Winter White

by Jen Calonita

  Shopping really was retail therapy. Maybe that was why Mira had been doing so much of it in the last few weeks. When her dad apologized to the family for the first time, Mira ran out afterward and bought expensive white flip-flops with interchangeable bands. When her mom cried over a blog that said she was crazy for standing by her dad, Mira bought luxurious lavender 900-thread-count sheets for her bed. And when Savannah, her friends, and pretty much the whole tenth grade blacklisted her, Mira bought her and Izzie matching sterling-silver evil eye rings so she would have something to look at in class when her former friends were talking about her.

  Today’s TV interview with Waa-Waa Wendy had shot Mira’s nerves so badly that she headed to Prepsters in search of new sweaters. It was getting colder—well, cold for North Carolina—and she needed something to warm her up, especially now that she was single and didn’t have a boyfriend’s arms to wrap around her.

  Not that she was that upset about the boyfriend part. Taylor Covington, EP’s own version of the Ken doll, had been nice to look at, but he wasn’t really boyfriend material. Mira knew she was better off without him; she just wished she had a few more shoulders to cry on. But Savannah had taken those away, too. Losing friends had definitely turned out to be worse than losing a boyfriend.

  Mira piled a few pairs of jeans on top of the cashmere sweaters she was carrying and headed to the fitting room. She made it only a few feet when she spotted a wine-colored sweater dress with a turtleneck collar that would look adorable with her new riding boots. She stopped to check it out, and that’s when she heard talking.

  “Sarah Collins, daughter of Myra and Peter Collins, was escorted by Todd Selzner, at the White Ball in Birmingham, Alabama….”

  Hearing the voice made Mira freeze with her hand on the dress tag.

  “Miss Collins is a proud cotillion participant who hopes to someday study special education at her mother’s alma mater, Ole Miss.”

  “What does she look like? Stop hogging the magazine, Lea!”

  “Would you two stop? Give it to me. I paid for it. Which one is she? Oh, her. Talk about bad lighting. She looks like she should play a vamp on The Vampire Diaries.” The others laughed. “What a waste of a gorgeous gown. See what I mean, girls? My mother is right. One bad photographer can ruin your whole cotillion.”

  Cotillion! How could Mira have forgotten about her favorite tradition in Emerald Cove? Making her formal debut into society was something she had dreamed about since she was in pre-K. She’d spent the last three years preparing for the sophomore girl tradition—taking etiquette classes, going to Saturday morning dance lessons, and doing approved Junior League charity work—and somehow she had let all this drama with her dad make her completely forget the most important event of the year!

  “It says here Sarah Collins made her debut with forty-five girls. That’s not a debut; that’s a cattle call. Maybe that explains why half these girls look like cows.” The girls’ laughter increased, and so did the snorting.

  Mira prayed they couldn’t see her behind the rack of sweater dresses. When she peeked through the rack, she saw exactly what she’d suspected. Savannah, her former best friend, and her two—make that three—sidekicks, Lea Price, Lauren Salbrook, and their protégé, Millie Lennon, were huddled around the latest issue of Town & Country, reading the magazine’s debutante announcements. It’s something Mira had done with Savannah many times before. She used to love picking up the latest issue, getting iced coffee, going for pedicures, and then ripping apart each girl’s announcement sentence by sentence. It wasn’t till Izzie showed up that Mira realized words, however nicely said, could still cut so deep that they made people bleed.

  “Miss, can I help you find something?”

  Mira looked up. Dang. A saleswoman had spotted her. She could only imagine how this looked. She was crouched down, her right hand clutching a dress like a towel and her left arm holding the cashmere sweaters and now-crumpled jeans. The saleswoman did not look pleased.

  Mira shook her head, hoping that would be enough to send the woman away. If she opened her mouth, Savannah might realize she was there.

  “Should I put that dress in a fitting room for you?” The woman attempted to pry the wrinkled dress from Mira’s hands, but she wouldn’t let go. “Or wrap it up?”

  That would work. “Yes,” Mira whispered, and reached into her bag for her credit card. “Wrap it. Please. Quickly. I, uh, have a doctor’s appointment to get to.”

