by Jen Calonita
“It is so cool!” Connor added. “It counts the laps and times you and everything. Sometimes I go in with a tube just to get bounced around.”
“What is your best time?” Mira pressed. “Best stroke? When did you learn how to…”
Izzie stared at the den. It was her favorite room so far. A fireplace roared underneath a flat-screen TV, and the brown leather sectional looked so inviting, Izzie wanted to go lie on it and sleep for a week. On one wall were framed photos of each of the Monroe kids. Hayden running, Connor on rocks at the beach—Mira’s garden shot could have been ripped out of Vogue. Maybe it had. Her cousin looked like she could model.
Izzie couldn’t concentrate. How did she get here? Three hours ago she’d been biking home from the boardwalk, worrying about what Barbara wanted, and now she was in a mansion that she was supposed to call home and was talking about private schools and personal lap pools. She knew she should be excited. Connor was right—a lap pool was awesome. So were mall trips for new clothes and a laptop, which she’d always wanted. But as soon as she started to get excited, she thought of Grams and Harborside and felt guilty. She was so confused. Was it okay to be amazed by this new life being dangled in front of her? Or should she feel bad?
Hayden watched Izzie carefully. “You’ve probably had a long night, huh?”
Long doesn’t begin to describe it, Izzie thought, grateful Hayden noticed. “Yeah, I’m sorry. Do you think we could cut the tour short and I could see my room? I have to crash.”
“But we still have a few rooms left to see.” Mira sounded disappointed. “And we have dessert downstairs. Paula made an apple strudel that is to die for.”
“When is the last time you tried her strudel?” Hayden asked coyly.
“It smells good,” Mira said defensively, crossing her bare arms. Several silver bracelets dangled from them.
“I’ll take a rain check,” Izzie said, looking across the great room at the equally big kitchen that was attached to it. A strudel, plates, silverware, and glasses, including champagne, lay on the island waiting.
“It will taste better cold at breakfast,” Hayden agreed. “Let’s show you your room.”
The second floor was just as dazzling as the first. The tour stopped briefly so that Connor could show off his room, which was baseball-themed and had several large decals on the walls, one of Connor at bat. Izzie’s and Mira’s rooms, Hayden explained, were in their own wing.
“We’ll have to work out a bathroom schedule,” Mira said.
“Just so neither of us gets a late start. Unless, of course, you want to use one of the other four bathrooms we have up here.” Hayden cleared his throat. “What else can we tell you?” She rubbed her hands together and her bracelets clinked. “Our housekeeper handles all the day-to-day stuff, like making school lunches—not that any of us actually take them. And you can leave her a list of food you like so the kitchen is stocked. Now, about laundry…”
“Connor, why don’t you show Isabelle those pictures on the wall?” Hayden suggested.
It didn’t take a genius to figure out what he was doing. He probably thought she couldn’t hear him over Connor’s chatter, but Izzie still could.
“Could you stop laying it on so thick?” Hayden whispered. “You sound fake.”
“I’m trying to be friendly!” Mira protested. “This whole situation is weird, okay? I’m trying, which is more than she’s doing.”
Izzie’s cheeks flamed. Is that what Mira thought? It wasn’t that she was unhappy—she didn’t know what she was at the moment. She only knew she was tired. She wished Mira realized how strange this all was for her, too. She needed time to wrap her head around what had happened tonight and what was going to happen from here on out. She wanted to be grateful—she was grateful—but she had no clue how to express it. Instead she’d ticked off Mira. Izzie felt bad, but she was too exhausted to rally with conversation as cheerful as Mira could pull off.
“She’s tired, remember?” Hayden pointed out. “This has got to be hard on her.”
“And us,” Mira hissed. “This is as tough for us as it is for her.”
“You sound like Savannah.” Hayden’s voice rose slightly. “What’s wrong with you? Ever since you started hanging out with her, you’ve been—”
“Savannah has nothing to do with this,” Mira said through gritted teeth. “This is hard on everyone. She could at least try….”
“Isabelle, come see your room,” Hayden interrupted, calling to Izzie. “Mira, want to tell her about it?”
“Sure,” Mira said unsurely before purposefully strutting forward and flashing a grin.
Did she really think Izzie hadn’t heard what she’d just said? Mira let Izzie walk inside ahead of her.
