The Daughters Break the Rules

by Joanna Philbin

  Carina looked down at the pile of dresses. She had to try on something. The one on top was a delicate silk ombré dress, which went from a milky white to mauve to lavender to a deep rich burgundy. Carina fingered the price tag. It was $1,400.

  “Can we see something?” the salesgirl asked again.

  “Hold on!” Carina yelled.

  She pulled off her turtleneck and her kilt and stepped into the dress. She zipped it up, barely noticing that it fit perfectly. “Looks okay!” she yelled back. She slid the curtain aside just an inch.

  The salesgirl yanked the curtain open all the way and gasped. “That kills,” she muttered, pulling Carina out of the room.

  Ava and the Icks turned around. They looked her up and down. Despite their stony expressions, she could tell that they were impressed.

  Carina looked over at the full-length mirror. The dress was stunning. She looked like some beautiful blond TV actress on her way to a premiere. But it only made her panic more.

  “You should get that,” Ava managed to say.

  “Really? I don’t think it’s me,” Carina said.

  “Are you kidding?” the salesgirl exclaimed. “It fits you like a glove. And it makes your butt look phenomenal. It comes in a halter style too, if you want to get both.”

  “That’s okay,” she said, edging her way back to the fitting room. “I don’t think it’s right for the dance…”

  “Then get it for something else,” Ava said. “You’ll always wear it.”

  “No, I don’t really like it,” Carina said.

  “And it’s soooo reasonable,” the salesgirl said. “I’m gonna bring it up to the register while you try on the others. Because you really ought to have it—”

  “No!” Carina yelled, so loudly that it surprised even her.

  The salesgirl jumped. Ava and the Icks flinched.

  “I don’t need this,” she said. “I have tons of dresses already. And do you really think that fourteen hundred bucks is reasonable?”

  Nobody said a word. Ava wrinkled her nose. Ilona’s patented deathstare reached another level of iciness. Cici and Kate covered their mouths, as if they were on the verge of cracking up.

  “That’s Chloé,” the salesgirl said, disapproval coating her voice.

  “Well, whatever it is, it’s out of my price range,” Carina said. “I can’t spend that kind of money. Not even for the party of the year.”

  She turned on her bare toes, walked back into the fitting room, and pulled the curtain closed. Her trembling hands went to the zipper and yanked it down. As she stepped out of the dress, it was as if someone had finally taken something heavy off her shoulders and she could breathe again. She’d always known that she didn’t care what those girls thought of her, but she’d never had the courage to really stand up to them. Now she finally had. She couldn’t believe it. She’d told the truth.

  When she walked out with the pile of dresses in her arms, the Icks were still in an ominous-looking huddle, Ava was nowhere to be seen, and the salesgirl was eyeing her from the register with pursed lips.

  “Here,” Carina said to the salesgirl, laying the dresses on the counter. “And the next time I tell you I’m not looking, I’m really not looking.”

  A giggle made her turn around. Cici whispered something into Kate’s ear. Kate giggled again, covering her mouth, and then gave Carina a smug so-what? look. Whatever, Carina thought, mentally rolling her eyes. Let them make fun of her.

  But it was Ilona who scared her. She pawed a rack of silk Stella McCartney tunics, but she wasn’t looking at the clothes. She was looking at Carina. A half smile curled across her pouty lips, while her eyes gave off the impression of a hundred wheels turning inside her head. She was thinking of something—something that, as soon as Carina walked out of the store, would undoubtedly be said to Ava.

  Ava walked out of the fitting room again, this time in a pale pink baby doll shift. Even though Carina was standing right in front of her, Ava didn’t seem to see her.

  “That looks good,” Carina said, suddenly feeling a little bad, as if she’d ruined someone’s party. “You should get that.”

  Ava drew herself up, put her hands on her hips, and finally gave Carina a half-withering, half-furious look.