  The woman glanced at the name on the credit card, and her expression changed. “Are you Senator Monroe’s daughter?” she asked, her voice going up an octave. “You look just like your father!”

  This was Mira’s cue to get out of there. She left the dress on the counter and snatched her credit card back before the saleswoman had the chance to react. “I’ll come back for this later,” she said, and headed for the exit. She’d made it to the accessories table when Savannah and the other girls stepped into the aisle and blocked her path. They looked like the fashion mafia in their color-coordinated designer outfits.

  “Hi, Mira,” Savannah said pleasantly, looking like she had just come from a modeling shoot. Her long pale blond hair was as glossy as ever, held back in a plaid headband, and she had on the same fitted navy sweater as the mannequin behind her that always modeled Prepsters’ latest must-have outfit. Savannah gave Mira a brief once-over. “What are you doing here?” she asked with a thick drawl. “I hear you were on TV. The Wendy Wallington Show is so”—she hesitated, trying to find the right word to make Mira flinch—“quaint. I don’t think anyone outside the state even sees that show.”

  “Probably not.” Mira glanced helplessly at the door feet away.

  Savannah smiled. “I haven’t seen the show because I was at school, but my mom said you managed okay.”

  Savannah was like a python. Mira had learned to watch her closely because she was never quite sure when she would strike. Even her compliments were venomous. Mira ignored the comment and looked at the others. “Hi, guys.” The girls responded by glancing at their shoes or the items on the accessories table. Millie seemed particularly interested in a thick headband that was clearly last season.

  “You’re not here alone, are you?” Savannah’s eyes widened innocently. She knew the answer without Mira even saying it. Who would Mira hang out with? Savannah had claimed all their mutual friends after their nasty friendship breakup, and she’d probably destroy any girl stupid enough to befriend Mira now.

  “I was just leaving,” Mira said.

  Savannah and the others didn’t move out of her way. “I never understood how anyone could go clothes shopping alone,” Savannah said, leaning on Lea. “I could not make a single decision on dresses for cotillion events without backup. You are still going to do cotillion, aren’t you?”

  “Of course,” Mira said, feeling drained. “Why wouldn’t I?”

  “Oh, I… never mind.” Savannah broke into another one of her patented plastic smiles. “I’m glad you’re still going. We’ll see you at cotillion rush events, then.”

  “When does that start?” Lea asked, her voice anxious.

  “I don’t know for sure,” Savannah stressed as if she had a clue. She always acted in the know even when she wasn’t. “I heard Mary Beth Pearson might be running it.”

  “Your cousin?” Lauren asked. “Lucky you! She’ll give you the easiest tasks.”

  Cotillion pledging. Rush. Debutante initiation. Whatever you wanted to call it, Mira had forgotten about this secret tradition, too. While the Junior League didn’t approve of it, or even acknowledge its existence, over the years it had become customary for former debs to put the current cotillion class through a series of sometimes funny, sometimes mortifying games to prove their worthiness like they were a college sorority pledge class. No one knew who ran the rush till the games ended, but participating was pretty much mandatory. Those who didn’t do it were socially blacklisted for the rest of the year, and no one at Emerald Prep wanted that.

/>   “You guys have nothing to worry about.” Savannah pushed her bangs out of her eyes. “If it’s Mary Beth, and I bet it is, she’ll take care of you guys.” She glanced at Mira. “She knows who my friends are.”

  If Mira needed proof that she was no longer in Savannah’s inner circle, that was it. Savannah made her feel worse about herself. Weren’t friends supposed to do the opposite? The school’s reigning queen was never going to forgive her. Mira had chosen Izzie over Savannah, and Izzie had won Brayden, which left Savannah out in the cold. And she did not do the deep freeze well. She liked to cause hell rather than be in it.

  “But enough about cotillion,” Savannah said, stepping closer to Mira with an expression of deep concern. “How are you doing? I would be mortified if I had to go on TV and talk about my dad having a kid he never told us about. Not that my dad would ever do such a thing,” she added just as quickly. Lauren tried to hold in a snicker.

