Winter White

by Calonita, Jen

  Izzie might hate doing press, but she and Mira liked working with Callista. She talked to them before booking appearances, and even when they groaned about interviews, she didn’t get ticked off. Instead, she took the time to listen to what was bothering them, like a friend would. Callista even gave them advice when their problems had nothing to do with press at all. She was the perfect buffer between them and Bill.

  Callista’s BlackBerry pinged. She glanced at the screen and frowned. “Okay, I take back the part about getting a breather.” Mira, Izzie, and Hayden groaned. “This is the last thing, I promise! The North Carolina Monthly wants to come by tomorrow at three-thirty to take pictures of you guys playing flag football in the backyard.”

  Mira groaned the loudest, letting her displeasure for contact sports be known.

  “Mira, don’t tell me you’ve never tossed around a pigskin.” Callista stopped herself, looking at Mira in her Elie Tahari dress and peep-toe pumps. “Okay, we’ll have Hayden show you how.” Connor snorted. “One more thing,” she added as she continued scrolling through her messages. She glanced at Bill, who had barely said a word since he got in the car. “I pitched the morning shows the idea of coming to your house to see you throw a barbecue for Izzie’s community center. It was a long shot, which is why I never said anything, but I just got an e-mail from a producer at Good Morning America who might be interested.”

  “Seriously?” Izzie couldn’t help being surprised.

  Callista nodded. “Why not make you guys look good and get a plug for your community center at the same time? You said it could use some TLC, right?”

  “Absolutely.” She couldn’t believe Callista remembered how much Harborside’s community center meant to her. The thought of the center going under because of a lack of funding—which was the rumor, even after all the money she’d helped raise at Emerald Prep’s recent fall festival—made Izzie sick to her stomach.

  “That’s a wonderful idea, Callista.” Bill nodded approvingly.

  “I love the idea of helping Izzie’s community center, too. We’ll just have to make sure there’s enough time to hire caterers and a waitstaff and get more seating for the yard and…” Aunt Maureen fidgeted slightly.

  “Don’t panic.” Callista’s short pink nails flew across the BlackBerry keys. “I have people who can take care of every detail. You won’t have to do a thing, Maureen.”

  Bill chuckled. “I’m not sure what panics my wife more: that this party could actually happen or that you’re leaving her completely out of the planning.”

  “Want to shop for outfits for the family?” Callista suggested. She was speaking Aunt Maureen’s language now. “How do you guys feel about matching shirts?”

  Connor looked up from his Nintendo DS. “Cool! Can they be red like Iron Man?”

  “Uh, I don’t know, C. I think we would feel too matchy,” said Hayden.

  Bill jumped in. “Callista, if you think we need matching shirts, we’ll wear matching shirts. You are Yoda till I get a new campaign manager in here to boss us all around.”

  Izzie knew he was joking, but his comment wasn’t funny. His last campaign manager, Lucas Hale, had blackmailed her and was the reason why Bill had covered up his paternity in the first place. Just thinking about Lucas made her queasy. Wendy made her nauseated. Seeing her own picture in the paper all the time made her ill, too. Maybe what she needed right now was lunch. She was starving.

  “I am not being caught dead in matching shirts,” Mira declared. Izzie couldn’t imagine Mira in anything other than high-end designer clothing, like the fitted beige dress she had on now. “I get enough grief at school without having videos on YouTube pop up of me looking like one of the Von Trapp kids.”

  “Do people even know who the Von Trapps are?” Hayden wondered aloud. “Not everyone was as annoyingly obsessed with The Sound of Music as you were.” Hayden was the only one in the family who had regained his sense of humor after everything that had happened. He had even made peace with their dad. One golf outing together and the two were already back on good terms. Izzie couldn’t imagine forgiving someone that easily. But then again, Bill hadn’t lied to Hayden about being his father.

  Mira’s voice reached a feverish shrill when Hayden started singing “Do-Re-Mi.”

