Belles

by Jen Calonita

  “We’ll introduce her next week or the following at a dinner, I think,” Lucas said, having a one-track mind. “And I’m readying a press release. I think the reaction will be positive. This is an incredible thing your family is doing.” Mira resisted the urge to gag. Of course Lucas was working an angle already. She was still trying to figure out how she and this girl were related.

  Her dad looked at her. “What are you thinking, Pea?” That’s what he always called Mira as a baby—Sweet Pea. Later it was shortened to just Pea. At the moment, that’s how small she felt.

  “It’s a lot to digest.” She thumbed her glass again and looked at the melting ice.

  Her dad hardly asked her opinion anymore. He used to all the time, but now he was too busy reforming the North Carolina school lunch program to ask Mira what she thought of his necktie. Today he wanted her approval, and Mira couldn’t let him down. She never had before. She sighed. “I think what you’re doing is amazing.”

  “We’re all doing it,” he said, and squeezed Mira’s hand. “We’ll make her feel welcome, and before you know it, it will feel like she’s always been a Monroe.”

  “You never told us her name,” Mira realized.

  “It’s Isabelle,” her dad said, and smiled softly. “Isabelle Scott. She spells her name the same way we spell yours,” her dad added.

  Her mother nodded approvingly. “So pretty that way.”

  “It sounds like your name!” Connor exclaimed to Mira.

  “It does, doesn’t it?” Mira said thoughtfully, unsure of how she felt about the similarity. She wasn’t sure what she thought about any of this, really, and she didn’t have a lot of time to sort her feelings out. Whether Mira liked it or not, Isabelle Scott was on her way.

  Five

  Barbara’s car pulled away from 22 Hancock Street at the same time the Coastal Assisted Living van pulled out of the driveway with Grams tucked inside. Izzie watched the house disappear into the distance. She had a feeling this would be the last time she’d ever see it.

  Barbara didn’t push her to make conversation in the car. She’d worked overtime trying to do that while Izzie had packed. Didn’t Barbara know how upset Izzie was? The last thing she wanted to do was make light conversation with her social worker while she tried to pack up her life in half an hour. She grabbed her first swim team medal and the framed picture of her and her mom at the shore the summer before she died. She tucked the frame between her Michael Jackson tee and her Harborside Beach Lifeguard jacket to keep it from breaking. The lavender paisley comforter Grams had bought her but Izzie never really liked would “accidentally” be left behind, along with the collection of dusty Beanie Babies Grams never wanted her to throw away (“You spent your allowance on those!”).

  Izzie knew Barbara was just trying to do her job by loitering nearby while Izzie filled the large duffel bag to the brim, but her job didn’t give her the big picture. Izzie may have hated the lily wallpaper (which was why she’d covered it in black-and-white beach photos), and she wouldn’t miss the green garage-sale desk where she did her homework, but this was still her room, and had been her whole life. She couldn’t imagine loving anywhere as much as she did 22 Hancock Street. She liked how smooth the worn wooden banister felt on her hand as she hurried down the stairs (late for school—again) and how the sunlight hit the antique glass window in the foyer. She’d even miss the crooked front porch with its leaning porch swing.

  She’d never again bike over to the Associate to buy a Powerade. She wouldn’t ride up to the boardwalk and feel the wind on her face. She didn’t know the next time she’d see her friends, the community center, or the swim team. Maybe there was a way she could still come back and compete. And she could probably take the bus to the boardwalk, right? Izzie didn’t know the Monroes, but they’d probably appreciate her earning her keep. If she kept lifeguarding, she could still see Brayden, and picturing Brayden’s face was the only thing giving her a calm exterior. Inside, she was freaking out. She quickly sent a text to him and Kylie so they’d know where she was.

  IZZIE’S CELL: Don’t freak out. IM OK, but had 2 leave town & won’t B back anytime soon. Grams going into nursing home. Social taking me 2 new digs. Not sure what will happen, but will explain all when I resurface. Miss U guys already. xoxo Iz

  Was the “miss you” part too much to write to Brayden? Izzie didn’t have time to debate it. She hit Send as Barbara turned onto Harborside’s main drag. She pressed her face against the window and watched the storefronts she knew so well scroll by. When they passed the community center, Izzie felt a pang in her stomach so sharp that she had to grip the door handle. Izzie felt like Barbara was torturing her by moving so slowly, but the truth was, Barbara drove like a snail all the time.