  “I’m fine.” Mira tried not to sound testy. She was glad she had changed out of the outfit she wore on Wendy’s show and into her fitted green tunic and capri leggings. She felt like her go-to outfit gave her superstrength, which she needed right then.

  “Are you sure?” Savannah frowned, and the wrinkles that formed around her mouth almost screamed in protest. “You look pale, and you have bags under your eyes, but that’s nothing that a little under-eye cream can’t fix.” Savannah rooted around in her enormous designer bag and pulled out an equally expensive eye cream. “This is my mom’s. She has horrible bags, too, so this should help.” Lea smirked, while Millie looked mildly mortified. She was new to Savannah’s group, so she was still learning how cutting Savannah could be.

  Mira noticed the saleswoman watching the girls’ exchange with interest. The pile of clothes Mira had left were still in the woman’s arms. Mira took the clothes from her. “I changed my mind,” she said, and dumped the sweaters, jeans, and dress on the counter. “I’m going to take everything.” She deserved some new clothes for putting up with Savannah. “I am in a rush, though, so if you could ring me up, that would be great.”

  “Where are you off to? Another tabloid interview?” Lauren asked with an evil glint in her eye.

  “God, no.” Mira tried to smile. “Teen Vogue called this morning and offered Izzie and me a fashion layout in the magazine.” Savannah’s eyes widened, so she kept going. “They want to know the real story, not the silly rumors people are spreading.”

  “Teen Vogue?” Savannah repeated slowly, almost tripping over her own words.

  Mira nodded. Was it her imagination or did Savannah look jealous? “I am meeting our publicist to discuss whether we’re going to take it.” She looked at Lea’s surprised expression and laughed to herself. “I mean, who knew Justine and Teen Vogue would be fighting over us? We might do People, too.” She made a mental note to call Callista later and persuade her to get them in a magazine. Any magazine!

  “Wow, you do sound busy,” Savannah said, pushing the cheer back into her voice. “So busy that you probably don’t even miss having a boyfriend like Taylor. Did you hear Taylor officially asked Millie out?”

  “He gave me this.” Millie thrust her arm at Mira, showing off a thin silver bracelet with a dangling starfish. Taylor had given her one just like it when they started dating. “Savannah helped him pick it out.” Savannah’s smug smile returned.

  Mira had to hand it to Savannah. She knew how to twist the knife. For a moment, Mira thought the boyfriend talk and the bracelet would make her crumble. Instead, she quickly recovered. “Cute, Millie! I’m surprised Savannah helped him pick that one, though.” She frowned. “The one Taylor got me tarnished quickly.” Millie paled, making Mira feel slightly bad, but she couldn’t back down now.

  The saleswoman handed Mira the credit-card slip, and Mira turned away from the girls to sign. “Speaking of jewelry, I’ve been meaning to buy myself something nice to wear for all these magazine interviews. I just have to find the time. My publicist said Teen Vogue needs days for an interview and photo shoot. They even want me to paint a picture for them to put in the story. Can you believe it?”

  “No, I can’t,” Savannah said without thinking. When Mira turned around again, she noticed Savannah’s posture was stiff as a board.

  Mira collected her bags and walked past her. “See you at school!”

  Savannah looked jealous! Mira thought with glee as she hurried down Main Street toward Corky’s before Savannah could retaliate. She couldn’t stop replaying their conversation in her head. The look on Savannah’s face when she mentioned Teen Vogue, Millie’s reaction to what she said about Taylor’s bracelet… those moments were priceless! Her friends had made her feel as worthless as a cockroach the past few weeks, but now she felt like she could take on the world. Who needs those girls, anyway?

  You do, a small voice inside her head said. Maybe you don’t need Savannah, but you do need some friends, the voice reminded her. Mira’s run slowed to a crawl. Since their big fight, she hadn’t had anyone to talk to or hang out with. She shopped alone, avoided parties, and spent most of her nonschool hours in her room. That wouldn’t do.

  She and Izzie had made strides in the friendship department, but Izzie still wasn’t someone who would go for manicures or sit with her and gush over a picture of Taylor Lautner’s abs in Us Weekly. She missed doing that stuff. How are you going to survive cotillion without friends or a date? the voice taunted. Your debut is going to be ruined.

