Winter White (9 page)

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 the 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.

“I should run,” Hayden said as a bell chimed to give the ten-minute warning till homeroom. “Play nice, ladies,” he said as he straightened his navy vest and winked at Mira. “That one is more for you.” Mira stuck her tongue out at him as he jogged across the lawn. The image of Hayden’s navy-clad back against a sea of plaid would make an awesome picture. Mira sighed. She wished Hayden didn’t have homeroom in another building. Izzie didn’t seem as stiff around him.

The girls stared at each other awkwardly. “We should get going, too,” Mira said, and examined her plaid skirt for wrinkles. She adjusted her headband, pulled her paisley backpack higher on her shoulders, and scanned the crowd for Savannah or Taylor. No such luck. Emerald Prep students were from over twenty-five zip codes, and of every size, shape, and color, yet they all looked the same in their navy uniforms. Mira always liked that part of school. As much as she valued her
Vogue
subscription, there was nothing easier than slipping on the same outfit five days a week.

The two walked the rest of the way in silence and Mira felt as heavy as the art center’s double doors as she swung them open and led Izzie into the atrium. She noticed Izzie’s jaw drop slightly. The massive octagon-shaped ceiling had a Civil War battle painted on it. Mira looked down at her pricey ballet flats, avoiding eye contact with everyone on her way to class. She didn’t want to be late, and explaining who Izzie was would take a longer conversation. But she had to say
something
to Izzie, didn’t she? How come Izzie and Hayden seemed so comfortable, but when Izzie was with her, it was like pulling teeth?

“So what do you think about Emerald Prep?” Mira asked. “Incredible, huh?”

Izzie looked like a deer caught in headlights. “It’s huge.”

“Yeah, but once you know the layout, it’s easy,” Mira said as she led the way upstairs to class. “We have the first few periods together, but then you’re on your own. You can call me if you need anything, though. We’re not really supposed to use cell phones, but you can in the halls if it’s an emergency.”

“I’m sure I can find my way around,” Izzie told her, and Mira couldn’t tell if Izzie was being honest or rude. She tended to think it was the latter, which made Mira want to ditch her there and then.

“Great! Well, here we are.” Mira pushed open the home-room door and instantly the volume was louder. Savannah was nestled in a corner with Lea Price and some of their other friends. When Savannah saw Mira, she looked up and gave a little wave. Her beautiful blond hair covered the right side of her face, but her brown eyes immediately locked on Izzie. So did everyone else’s.

Time for introductions
, Mira thought with a pit in her stomach. Mira adopted her cheerleader voice again. “Hey, guys! I want you to meet my cousin, Izzie.”

“Dizzie?” Lea repeated. Lea was desperate to be in Savannah’s back pocket and was always vying for Savannah’s attention.

“No, Izzie, as in Isabelle,” Mira said patiently. “She just moved to Emerald Cove.”

“Yes, from Harborside, right?” Savannah asked, smiling sweetly as she took in Izzie from head to toe. “It’s so nice to meet you, Izzie. I’m Savannah, Mira’s best friend.”

“Hey,” Izzie said, and shifted the strap on her messenger bag closer to her chest.

“Do you like Emerald Cove so far?” Savannah asked, and twisted a ring on her middle finger around and around. “I couldn’t imagine living anywhere else.”

“How much do you like that house?” chimed in their friend Lauren Salbrook as she straightened the headband holding back her long brown hair. “I want Mira’s bathroom so bad. It has a Jacuzzi tub!”

Mira started to relax a little. Her friends were being really nice! This wasn’t going as bad as she thought it would. They probably felt sorry for Izzie after reading all the articles, Mira realized guiltily. That was the one thing she’d forgotten to be so far herself.

“And Mira’s dad is such a teddy bear,” Lea added.

“You are so lucky to be living with the Monroes,” Savannah said, and looked at Izzie’s feet. Mira’s mom had bought her the same pair of ballet flats as Mira. “Cute shoes! I have the same ones.”

“Thanks,” Izzie said, continuing her tradition of one-word answers. Mira slid into the seat next to Savannah, feeling relief wash over her, and opened her book bag to retrieve a notebook.