  Barbara’s voice suddenly filled the dead air. “Do you want me to put on some music?”

  “No.” Izzie kept her hand pressed to the window and watched as the center disappeared from sight. She slumped back in her seat. There was nothing left to see as far as she was concerned. They’d pass the school next, and she couldn’t actually say she would miss the metal detectors and bag checks. She closed her eyes and thought about going to sleep, but the hum of the Taurus’s engine kept her from drifting off. Finally she opened her eyes again and looked outside, hoping for a distraction.

  They were cruising down a forest-lined highway Izzie had never been on. She hadn’t traveled anywhere outside Harborside, except on field trips. After a while the highway turned into a local road, and they passed coastal towns with boatyards and tackle supply stores. The GPS alerted Barbara to make a right, and she slowed down. That’s when Izzie saw the large wooden sign.

  EMERALD COVE HOME OF THE FIGHTING CARDINALS ESTABLISHED 1888

  Harborside didn’t even have a sign. Emerald Cove’s was carved with gold Gothic lettering that seemed to hint at the town’s status. But fighting cardinals? Seriously? Izzie didn’t have time to debate it. She was too busy staring out the window. Forget sweet Victorians. Here, the houses all had a football field for a lawn. They sat on hilltops and were so big they could fit Izzie’s entire block inside (okay, slight exaggeration). Then the car passed more ornate signs that announced things like the Emerald Cove Yacht Club, Emerald Prep, Emerald Landing, and the Emerald Cove Elementary School Administration Building. Finally they crossed a bridge that led onto a main street that looked like it had been plucked from a movie. Small, one-story shops with pretty, identical storefronts passed by. There was an ice-cream shop, a Gap, two different bookstores, a swimwear boutique, Italian restaurants, something called the Library that actually looked like it served food, an Apple Store, bakeries, and a crazy cosmetic store with white plastic models in the window. The only thing that seemed out of place was a fifties-style diner called Corky’s that had neon lights. Barbara passed a park where a band was playing and then slowed to a stop in front of a guard booth.

  “Hi. We’re going to the Monroes on Cliffside Drive,” Barbara told a guy in a uniform that had the words Emerald Cove Estates embroidered on his lapel.

  “Name please?”

  “Barbara Sanchez and Isabelle Scott.”

  You need permission to actually drive down their street, Izzie thought in awe. Who exactly are these people?

  The guard picked up a telephone and said their names to someone, and the next thing she knew the gate was lifting and Barbara had permission to drive past the most stunning homes Izzie had ever seen.

  “This is it,” Barbara said, pulling up to a gorgeous moss-green Colonial with a wraparound porch. Izzie’s jaw practically hit the floor. This was not a house; it was a mansion! What looked like three brand-new cars sat in the driveway and a dirt bike she’d drooled over at the bike shop blocked the long brick path to the door. Every light in the house was on, and the front door was wide open. She was still upset, obviously, but she couldn’t help being impressed. This was where she was going to live now?

  Her duffel bag was thrust into her arms. “Ready?” Barbara aske
d, startling her.

  No? Izzie felt slightly dizzy and too shocked to move, but she managed to get out of the car and follow Barbara to the front door. Barbara rang the doorbell and a blond woman in a navy dress came trotting out.

  “You’re here!” she said, sounding both overwhelmed and excited. Izzie felt the same way. “She’s here!” she yelled to the empty hallway. Her smile was bright as her eyes darted from Barbara to Izzie. She slid the bag off Izzie’s shoulder before she could protest. “You’re beautiful!” she said, staring at Izzie intently before realizing what she was doing. “Sorry. Where are my manners?” She extended a slender hand. “It’s so nice to meet you, Isabelle. I’m your aunt, Maureen.”

  “Hi,” Izzie said, unsure of what to say after that. What did you say to someone who was taking you in without even meeting you first? Thanks for having me just didn’t cut it.