“Mom said you can have it repainted, and she wants to get you new linens,” Mira explained, still talking. But all Izzie could do was gape. “It’s so cute and cozy, isn’t it?”
Cozy wasn’t the right word. The room was four times the size of Izzie’s old one. The walls were a creamy yellow and the queen-size bed had a muted floral comforter on it with lots of throw pillows. There were two bedside tables, a desk, and a framed Renoir poster. Or maybe that one was a Monet. Izzie’s boxes were already stacked in the corner along with her duffel bag.
“My mom loves redecorating,” Mira told her.
The sound of static kept Izzie from having to reply. Her aunt’s voice beamed down from somewhere in the ceiling. “We’re ready for dessert!”
“Intercom,” Connor explained to Izzie. “You know, because the house is so big?”
Mira walked to a small box near the room door and pressed a button. “She’s tired, Mom. She doesn’t want to come down.”
“But it’s apple strudel! Just one small piece?” There was mumbling in the background. “And Barbara wants to say good night.” The others looked at her.
Izzie took a deep breath. How could she not go downstairs when they were rearranging their whole lives for her? “Okay.”
“She’s coming down,” Mira reported back.
Everyone was waiting for them around the kitchen island, where Izzie’s aunt was cutting small pieces of the strudel. Barbara was talking to a man Izzie didn’t know, but as soon as she approached the table, he smiled at her. He was youngish—early thirties, maybe?—with blond hair and brown eyes. He had on a navy suit and he smelled like a mix of cigars and musk.
“Isabelle, hi! I apologize for interrupting the evening,” he said, and shook her hand. “I just wanted to introduce myself. I’m Lucas Hale. I’m your uncle’s campaign manager for his upcoming bid for the U.S. Senate. I’ve heard so much about you.” He continued to pump her hand. She wasn’t sure how to pull away without looking odd. For some reason, she happened to glance at Mira. Her cousin was glaring at Lucas. “I hope we can help you settle in as quickly as possible. Over the weekend, we can introduce you to the press and—”
“Actually, we were talking before you arrived, Lucas, and we think it would be good to give Izzie a few weeks,” Barbara interrupted. “Maureen and I think it would be best to explain the situation to Izzie before she’s put in the spotlight, and now is not the right time.”
“I thought we agreed to put out a release right away so there is no confusion,” Lucas said slowly, but even Izzie could detect the annoyance in his voice. “Bill, I really think I should keep this story under control, and the best way to do that is to be the one who actually puts the story out there.”
“I agree,” Izzie’s uncle said even as he stared at his wife’s stony expression. “Sweetheart, Lucas knows what he’s doing. This is the best way for us to stay on top of things.”
Izzie’s aunt handed him a piece of strudel without looking at him. “Isabelle is starting a new school next week. Would it really hurt to sit on this story for a week or two? She needs time to settle in before the world forms an opinion about her new situation.”
Izzie looked around the table, confused, but her cousins didn’t seem surprised.
She was being introduced to the press? Why did they need to put out a press release about her, Isabelle Scott? She looked away, feeling uncomfortable, and caught Connor sneaking a cookie from the dessert tray.
“I’m with Maureen,” Barbara told the group. “As you know, I will be checking in from time to time, and I really do hope you’ll make Izzie’s well-being your top priority.”
“We will,” Izzie’s uncle said, and looked at Lucas. “This story can wait a week or two, I think. But we can finish this discussion later, either way.” Lucas nodded stiffly and waved off the piece of strudel Izzie’s aunt had offered him.
“I think that would be best,” Barbara agreed. She grabbed her bag and keys and looked at Izzie somewhat guiltily. “I should be going. I’ll check in with you tomorrow, okay?”
Izzie was still annoyed with Barbara, but the thought of the only person in this room she knew leaving made her chest hurt.
“Any questions before I go?” Barbara asked gently.
Izzie did have one. “Could someone tell me how we’re related?”
“Well, we’re… you tell her, Bill,” Izzie’s aunt said.
He looked down at his strudel before scooping a bite. “Your mom, Chloe, and I were third cousins.”
Izzie tried to piece the news together. “I thought Grams and Pops were only children.”
“Grams had cousins,” he said, and looked at Barbara. “Right?”