  “Just don’t forget the cupcakes,” she sneered before she stomped back into the fitting room.

  chapter 25

  Frosting, it turned out, was tricky. Carina dug her spatula into the jar of Duncan Hines chocolate and smoothed another layer on top of the yellow cupcake, trying to get it even in the center and swirly around the edges. But it wasn’t easy. Maybe because she was still furious with Ava. After three applications, the frosting was patchy in places, and overly thick in others, and it rose in uneven waves all around the edges. The girls behind the counter at Magnolia Bakery would probably be horrified, she thought, but maybe, just maybe, she could get away with it for the party.

  Of course, she’d have to come up with another white lie for Ava. And after today’s incident in Intermix, it would have to be a good one. The bakery couldn’t be Sugarbabies—it would have to be some new, not yet opened place in SoHo, or better yet, a tony LA chain that catered to movie stars. What would it be called? Morsels? Frosties? And then she’d have to actually bake a few hundred cupcakes herself. Luckily, Duncan Hines was on sale this week at the Food Emporium. As soon as she mastered frosting, she’d stock up on cake mix (and maybe some food dye for the “red velvet” ones) and then her planning would finally be over. And at the end of it all, she’d have her money.

  Her money, she thought. She brushed a stray piece of blond hair away with her spatula handle and felt the same sinking feeling that arose whenever she thought about her paycheck. Why was she even doing this anymore? Especially now that she’d met Alex?

  Their magical night at the Killers concert three days ago had been on constant replay in her mind. She’d sent him a text the next day to thank him, but he hadn’t responded. Now it was Monday night, and she still hadn’t heard anything from him. But she wasn’t going to obsess over it, she reminded herself as she filled in a bare spot on her cupcake. She had dinner with her mom tonight to think about. Maybe she’d bring the best cupcake with her. Her mom had texted her that morning saying that she had made reservations for them tonight at Nobu, and she couldn’t wait to have their rock shrimp tempura.

  The kitchen door suddenly swung open. Instead of Nikita coming in to check that Carina wasn’t setting the apartment on fire, in walked her father. She’d almost forgotten this was the day he was coming home from London.

  “Carina, can I talk to you?” he asked. He was dressed in his workout clothes and perspiration still beaded his unlined forehead.

  “Sure,” she said, placing her badly frosted cupcake down on the counter. “What?” Normally her dad never asked if he could speak to her. He just went ahead and started talking. This was interesting.

  Her dad took out a bottle of water from the Sub-Zero fridge and frowned at the cupcakes. “First… what are you doing?” he asked.

  “Oh, I’m planning a party. The Silver Snowflake Ball,” she said, sitting up tentatively on the marble counter. “These are for the dessert.” This was another first, she thought. Usually the Jurg was so distracted that he didn’t even notice his surroundings.

  Her father stared forlornly at the badly frosted cupcakes. “You’re going to make them all yourself?”

  “Well, we wanted to go with Sugarbabies, that place on the Lower East Side with the awesome red velvets, but they’re a little pricey,” she said. “So I’m going with Duncan Hines instead. It’s almost just as good.”

  “I can’t imagine it is,” he said disdainfully. “When is this party?”

  “The last day of school before Christmas break,” she said. “The twentieth. Don’t worry. Exams will be over by then.”

  The Jurg didn’t pick up on her semisnarky tone. Instead he rubbed his chin and got quiet. “I spoke to Barb Willis today,” he said.

&nb
sp; Carina sat straight up on the counter, gripping the marble edges. She’d almost managed to forget that embarrassing fight with her dad at the Princess offices. “Oh, really?” she said.

  “We decided to cancel the story on you,” he said, unscrewing the cap on his water bottle. “It was a mutual decision. I figured you’d be happy to hear it.”

  “Oh,” she murmured, strangely disappointed.

  “It wasn’t your fault,” he said. “The more I think about it, the more I realize that you were right. It probably wasn’t a good idea.” He took a sip of water. “They’re going to find someone else. Someone more appropriate.”

  Carina had never seen him look this regretful before. She’d also never heard him say that she could be right about something.

  “Barb also told me about your critique of the magazine.”

  Carina gripped the edge of the counter harder. She’d almost forgotten that, too.