  Her new aunt looked at Barbara. “Did you find the house okay? I hope the ride wasn’t too long. I meant to have Bill’s assistant send you directions for a shortcut, but…”

  “Isabelle,” a tall, graying man in a dark suit said her name so seriously, Izzie felt like he was doing roll call at school. Barbara and her aunt stopped talking as the man took Izzie’s hand. “I’m your uncle, Bill.” He squeezed her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said hoarsely, and let go of her hand. “I—we’re—so glad you could join us.”

  The sentence sounded funny, as if Izzie were being invited to a party. “Thanks,” she said, and stared at her flip-flops.

  “The drive here okay?” he asked, looking from Barbara to Izzie and back.

  “Yes, Senator, no traffic at all. We made good time,” Barbara told him, and her voice petered out.

  Senator, Izzie reminded herself. Her uncle was a senator. No wonder they had a place like this.

  A grandfather clock in a nearby room ticked loudly as everyone stood there awkwardly. No one seemed to know how to make conversation with a girl who’d landed on their doorstep with a few hours’ notice. It didn’t help that Izzie could feel her uncle staring at her. She finally looked up, and he blushed.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to… You just… you look a lot like Chloe.”

  Izzie’s breath caught in her throat. She was always this way. Even though it had been a few years since her mom passed, it hadn’t started hurting any less. She couldn’t talk about her mom. Not tonight. Losing Grams, her home, coming here… Her mouth felt too dry to find words that made sense.

  “But of course, I haven’t seen your mom in a long time….” Izzie’s uncle trailed off. “Are you hungry?” he asked quickly, his voice changing gears. “You must be hungry. We can make something for you. Or maybe you’re tired? Do you want to see your room?”

  “Yes, your room,” Izzie’s aunt said exuberantly. “Mirabelle is going to show it to you. She’ll be in the same grade as Isabelle this year,” she told Barbara, “which should ease Isabelle’s transition to Emerald Prep immensely.”

  Izzie’s eyes glanced around the spacious foyer. A living room with a huge fireplace was to her left and a formal dining room to her right. The chandelier that hung over the table was so big it looked like it would crack the table if it ever came crashing down. That’s all she could think about as two boys in dress pants and pressed shirts approached her. The younger one was carrying a soccer ball. Both had white-blond hair and green eyes and looked like their mom.

  “Isabelle, right?” the one who appeared to be close to her own age asked. She nodded. “I’m Hayden,” he said. “And this is Connor.” The younger boy smiled and shook her hand gruffly. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  Izzie’s aunt frowned. “Where’s Mirabelle?”

  “I’m here!” A beautiful girl with wavy brown hair ran down the stairs. Izzie noticed the girl quickly give her a once-over, her hazel eyes lingering on Izzie’s beat-up flipflops. Mirabelle was dressed like she was on her way out to a party. “Sorry! I was on the phone. Friend drama!” She rolled her eyes and laughed. “Hi,” she said to Izzie, shaking her hand. “I’m Mirabelle, but everyone calls me Mira.”

  “Your friends are always fighting,” Connor moaned.

  “Here’s your first piece of Monroe advice,” Hayden told Izzie. “If Mira is on the phone with someone named Taylor or Savannah, you might want to use your cell to make a call.”

  Mira swatted him. “Don’t give her the wrong idea!” She smiled brightly at Izzie. “It’s not like I’m on the phone twenty-four-seven. And I’m never late.”

  “That’s true,” Izzie’s uncle agreed. “Punctuality is a family motto to a fault.”

  Izzie wasn’t about to mention that the Scott tradition was the opposite—never on time.

  “Do you need help with your stuff?” Hayden asked, and the whole family peered out the door at Barbara’s old Taurus.

  “Good idea,” Izzie’s aunt said. “Do you have boxes in the car, dear? Or did you need us to send a moving van? I’m sorry we weren’t there to help you move. This all happened so quickly,” she said, and pushed her hair behind her ears. She had on diamond studs the size of golf balls. “Or we can go pick your stuff up in the morning before we get you fitted for your school uniform.”

  “I brought everything with me,” Izzie said, coloring slightly at the fuss. “Unless you need to send for my bed and dresser.” Barbara had carried two large boxes in with her, and there were a few left in the car, but she had taken everything that was important. At least she thought she had. Her head was still spinning from packing.