  “Okay, we’ll forget about the matching shirts,” Aunt Maureen said to keep the peace. “Is anyone up for a celebratory lunch?” Mira’s mom pulled out her BlackBerry and began scrolling through restaurants in the surrounding area without waiting for a response. “That seafood place we’ve been dying to try, Wildfish, is right near here.” Her eyes met Izzie’s. “What do you say? We haven’t had a decent meal out together as a family since…” She trailed off.

  Since we all found out Bill lied, Izzie thought.

  “Don’t you guys want to start acting like a family again?” Aunt Maureen pressed. She was met with more silence. Mira appeared to be examining a chip in her nails, and Izzie stared at her shoes. “We need to stop ignoring each other when there isn’t a camera around to capture every sound bite. We can’t fix things unless we sit down and talk, and maybe a restaurant is just the neutral territory we need.” Aunt Maureen sounded so desperate, Izzie felt bad.

  “I’m with your mother,” Bill agreed. “If Callista wouldn’t mind, we could drop her off first.” Callista nodded. His face was pensive. “There is so much I want to say—”

  “I have to study for my Spanish midterm,” Izzie interrupted. “I don’t want my being out of school for a talk show taping to affect my grades, which are on their way up.” She could feel the anger bubbling up inside her again. She might have liked being able to skip school for the day, but she was not sitting at a table and making small talk with Bill. It was hard enough being in the same car.

  “I was great at Spanish,” Bill said, his hazel eyes meeting hers. “I could help you when we get home later. Podemos trabajar en su tarea juntos.”

  “No, gracias. Que puedo hacer yo mismo la tarea. Estoy bien,” Izzie said, hoping that proved she could handle studying on her own.

  “Very good,” Bill said softly. He turned to Mira. “Pea, what about you?”

  “Please don’t call me that,” she said quietly, playing with her Pandora bracelet.

  “Mira”—her mom sounded exasperated—“that’s been your nickname since birth.”

  “I have a landscape scene I have to finish for my painting class since I was out today, too.” Mira’s eyes met Izzie’s. Maybe their dad was ready to make peace, but they weren’t.

  “What if we ate somewhere in EC?” Aunt Maureen suggested. “Somewhere close so you girls could—”

  “No,” Izzie and Mira said in unison. They both smiled slightly. They were a lot of things at the moment, but mad at each other was not one of them.

  “Hayden? Connor?” Bill asked, trying not to look hurt.

  “I don’t have plans,” Hayden told him as he tried to steal the DS from Connor.

  Connor clung to his DS. “Somewhere with fries?” Their dad nodded. “I’m in!”

  “Girls, are you sure you can’t get away and…” Aunt Maureen’s voice trailed off. Izzie had tuned out again, and she assumed Mira had done the same. She watched the open farmland roll by her window. The car grew quiet again. “Well, if you really can’t come,” Aunt Maureen said reluctantly, “we’ll drop you guys off first.”

  Izzie breathed a sigh of relief. She wasn’t in the mood for another fight or a family feeling session. Forget studying for Spanish. All she wanted to do was clear her head and hit the waves. And that’s exactly what she planned on doing.

  Three

  “Bye! Have a super time at lunch!” Callista waved as the limo backed out of the Monroes’ driveway. Mira watched the car go, her hair billowing in the light breeze and getting caught in her lip gloss. She still felt deflated. She wondered if Izzie felt as guilty as she did for bailing on the post–Wendy “Big Mouth” Wallington Show celebratory lunch. Her mom had looked disappointed, but Mira st
ill couldn’t force herself to break bread with her dad. Even though it had been more than two weeks since he told them the truth about Izzie, every time Mira thought about what he did, she wanted to scream. She had a sister. A sister. And she was standing right next to her with a pout on her face that was probably an exact duplicate of Mira’s own.

  Callista waved till the car disappeared from sight, then turned to the girls with a sad smile that was partially masked by the breeze whipping her hair around. “You can breathe, ladies. They’re gone. You’ve got at least two hours to bash your dad all you want.”

  “Is it that obvious?” Izzie asked, scuffing the brick driveway with her flip-flops. The heels she had been forced to wear for the taping hung from her right hand by the straps.

  “A little bit,” Callista admitted. “But probably only to me because I know what you guys have been through. You guys were rock stars on Wendy’s show. You made my job much easier, but I’m sure it wasn’t much fun for either of you.”