  “She loved what you said,” he went on. “In fact, she’s going to revamp the trend section based on your suggestions. And possibly redesign the logo. I’m not crazy about that logo, either. I always thought it was too pink. But what do I know about a magazine for teen girls?” He shrugged and took another sip. “She wants you to go back in there and meet with the entire editorial team. And be her new trend-spotter, if you want to be.”

  “Are you serious?” she asked.

  “You know, I was thinking,” he said, smiling faintly, “this is what I should have had you working on to begin with. The teen titles. All this time I’ve got an expert in my house and I never even thought of it.” He shook his head. “Would you ever consider coming back to work for me? Being my consultant on my teen properties?”

  “Dad…” she started.

  He nodded and held up his hand. “Okay, okay. I’m not going to force you. I’m done with doing that, God knows. But I’m very impressed with you, Carina. I really am.”

  Carina blinked. Her father had never been impressed with her. Ever.

  “So can I think about it?” she asked, putting the cap back on the frosting. “Doing the stuff for Princess?”

  “Absolutely. And there’s something else I want to discuss with you. What you said the other day about your mother.”

  She slid off the counter. With the tip of her finger she started to scrape off cooked cupcake from the sides of the baking pan. “We don’t have to talk about that,” she said.

  “No, I think we do,” he said. “I think it’s time I cleared up a few things with you. Some things you don’t know. Some things I wanted to spare you until you were older—”

  “Then spare me,” she blurted out, putting the cupcake pan in the sink. “We really don’t have to talk about it.”

  She ran water noisily over the pan.

  “Fine,” her father said, getting to his feet. “Suit yourself. But if you don’t want to know what really happened, then I’d keep the accusations to yourself.” He glanced once more at the unappealing collection of cupcakes lined up on the counter. “If you need to bake you should at least have Nikita help you.”

  “Okay.”

  “Are you going to this dance or are you just planning it?”

  She crouched down to the ground with a paper towel and cleaned up some drops of frosting. “I don’t know,” she said breezily. “I’m not sure I really want to go.”

  The Jurg tossed his empty water bottle into the stainless steel recycle bin. “You should call Roberta. If you want I can get her on the phone right now. I’m sure she’d be happy to help you—”

  “Dad, I’ve got it under control,” she said. “But thanks.”

  Her dad nodded and looked down at the ground. “Okay. See you later then,” he said, and he walked through the swinging door.

  She watched the kitchen door swing back and forth and listened to him walk up the steps. That’s when she realized that her dad had finally tried to have a real conversation with her. And she hadn’t let him.

  When she got back up to her room, there was a voice mail waiting on her phone. From her mom’s cell number.

  “Hey sweetie, it’s me! I’m running around getting some last-minute things for my trip… And honey, I’m so, so, so sorry, but it turns out I’m leaving for India tonight. It was just easier that way. But I promise we’ll get together on my way back. I’ll text you from the ashram, K? I love you!”

  Carina let the phone drop onto her bed. Now she wondered what it was that her dad had wanted to tell her.

  chapter 26

  “Bonjour, Mademoiselle Jurgensen,” said Madame Dupuis, as one pencil-drawn eyebrow rose sky-high on her forehead. “How nice of you to join us.”

  Carina rushed through the doorway of homeroom, pulling off her hat and slamming herself into the nearest empty desk.

  “Sorry, overslept,” she muttered. Oversleeping was a serious problem now that she had to take the subway to school. Unbuttoning her coat, she said a silent hi to Lizzie, Todd, and Hudson across the room. Lizzie returned the wave, and pointed to the seat next to her, but it was too far away to reach. At least Lizzie didn’t seem to be mad at her for storming out of the diner at lunch the day before. As soon as homeroom was over she’d go and try to smooth things over. But now she had at least three more geometry problems she had to solve before math class.

  As she opened her book, a vague sense of dread came over her, and suddenly she remembered her nightmare.

  She’d been ten years old again, and crouched in front of her parents’ bedroom door, listening to them fight. Her mother was crying and pleading with her dad to be decent. Her father was yelling that she’d lost her mind. And then someone—or something—began to claw at the door.