  “That’s her bike strapped to the top of my car,” Barbara said, motioning to the Taurus.

  “I can’t believe that’s all you brought,” Mira said. “I would have needed a U-Haul.” Her mother gave her a look and Mira instantly stopped talking, but it was too late. Izzie could tell already that her cousin was nothing like her, and she had a feeling Mira was thinking the exact same thing.

  Izzie’s aunt wove her arm around Izzie’s awkwardly. “I guess we have some shopping to do this weekend. You’re in good hands, Isabelle. I’m an expert shopper.”

  “She is American Express’s best customer,” Izzie’s uncle said, and Hayden and Mira laughed.

  “We’ll have time to get you everything you need before school starts,” Izzie’s aunt said confidently, and Izzie tried not to feel weird that her aunt still had her arm. “I’ve already called ahead to make sure they have various sizes of the school uniform for you to try on at the town shop. We might even be able to get you a few dresses this weekend if we have time.” She winked and peered at Izzie’s duffel bag. “And I guess you’ll need a laptop, too, and—do you have a cell phone? No matter. We’ll have to switch you to our family plan anyway. I wonder if we have time to get to the Apple Store before brunch at the club. Hmm…” She waved her hand before Izzie could answer her. “Never mind. There will be time to go over all this. Things will be well in order by Monday. I promise.” She smiled. “This is a whole new start for you, Isabelle, and we want you to have everything you need to succeed.”

  Uniforms? Laptops? Dresses? Izzie didn’t think she’d worn a dress since her sixth-grade graduation. She felt like she had just entered the twilight zone. How could people who barely knew her be so willing to give her everything she needed and more? The idea would have been exciting if she wasn’t still so upset.

  “Why don’t you three give Isabelle a tour of the house while we go over a few things with Ms. Sanchez?” Izzie’s aunt suggested. “We can meet up for dessert in, say, half an hour?” She looked at her watch, and Izzie wondered if she was about to set a timer. “If you think of anything you might need for tonight, Isabelle, just let Mirabelle know. Pajamas, a toothbrush—she’ll get it for you.” Izzie watched her aunt, her uncle, and Barbara turn and walk down the hallway. They were talking in hushed tones.

  “They are probably headed to Dad’s office. We’ll just go this way,” Mira told her, smiling as she led the group in the opposite direction. “So this is the living room,” she said
, gesturing to the cobblestone fireplace and massive built-in bookshelves that covered one wall. Lights shone on several trophies and photographs, one of which looked like Izzie’s uncle with the president. Yowza.

  “What grade are you in?” Hayden asked as they headed back through the foyer, past the dining room, into the first of what appeared to be two dens.

  She was so busy trying to count the fireplaces she’d seen so far that she almost missed the question. “Tenth,” she said.

  “Me, too!” Mira squealed. “So fun! Hayden’s in eleventh and Connor’s in first, but he won’t be in Emerald Prep till sixth grade. Do you play any sports? I play field hockey.”

  Izzie ran her hand along a mahogany table. “I swim.”

  “My best friend is on the swim team!” Mira gushed. “You’re going to love Savannah.”

  Hayden coughed. “You’re so not.” Izzie bit her lip. She had a feeling she would like Hayden.

  “Tryouts are the second week of school,” Mira continued. “What team were you on? Have you been swimming long? Because”—Mira thumbed the gold necklace around her neck and looked solemn—“our school is supercompetitive. It’s the most prestigious high school in the state. It’s tough to get into, but don’t worry, you’re already in. They didn’t name the new sports complex after my dad for nothing! Wait till you see the swim center.” Mira was talking so quickly, Izzie could barely keep up. “Our swim team has won our division the past two years. Not that you’re not good, I’m sure, but just so you know what you’re up against.” Izzie’s stomach started to churn with nervousness. Her new school sounded both incredible and horrifying.

  “Don’t worry,” Hayden assured her. “You can practice here before tryouts. We have a pool in the backyard and a lap pool, too. No one uses it. Dad thought he’d take up swimming, but I guess he forgot you need time to exercise.”