Izzie went to take the seat next to Mira, but Lea quickly slid her notebook over to block her. “I’m
so
sorry, but this seat is saved for Jill,” she said apologetically. “She should be here any minute.”

“Oh, okay.” Izzie grabbed her bag and turned to the desk in front of Mira.

“This seat is taken, too,” Lauren said, sticking her hand out like she was blocking traffic. “Bernadette texted me that she should be here any second.” She wrinkled her face like a prune.

Is Bernadette even in this class?
Mira wondered.

“God, you must think we’re so rude!” Savannah said to Izzie with a condescending smile. “We’ve sat in a clump like this since we started at EP. But there are still some seats nearby.” Savannah looked around, then pointed to a row near the front that the geek quotient dominated. “There’s a free one.”

Izzie’s expression changed slightly. “Thanks,” she said to Savannah. “I’ll catch up with you guys later.”

“Absolutely!” Savannah nodded. “We’ll see you after class.”

Mira’s face flushed pink as Izzie walked away. She knew what was happening. They were freezing Izzie out in the only way EP’s elite could—politely, sweetly, and by being as cunning as a fox.

“She’s cute,” Savannah said, studying Izzie closely as her brown bob swished back and forth on her walk to the front row. Mira could see Izzie making an effort to introduce herself to the gawky girl next to her. Why was Izzie so willing to do that with a stranger, but not with her?

“She is pretty,” Mira agreed.

Savannah’s head tilted as she examined Izzie further. “Highlights would do wonders for her dull brown hair, don’t you think?” she added. Mira hadn’t noticed, but she nodded. “I think it’s incredible what your parents are doing, Mira.”

“So generous,” Lea agreed, and took a sip from the water bottle on her desk.

“Especially considering where she’s from,” Savannah added, and twirled a piece of blond hair around her finger. “My mom says Harborside is the ghetto of N.C. I hope your mom locked up her jewelry. She has a gorgeous collection.”

Lauren gasped. “I didn’t even think of that. Do you think she would steal it?”

“Well”—Savannah pushed her hair behind her ears—“I’m not accusing her of anything, of course, but it’s practically a given considering where she grew up. She was raised differently than we were. Not that there is anything wrong with that,” Savannah added, looking at Mira.

“I don’t think she’s like that,” Mira said awkwardly. Mira had initially had the same fear herself. Izzie was a little standoffish, but Mira quickly realized she didn’t seem like a common criminal. Did coming from a place like Harborside automatically stamp her as one?

By the time third period ended, Mira was mentally exhausted. All morning, her friends kept Izzie at arm’s length—not that any of them would admit the banishment had to do with her being from Harborside. “I don’t want Mr. Issacs to partner us on the
Illiad
project,” one of Mira’s friends had said when she switched seats to get away from Izzie during English. “What if she thinks Homer is Homer Simpson?”

Once Izzie set off for fourth period on her own, with barely a thanks to Mira for escorting her around all morning, Mira knew she couldn’t make it another second if she didn’t get rid of the killer headache that had started when she’d arrived in homeroom. Coke might be the only thing that could get rid of it, and there was a Coke vending machine on the ground floor of the arts building. Mira decided to head straight there, whether it made her late for study hall or not. It was practically a nonissue anyway. Ms. Page had been her monitor last year, too, and she barely showed up long enough to take attendance.

She was so desperate for syrupy sweetness she practically jogged down the hall. Almost tripping over her own feet, Mira grabbed the wall to keep from falling and noticed the watercolor paintings hanging on a string across several bulletin boards. Hers was smack in the middle of the batch. She’d always loved Impressionists—her mother claimed she had to cart her away, kicking and screaming, from Monet’s
The Artist’s Garden at Vétheuil
at the National Gallery of Art when she was four. Maybe that was why she was always drawn to watercolors and dreamy, pretty pictures of flowers or the sea whenever she was asked to complete an assignment in art class. She thought everyone got As in art, which was why she was so surprised last spring when Mr. Capozo insisted on displaying her watercolor of the boathouse she had painted. Mr. Capozo said Mira had an artist’s eye. Her. A girl who rarely painted anything except her nails.