  Mira bit her lip. “Do you think the audience could tell?”

  Callista shook her head. “No. Just me. I know your quirks already.” She pointed to Mira. “You make a fist every time someone asks you something that makes you nervous, and Izzie taps her feet like drumsticks.” Callista studied them curiously. “Things aren’t getting any better with your dad?” Izzie and Mira shook their heads.

  “I know he’s trying, but I don’t forgive him,” Mira said.

  “Don’t look at me,” Izzie said. “I get angry just being in the same room as him.”

  “Me, too,” Mira agreed, happy to have an ally. She and Izzie were so in sync lately, it was scary. This fight with their dad might be rough, but it had brought her and Izzie closer. “Last night at dinner, he said, ‘Mira, pass the peas?’ and I wanted to throw the whole bowl at him.” She bit her lip. “That’s wrong, isn’t it?”

  Izzie laughed. “It could have been worse. You didn’t actually pelt him with peas.” She grinned mischievously. “I, on the other hand, think I spent half of dinner dreaming about dumping the bowl of mashed potatoes on his head!”

  “I probably wouldn’t forgive my dad yet, either,” Callista agreed. “I think it’s practically law in the teen handbook to fight with your parents. I know I did. Just don’t do it in public,” she added as an afterthought. Callista reached into an oversize Gucci bag and fumbled for her keys. “Now, do you guys really have places to be and tests to cram for, or can I take you somewhere for lunch that your family will never find you? You have the day off from school! You should do something fun.”

  Mira smiled to herself. This was why she liked Callista so much. The public-image guru might work for her dad, but she seemed to know exactly how it felt to be a frustrated fifteen-year-old girl. Every interview or press request she gave to the girls came with an apology (“Diane Sawyer doesn’t deserve to know what you think about half siblings, but it would help your family a ton if you answered the question anyway.”). When they finished an event, Callista let them complain (“Maria Menounos really asked you that? How tacky. I’m going to give her a piece of my mind.”). Callista acted like their big sister. Their dad had done one thing right by hiring her.

  Izzie looked up from texting. “While I could use something other than the celery sticks Wendy had in her green-room, I have to pass. Brayden has off last period, so he is skipping out early and meeting me to surf.”

  “In this weather?” Mira asked. The breeze sent leaves tumbling down the driveway almost like they were trying to say they agreed with her. Callista’s cell rang loudly to put in its two cents, too. Callista stepped away to take the call.

  “It’s not that cold,” Izzie said. She headed for the front door to go get her wet suit and board. Once Izzie had her mind set on something, there was no talking her out of it.

  At Emerald Prep, everyone thought Izzie and Brayden were doomed, and they weren’t even officially going out yet. No one took Savannah Ingram’s boyfriend and lived to tell the tale. But Mira couldn’t help being impressed with Izzie anyway. She always seemed to know what she wanted, and she went after it with gusto. Maybe it was time she tried that. She couldn’t stop thinking about Kellen Harper. He had been kind of weird at the fall dance, but Mira still thought—okay, hoped—he might be into her. Maybe it was time she found out for sure. She got out her phone and texted him.

  MIRA’S CELL: Hey, do I smell french fries?

  Kellen always had food on his mind, so she wasn’t surprised when he texted her back.

  KELLEN’S CELL: Smothered w/cheese & bacon? I’m there.

  MIRA’S CELL: Corky’s. Meet you there in a bit?

  KELLEN’S CELL: Yep! Need time to digest first. Just had lunch.

  MIRA’S CELL: LOL. Deal!

  Callista ended her call and walked back over to Mira, who was now grinning from ear to ear. “What about you?” Callista asked. “I know you’re not putting on a wet suit.”

  “I’ve never worn a wet suit, and I don’t intend to start now,” Mira said. “They’re too clingy. They show everything.” She shivered at the thought.

  “I agree,” Callista said. “So, want to drown your daddy sorrows in a milk shake at Corky’s? I keep hearing how good that place is, but I feel too lame to go alone.”