“If that was what was in the report,” Barbara said after a long pause, “then yes.”
This wasn’t clearing anything up. Even the Monroes and Barbara didn’t seem to know the family bloodline, and yet she was now in their care. Suddenly Izzie felt too tired to keep her head up. “I have work tomorrow, so I should probably get to bed.”
“About lifeguarding,” Lucas spoke up, “this is one thing we all agree on. While we admire your tenacity, we feel it would be best for you to find a job more local. If you even want a job. The boardwalk is sort of far from here and, well, shall we say, unsavory?”
“You work at the boardwalk?” Connor asked in awe. “Mom and Dad never take me there! Matthew in my class said they have knife fights all the time and you can watch.”
Izzie felt like the room was spinning. She was dizzy again. “I’ve never seen a knife fight, and I’ve lived by the boardwalk my whole life,” she told Connor, but she said it more for the family’s sake. “The boardwalk is totally safe and a lot of fun.”
“That may be, but we still don’t think it’s the best place for you to work now that you’re living with us,” Izzie’s uncle said gently.
She wished they would just be honest with her: The problem wasn’t the boardwalk; it was Harborside. She’d seen outsiders react this way before.
“What about my swim team?” Izzie asked, even though she already knew the answer. “I have a meet this Saturday.”
The adults looked at each other. Izzie’s aunt spoke. “I’m sorry. It’s just too far to take you to practice every day. You can try out for Emerald Prep’s swim team, though. They have an excellent team.”
“You’re going to love it,” Mira chimed in. Izzie noticed she was drinking water. A slice of strudel was nowhere near her. Suddenly Izzie wasn’t hungry, either. She pushed her strudel away.
Izzie felt like her heart would break. No lifeguarding, no community center, no surf lessons. Her mind kept going back to Brayden. When would she see him again? He hadn’t texted her back yet. Kylie had practically blown up Izzie’s phone with calls after receiving Izzie’s text, but she hadn’t had a minute to herself yet to call her back.
“We have a lifeguard job lined up for you at our country club,” her aunt said with enthusiasm. “People hardly even go in the water. I’d be surprised if you ever had to do a rescue.”
“That sounds real exciting, Mom,” Hayden joked.
But Izzie wasn’t laughing. She liked making rescues. The adrenaline was enough to keep her pumped up for days. Suddenly she felt so overwhelmed with heartache she thought she might burst into tears. She would not let herself do that in front of a group of strangers. Or Barbara. “Could I be excused?” she asked quietly.
“Of course,” her aunt said, and glanced at her husband worriedly. “This has been a long day for everyone. We’ll talk more about all this tomorrow.”
“We’re just so glad you’re here,” her uncle added.
“Thanks for having me,” Izzie said as if on autopilot. She could feel Mira watching her as she brought her untouched plate to the sink.
“Izzie, is there anything else you want the Monroes to know about you before I go?” Barbara asked.
Izzie turned around and looked at the faces staring at her. “Izzie,” she said quietly. “I prefer to be called Izzie.”
“Izzie,” Lucas repeated as if he were learning a foreign language. He held up his coffee mug in a toast. “Welcome to the Monroe family.”
Six
Every high school has a rumor mill. Emerald Prep’s just tended to be on a more extravagant scale. Three years later, people were still talking about Perry Stanton’s dad supposedly buying the headmaster a Range Rover to keep Perry on the football team. And there wasn’t a week that went by that someone didn’t bring up the rumor about an ancient pirate treasure being buried somewhere on school grounds. Mira’s favorite gossip was the one about the Underground Railroad. Supposedly, passageways under the main schoolhouse were a part of history. Mira would have given anything for that rumor to be true. It was the first day of her sophomore year and yet all she wanted to do was find a tunnel and wait for the whispers about her family to die off.
In classic style, Lucas had pressed Mira’s dad to go ahead with a press release about Izzie straightaway—even though it was obvious at dessert the other night that Barbara and her mom were flat-out against it. Lucas’s real-life fairy-tale spin had the newspapers and morning shows in a tizzy. Who wouldn’t eat up a story about a poor girl from Harborside getting taken in by a wealthy ballplayer-turned-senator and his family? Lucas looked like a kid who’d bought a candy store as he whisked Mira’s dad out of the house Saturday morning to give interviews all weekend about helping out those “less fortunate than yourself.” Everyone wanted to meet the insta-princess, but Mira’s mom—who stopped speaking to her dad when the story hit—whisked Izzie to Atlanta hoping the barrage of camera crews would disappear by the time they got back. From what Hayden told Mira, Izzie didn’t have a clue that the world now knew everything there was to know about Isabelle Scott. Her old cell phone had been shut off, and Mira heard Izzie say she was having trouble with her new phone, so she couldn’t retrieve messages.
