isn’t this great?” Kylie yelled in Izzie’s ear over the hard rock music blasting. “Dylan knows the owner.”
A cute guy in a messy apron walked up to them at the back of the line. Izzie read the writing on his apron: Our place is a Pit, but you won’t be able to Stop coming once you try it. “Hey, beautiful,” he said to Dylan. “Bring some new friends with you?”
“Kylie knows the deliciousness that is this greasy dive, but Izzie is a Pit Stop virgin,” Dylan said. “Tragic. A former local who has never had your chili lime burger.”
His brown eyes opened wide. “We’ve got to fix that. Girls, ditch this line and follow me.” He led them through the crowd to a bar area that was, in fact, not a bar. It overlooked the tiny kitchen, which had smoke billowing out from the open flame grill. “Three chili lime burgers with garlic fries coming up.”
“You rock, John Boy,” Dylan said, getting herself situated on the high swivel stool. She looked at Izzie. “Cool, right? Do I deliver, or do I deliver?”
“It smells amazing,” Izzie said, looking around as she parked herself on a high stool next to Kylie, who was practically salivating, and not over the food. The place was filled with cute guys just Kylie’s type. “How did you find this place?”
“It’s right across the street from where I got one of my tattoos.” Dylan flipped over her wrist to reveal tiny Chinese symbols. “Do you have a tat?”
Kylie laughed. “Iz has a fear of needles.”
“No, I don’t,” Izzie said. She’d given Grams’s insulin shots daily when they lived together. She just couldn’t imagine getting a tattoo herself. “I haven’t found one I like enough to live with permanently.”
It was a good thing Izzie had quick reflexes, because a guy behind the counter shot three plates toward them, and Izzie caught hers before it slid off the counter. The burger on the plate was massive, as was the mound of fries.
“I think your next cotillion dare involves permanent ink.” Dylan watched Izzie’s reaction. “Kidding!”
Izzie exhaled. “How did you know I was doing cotillion, anyway?” Izzie asked. She took a huge bite, and the juice oozed out of the side of the burger onto her hands.
Dylan gave her a look similar to one Mira might. “I know everything that goes on in that town, including initiations.”
“You know about the initiation, too?” Izzie dropped a fry.
Dylan grabbed it and dipped it in ketchup. “Of course. I’m surprised you let yourself get roped into that charade.”
“I know you want to fit in,” Kylie agreed between bites, “but I cannot see you at some old-school ball where the girls have to wear wedding gowns. That does not sound like you at all.”
“It’s not, but it means a lot to my aunt,” Izzie explained, feeling like she had to defend herself. “She was a deb, her mom was a deb, and Mira didn’t want to do it alone. It is killing me, though. Cotillion is so not my thing.” She looked at Dylan curiously. “You must’ve had to make your debut. How did you survive?”
Dylan laughed. “I fought my mother tooth and nail for years—till I found out about the hazing. That part is awesome because everybody—from the self-professed queen bee to the lowest on the totem pole—has to participate if they want to keep their reputation intact. Initiation is a common denominator.”
That was Izzie’s favorite part about cotillion, too, actually. Izzie was glad someone else saw it her way.
“Besides”—Dylan raised her perfectly arched right eyebrow—“when you get to dress up like Lady Gaga and interrupt the precious Cardinals’ football game, how can you not have a little fun?”
Wow, she really did know everything about EC. “How did you know about that?”
“Gaga?” Kylie repeated. She nudged Izzie. “You’ve been holding out on me.”
Dylan grabbed her phone and quickly pulled up a photo from that afternoon. Kylie laughed so hard, Diet Coke came out of her nose. Izzie quickly filled her friend in on the dare.
“Brilliant, no?” Dylan asked Kylie. “And who do you think came up with the Gaga worshipfulness?” She leaned back in her seat and put her hands behind her head. Izzie gaped. “Yep, I’m not just home to torture my mother. I’m part of the initiation group. Who else could come up with something as diabolical as a Gaga sing-along?”
Izzie was in awe. “Thanks for not painting my face red.”
Dylan’s blue eyes gleamed. “You’re welcome. I had to save the devil face paint for my favorite Southern belle. Or should I say, my mother’s favorite. That girl deserved a little payback for the way I’ve heard she’s treated you.”
Izzie couldn’t help being impressed. Dylan was coolness personified. She took risks, she didn’t seem to let anyone or anything get to her, and she had everyone’s number. The fact that she had grown up in Emerald Cove and hadn’t let it swallow her whole made her even more appealing.