  By the time she made it to Corky’s, the popular fifties-style diner practically all of Emerald Prep hung out at, the high she’d been on from taking Savannah down a peg had disappeared. When she slid into an empty booth and looked over the menu, even the famous sweet-potato fries didn’t look appealing. She had no desire to sing along with the popular song blasting from the jukebox. She held the menu in front of her face and tried not to feel sorry for herself. The menu was quickly pulled from her hands.

  Kellen slid into the opposite side of the booth with a grin. “Hiding from me?”

  Normally, the sight of the way-cute eleventh grader who had persuaded her to take a chance on her artwork would have made her feel light-headed. His sandy blond hair, green eyes, and toned physique (thanks to cross-country and track) gave Mira plenty to stare at during sculpting class. She had been looking forward to seeing him all day, but now… She was afraid if she opened her mouth, a sob might escape.

  Kellen frowned. “Oh, man, I know that look. My little sister gets it when my mom threatens to turn off Dora the Explorer if she doesn’t finish her breakfast. Is it your dad?” he asked. She shook her head. “Your mom?” Another head shake. “Izzie?” Third one. His right eyebrow arched slightly. “Maybe you should just tell me what happened.”

  Mira spilled the story quickly as if she had been holding it in forever. “I ran into Savannah and my friends at Prepsters. Correction: my ex-friends. And they were all ‘Oh cotillion is coming—how are you going to survive?’ I played it really well, I think, but Savannah’s right. I can’t show my face at cotillion without them. I’ll never survive rush on my own!” She was starting to get hysterical. “You can’t do a scavenger hunt without a team, and I have a terrible singing voice! There is no way I’m singing Beyoncé in front of the cafeteria without backup.” Kellen’s mouth began to twitch. “It’s not funny.”

  Kellen pretended to be serious. “Nope. Not at all.”

  His expression made her laugh a little. “I know I sound a little insane—”

  “A little?” His green eyes were playful. She still wasn’t used to seeing him out of a school uniform. His look was definitely casual. T-shirts whose brand she couldn’t make out and cargo pants. Today, he had upgraded his ensemble to include a short-sleeve plaid shirt that was unbuttoned over a navy T. It was working for him.

  “I’m not crazy.” Mira pouted. “I just miss having people to hang out with.”

  “Hello?” He waved a hand in front of her face. “Person hanging out with you.”

  “I k
now. It’s just…” Kellen didn’t get it. Boys never did. Girl friendships were different. She and Kellen had a lot to talk about, but their relationship was clouded by the fact that Mira had recently realized she had a major crush on him. “You’ve been great. I don’t know what I would have done in the last few weeks without you.”

  Kellen looked at the neon wall clock across the restaurant. “What are friends for?”

  Friends. Did he mean to emphasize the word, or was she imagining it? Boys were so hard to read. She decided to make light of it. “Friends are good at ordering fries and milk shakes.” Mira tapped the menu.

  “Glad to see you still have an appetite.” Kellen waved over a waitress and ordered some cheese fries and two chocolate milk shakes. Afterward, he looked at her quizzically again. “So, cotillion? Really?”

  “Yes, really!” she said, indignantly. “Every girl at EP who is anyone does cotillion. It’s like a rite of passage.”

  “Is that what it says in the brochure?” Kellen asked, and Mira glared at him. “I’m sorry. Scholarship students don’t do cotillion. It sounds old-fashioned to me.”

  Mira tried not to look as insulted as she felt. “Cotillion is an honor. People think it is just about making your debut in this amazing dress and going to all these dances that lead up to the big night, but…”

  “There is more than one dance?” Kellen looked horrified.

  “It’s fun!” Mira insisted. “It may sound strange to you, but we take etiquette and dance classes to get ready for our debut, and I’ve learned a lot in them.”

  Kellen laughed. “Cotillion classes? Mira, you’re joking, right?”

  “No!” Mira twirled a saltshaker to avoid seeing Kellen’s incredulous reaction. “It’s not just dance class. The Junior League runs these workshops that teach you how important it is to give back to your community, how to find an internship and network.” Okay, maybe she did sound like a cotillion brochure.