Not that Izzie said any of this to Mira. Oh, no, even after Mira had done her best to be the sweetest hostess this side of the North Carolina state line, Izzie still barely said two words to her. She pretty much kept to herself. The whole situation was driving Mira crazy. They were turning their lives upside down for her, and Izzie could barely spend two minutes with them! Hayden told Mira she was expecting too much. (“You don’t lose your life overnight and just jump headfirst into a new one,” he said, sounding wise beyond his years.) But Mira wanted Izzie to seem grateful. Was that too much to ask?
Maybe who Mira was really mad at was her parents. It wasn’t like them to do something this rash. Dad usually talked every situation to death, whether it was switching cable providers or how he wanted his family to stand at a ribbon-cutting ceremony. But he added a new family member to the house and said zip? It was bizarre. As Mira eyed her EP classmates walking to homeroom, she wondered what they were thinking about the Monroes. Being a senator’s daughter—and Savannah’s BF—put her on everyone’s radar, and sometimes Mira still couldn’t get used to the glare. She wasn’t supposed to care what anyone thought of her, but she did, and she was dying to know what they were thinking as they walked past her at that moment. She hadn’t spoken to anyone but Taylor since the story broke and Taylor hadn’t brought it up. He was more concerned about the new football jerseys th
e team was getting. She had never been more worried about her friends’ reactions than she was at the moment.
“Over there is the Monica Holbrook Arts Center,” Hayden said to Izzie as they walked across the main quad. He had taken over the role of tour guide that morning when Mira claimed she had a headache. “You and Mira have homeroom in there this morning and second and third period.” He took Izzie’s schedule and scanned her list of classes. “Then you have to go to the Neil Hancock Science Center. You should have more than enough time. We have six minutes between classes since everything is so spread out, but the science center is right over there.” He pointed across the lush lawn, where students were catching up after a long summer.
“Six minutes,” Izzie repeated, fidgeting in her navy blazer with the yellow EP emblem. Mira’s mom had shown her how to layer her white shirt and tie, and which kneesocks to wear for school and which to save for assemblies. Thankfully, she had persuaded Izzie to remove her blue nail polish and lose her clunky, silver rings for the first day. “I really appreciate your help, Hayden,” Izzie said shyly.
“I know this place can be intense, but you’ll get the hang of it,” Hayden told her. Izzie didn’t look convinced. She had her eye on the school drop-off zone a few yards away. Several teachers and aides monitored the parade of BMWs, town cars, and Range Rovers that were dropping off uniformed students as young as sixth graders and as old as twelfth. As students passed them, Mira could hear them blabbing about their summers in Key West or about the new Gucci bag their mom had bought them as a back-to-school gift.
Mira knew Emerald Prep was intimidating. Even she had been petrified of the place when she started there in sixth grade. It was much bigger than the Catholic elementary school that Hayden and she had gone to. The buildings were huge and stately, the landscaping looked like the White House grounds, flowerbeds dotted every walkway, and gardens with fountains and quiet study areas were around every turn. EP had every sports team imaginable, and if you could think of one they didn’t have, all a parent had to do was raise a stink at a meeting and pony up some seed money, and there would be a team by nightfall. EP athletes took stretch Hummer limos instead of buses to away games. There was a zip line outside the gym, and the cafeteria served gourmet eats prepared by a former celebrity chef. When she’d started, Mira couldn’t find her way to the lunch line, let alone the bathroom. She didn’t know anyone other than Hayden, either. She must have looked like a tool. Thank God she and Savannah became friends in eighth grade, when they bonded over their shared recognition of the lower school headmistress’s tacky fake Tory Burch purse. Mira would tell Izzie all of this if she would actually turn and look at her for a moment. But she wouldn’t. Mira had the distinct impression that her cousin didn’t like her.