  Were publicists also psychic? “I’m actually meeting someone there a little later,” Mira said sheepishly. She wanted to add, “You can join us,” but hanging with both Kellen and Callista seemed strange. “Corky’s is great, though. Want to go tomorrow instead?”

  “Nah. This is the universe’s way of telling me I don’t need a milk shake,” Callista told her. Mira doubted that. Callista was probably a size two. She’d said she had a scary-fast metabolism, and her pants were always falling down on her. “Are you sure you don’t want to talk about anything that happened at the taping?” she asked one last time. “I felt bad when Connor caught you off guard with that bathroom comment.”

  Mira winced. Why did Connor have to call out her bathroom habits? He was six, but still. “That’s not your fault. You can’t know everything Wendy was going to ask me.”

  Callista laughed. “I should. That’s my job! You bounced back quickly, though.”

  When Wendy “Big Mouth” Wallington—her dad’s supposed good friend from college—had asked Mira whether they were one big, happy family, Mira had smiled, of course. She had been raised to be a proper Southern belle, and that’s how she always behaved. She had grown up in front of cameras, thanks to her dad’s professional ball-playing and political careers, but that morning she wished she could have thrown some punches. Not just at Wendy for her invasive questions, but at her darling dad, the one she had always held up on a pedestal. Maybe she and Izzie wouldn’t have had such friction if they had known the truth. They were still polar opposites—if their two hometowns were jewels, Emerald Cove would be emeralds, of course, and Izzie’s Harborside would be the plastic stuff you got in Piggly Wiggly vending machines—but they were trying to get along now. They had been through too much not to.

  Callista unlocked her Prius, which was sitting at the curb. “Want a ride to Corky’s?”

  “Oh, I’m not going to Corky’s yet,” Mira said with a grin. “First I’m going to de-stress.”

  “How do you plan on doing that?” Callista asked.

  “By doing what I always do when I’m stressed. Shop.”

  Four

  Two and a half hours later, Izzie and Brayden collapsed in a booth at Scoops, their favorite Harborside Pier haunt. Between the frigid water and the chill in the air, they were still trying to catch their breath.

  “Let’s promise each other right now,” said Brayden, holding out his pinkie. Izzie hooked her finger with his. “We will not go back in the water till May.”

  Izzie pouted, her lips still blue. Being able to go from her front door to the ocean in less than ten minutes flat used to be her favorite thing about living in Harborside. Now that she lived in Emerald Cove, she had to make actual plans to go to t
he beach. She hated the idea of not getting back in the ocean till May, but she kept her finger linked with Brayden’s anyway. She liked when their hands touched.

  Brayden kept his blue-green eyes on her, almost as if he knew she still needed persuading. “Iz, today it was only sixty degrees! That means the water temperature was only…”

  “I know, I know.” Izzie tried to run her free hand through her sticky hair. The Wendy show hairstylist had put so much lacquer in her normally product-free tresses that her locks were practically one big knot now that they’d been tangled up by the waves. “You think it’s too cold to swim, even with a wet suit on.” She didn’t want to admit it, but she knew he was right. When they dove in today, her body practically screamed in protest at the icy intrusion.

  “I think?” Brayden repeated. “Everyone thinks so!”

  “Everyone?” Izzie gave him a skeptical look. “No one else was out there.”

  “Exactly!” Brayden said. “Other people are smart! They don’t go in the freezing cold water just because the girl they like wants to and they don’t want to seem like a jerk for saying no.” She bit her lip and blushed. “The only fools in the water today were us and the pelicans, and they thought we were crazy, too.” Izzie tried not to laugh. “Oh yeah, I totally speak pelican,” he said seriously. “It is one of my hidden talents.”

  Brayden looked so cute, it was hard for her to keep a straight face. His light brown hair was still wet from the frothy surf, and he had changed out of his wet suit in the back room of Scoops and into jeans, a long-sleeve T, and his rope necklace with the pirate medallion. This is how she liked seeing Brayden, not in his stuffy private school uniform. Here, he was relaxed, funny, and all hers, without the drama of Emerald Cove breathing down their necks.

  Brayden was still ranting. “If we had seen any dolphins, I’m sure they would have thought we were deranged as well. Even the penguins…”