“Initiation is the whole reason to do cotillion,” Dylan told her. “My mom and her friends can’t stop it, because they only vaguely know what’s going on. Besides, none of them wants to be the one to admit their daughter is taking part in it. Initiation lets you take a nice jab at EC and its whole backward system.” She took another bite. “That’s why I’m helping out. Besides, if you do a good-enough job, you might make cotillion captain in a few years, and that is the gravy on the biscuit. So I hear.”
“Can I apply for cotillion captain so I can kick Savannah’s butt?” Kylie asked.
Dylan grinned mischievously. “Sorry, Ky. Only EC debs may apply for that gig.” She patted Kylie’s hand. “Don’t worry about Savannah. I’ll see to it that she’s covered.”
Dylan gets it, Izzie realized. She thinks the same way I do. And when she looked at cotillion the way Dylan did, making her debut didn’t sound so bad. In fact, it might actually be fun. The hazing seemed like just the right amount of approved rebellion she needed to survive a town like Emerald Cove.
“So? Think you’ll stick with it?” Dylan asked.
The garlic and the salt from the fries left a bittersweet taste in Izzie’s mouth. “Yeah.” She chewed slowly. “I think I will.”
Dylan smiled and took another bite of her burger. “Just what I was hoping you’d say.” Her cell phone interrupted them, and Dylan’s cheerful demeanor quickly dampened. She answered her phone. “What do you want, Mother?” she said coldly. “I don’t have to check in every hour. I’m eighteen.” Dylan rolled her eyes at Izzie and Kylie. “I’ll be home when I’m home.” Pause. “What does it matter who I’m with?” Her dark mood lightened. “My friend Kylie. No, you don’t know her. She lives in Harborside. Yes, that Harborside. You know, that dangerous town on the water where gangs roam?” Dylan high-fived Kylie. Then she caught Izzie’s eye. “I’m with Brayden’s new girlfriend, Izzie Scott, too.”
Izzie didn’t think her face could get any hotter, but it did.
“Yep, the other Monroe girl. Girlfriend. That’s what I said.” She winked at Izzie. “I don’t know, Mother. Maybe he doesn’t want you to know. I wouldn’t.” Izzie started to sweat. She thought she could actually hear Brayden’s reserved mother yelling. “Bye,” Dylan said sweetly, and hung up. “That woman,” she said to Izzie and Kylie as she tossed her phone in her oversize bag, “should not have been allowed to have children.”
“You and your mom really don’t get along, do you?” Izzie asked quietly.
“Not. At. All. Do you get along with your dad?” Dylan was blunt. “I hear he’s a pretty decent guy—when h
e’s not denying long-lost children.”
Izzie was a little surprised at Dylan’s candor, but she didn’t let on. “We’re not talking right now, but eventually I’ll have to forgive him, I guess.”
“Are you sure you want to after what you saw this morning?” Kylie was referring to Bill’s mysterious appearance at the center. Izzie didn’t answer her.
“Well, I don’t know what happened earlier, but I, for one, don’t forgive and forget easily,” Dylan told them. “My mother lied to me one too many times, and I’ve completely written her off.” Dylan was pensive. “Do yourself a favor—stay as far away from my house and my parents as you can. They will sprinkle you with Splenda and eat you for breakfast.”
Izzie’s stomach churned, like it wanted to get rid of the half a pound of burger she’d just eaten. “I don’t think that will be a problem. Brayden and I aren’t going out.”
“Please!” Kylie rolled her eyes. “Surfer boy is so into you!” Izzie blushed.
“Kylie’s right. My brother likes you.” Dylan pushed the fries around her plate like she had lost her appetite. “It’s totally obvious even if he won’t tell me himself.”
“Why don’t you guys get along?” Izzie wondered. Dylan seemed like a fun sister to have.
“I adore my brother, but we don’t see eye to eye on EC,” Dylan said cryptically.
“Really? Brayden hates how superficial it is,” Izzie said. “He says it all the time.”
“He avoided EC like the plague this summer,” Kylie added.
Dylan shook her head. “You guys don’t get it. My brother says he wants to be different from our parents. Not so hung up on appearances or concerned about privilege. But if that’s true, then why does he go along with everything they say?” Her blue-green eyes darkened. “He’s still playing football, going to their ridiculous charity events. If he hates their world so much, why doesn’t he accept me for being my own person?” She took a sip of Coke. “Brayden’s rebellion is a phase. Mine is a way of life.”