  Somehow Carina knew that it was her mom. She grabbed the doorknob and tried to turn it, but it wouldn’t budge. She tried and tried to open it, but the doorknob was locked in place, and her sweaty hands kept slipping, kept losing their hold on it…

  She’d woken up with tears streaming down her face and her hair stuck to her forehead. Just a nightmare, she’d thought, but her throat burned, and she knew that she was getting sick. The clock said seven fifty-five and the radio was chattering. Somehow she’d slept through her alarm. She leaped out of bed, splashed cold water on her face, and threw on her uniform. Five minutes later she was out the door and running to the subway in the cold. But the terror of the nightmare had stayed with her until she’d gotten on the train.

  Now as Madame Dupuis finished calling roll and Carina began last night’s homework, she tried to shake off the icky morning feeling once and for all. But then behind her, she heard a familiar giggle. The hairs on her arms stood up. She knew that giggle. She’d know it anywhere.

  Slowly, she turned around. Cici and Kate were sitting right behind her. Without taking their eyes off her, Kate whispered into Cici’s ear, and Cici cracked up again. Beside them Ilona kept staring at Carina with the same mocking half smile from yesterday. And on her other side, next to the blackboard, was Ava, calmly writing in her leather-covered notebook with her Tiffany pen. For a second, her brown eyes flicked up from her notebook and gave Carina a scathing glare. Carina whipped back around in her seat. Without even noticing, she’d sat down right in the middle of their territory. And now she was going to have to answer for what she’d done at Intermix. Clearly Ava and the Icks hadn’t forgiven her for her little outburst.

  When the bell finally rang, she stood up and gave Ava a radiant smile. “So did you get the purple dress?” she asked.

  Ava barely looked at her as she closed her notebook. “Yep,” she said tonelessly. “Thanks for your feedback.”

  “It looked great on you,” Carina said, hoping she didn’t sound too obvious. “The color was perfect.”

  Ava gave her a thin smile. “I think it was better than going to Forever 21, don’t you think?”

  Carina paused. “Yeah,” she said, unsure what to say.

  “So… what happened with the cupcakes?” Ava asked, tossing her purse over her shoulder. “Did you talk
to Sugarbabies?”

  Carina hadn’t expected Ava to launch into party talk. “Ye-es,” she fibbed, “but I decided to go with someone else. They didn’t think they could do that number of people. I guess they’re really booked up this time of year.”

  “Well, that’s funny,” Ava said, gesturing for the Icks to go on ahead. “I called Sugarbabies first thing this morning and they knew nothing about it. They said they never even heard from you.”

  Carina followed Ava to the door, starting to panic. She scrunched her wool hat in her hands. Be confident, she thought. “Well, I called them,” she said. “But maybe they didn’t remember because I never ended up placing an order.”

  Lizzie and Hudson gave her do-you-need-us? looks but Carina nodded for them to keep going.

  “Hmmm,” Ava said in an exaggerated way. “Are you sure? The manager said that none of the clerks there took a phone call about this. He said he’d remember a call about the Silver Snowflake Ball. Unless he’s lying, of course.”

  Carina stepped into the hall. Ava’s saucer-shaped eyes were locked on hers and burning their way past her skin. “Well, I don’t really know what to say. I definitely spoke to them. But I decided to—”

  “Go with someone else,” Ava cut in. “And who was that?” She cocked her head and waited.

  She knows I’m lying, Carina thought. She totally knows. “I have to look in my notes.”

  “You don’t remember?” Ava asked, almost smiling. “That’s weird. Where’d you hear about them?”

  Carina bit her bottom lip. She felt like she was on the witness stand. “Just through word of mouth.”

  “Right. Like that restaurant in the West Village. The one that’s ‘under-the-radar,’ ” she said sarcastically, hooking her fingers around the phrase. “By the way, I really need the contact info for that place. Just to make sure we’re all on track for the food. Or have you forgotten what that’s called, too? Oh, wait!” Ava batted her eyes. “It doesn’t have a name, does it? How convenient.”

  Ava’s tone cut right through her. “Um, I’m gonna have to get back to you,” Carina said, her heart beating faster. “I can’t really remember right now.”