Winter White

by Jen Calonita

  “It was good of you to try to come up with some ideas, Izzie, but none of these seem worth our time,” Savannah said. “I think, and I’m sure Mira would agree, that we just do what we always do—pick up this discussion after cotillion and Founders Day.”

  “But,” Mira tried to speak up, “Izzie has so many great…”

  “Agreed?” Savannah held up her hand to vote. Most of the room followed suit. “Wonderful. See you next week, girls!” She hurried out with her minions behind her.

  The others were back to discussing everything from who still didn’t have a gown for cotillion to the ever-persistent rumors that lingered from last cotillion, in which Leann Ryder wore a custom Stella McCartney dress that supposedly cost $35,000.

  Izzie slammed her notebook shut in frustration. It didn’t make much of a sound since it was just paper, but Mrs. Fitz seemed to get the meaning. So did Mira, who lingered in the background.

  “I’m sorry, Isabelle.” Mrs. Fitz took a seat next to her. She removed her costume jewelry earrings as if they were weighing her head down. “I’m sure you don’t think too highly of me for how I ran that meeting.”

  Izzie didn’t say anything. Even she knew you didn’t bash a teacher to the teacher.

  “Getting the girls excited about events is an uphill battle I have every year, and it only seems to get worse the closer I get to my retirement.” She paused. “Or maybe I get more frustrated the closer I get to retirement. I know this isn’t the way our club should run, but it’s hard to argue with our cochair when her parents are the biggest boosters Emerald Prep has, aside from your dad, of course.”

  The irony wasn’t lost on Izzie, but this fact only made her angrier. The idea that Savannah could ruin her personal life and school activities was infuriating. “Isn’t there anything we can do?”

  “I wish there was.” Mrs. Fitz smiled at Izzie. “If it is any consolation, I thought your ideas were excellent. Emerald Cove is lucky to have you.”

  Izzie laughed. “That’s the first time anyone has said that.”

  “Well, it’s true.” Apparently she wasn’t joking. “Since you came to town, our club has flourished. Your fall festival is the best event we’ve ever had. Even the headmaster said so.”

  Izzie’s eyes widened. “For real?”

  Mrs. Fitz started packing up her things. “Yes. I can see now why you are doing cotillion.”

  That seemed like a strange leap. “Why is that?”

  “You’re a natural at community service, and it shows in every idea you have,” Mrs. Fitz told her. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you that before?”

  Her aunt had said something similar to Izzie when she had received her cotillion invitation, but Izzie had just assumed Aunt Maureen said that to get her to do cotillion. Maybe she was blending into Emerald Cove better than she’d thought. Brayden or no Brayden, Mrs. Townsend’s approval or not, she might just have a real place here.

  Mrs. Fitz seemed sadder than someone should who was paying compliments. “I only wish you had been here last spring. If you had run for the Butterflies chair, I have a feeling we would be doing a lot more than we are now,” Mrs. Fitz said, unaware that Mira was still in the room. “Well, you’re only a sophomore. There is always next year.”

  But we aren’t even halfway through this one, Izzie thought. There is so much they could tackle if Mrs. Fitz would stand up to Savannah and the others. But she knew their teacher wouldn’t. Mrs. Fitz didn’t want to push community service on them. She wanted them to want to do it themselves.

  Izzie grabbed her notebook and met Mira at the door. “Ready to go?” Kylie had persuaded her sister to let her borrow her car, and she was driving into town to take them to Corky’s. Izzie wasn’t in the mood to go anymore, but Kylie was already on her way.

  “I’ll meet you there,” Mira said, acting odd. “I forgot I have to go over our fund-raising numbers to give them to the editor at the Weekly Emerald Prep.”

  Izzie didn’t argue. She was at the driveway in the main part of campus within minutes. The afternoon had turned gray, and a light mist had started to fall. She perked up when she saw Kylie waiting, her sister’s prized Charger chugging loudly and sending plumes of black smoke into the air. She ran to the other side of the car and opened the door. That’s when she heard someone call her name. Hayden was running across the quad.

  “I give it ten minutes before the sky opens up,” he said, running over. “We ended practice early, but I can’t reach Mom and I saw you walking.” He glanced at the car.

  “Hayden, you remember my best friend, Kylie, right?” Izzie asked. “I think I introduced you two at the fall dance.”

  “Was that before or after Mr. Senator admitted he was your dad?” Kylie asked.

  “Um… before?” Hayden looked at the car. “Is this a 1971 Dodge Charger?”

  “Yeah.” Kylie’s head popped out the window. “You know cars?”

  “I wouldn’t say it was a Charger if I didn’t know.” Hayden picked at the peeling paint. “Is this the original color?”

  “Top-banana,” he and Kylie said at the same time. Izzie’s stomach was growling. She just wanted to get in the car, already.

  “I take it you know a thing or two about cars, too,” Hayden said to Kylie.

  “Maybe.” Kylie studied him, and the car backfired a hello. “I know this one.”

  “Me, too,” Hayden ran his hand along the hood. “Our dad has a mint 1971 Hemi Charger.”

  Kylie glared at Izzie, who said, “I didn’t know what the car was. I don’t speak car.”

  Kylie turned to Hayden. “I have got to see that car.”

  “Anytime,” he said. “Dad only takes it out if it is just the right temperature and weather, so it spends most of its time in the garage. Sad, really.”

  “If it’s as mint as you say it is, I don’t blame him.” Kylie looked at Izzie. “Is he coming with us to Corky’s?”

  “He can if he wants.” Kylie normally didn’t like new people, so Izzie was surprised to hear her ask. “Mira is meeting us there.”

  Hayden studied Kylie. “I’m in. I would suggest testing this baby’s four-twenty-five horsepower on the way, but we’d get a ticket on the way into town.”

  Kylie liked that idea. “Let’s take it on the highway first! It’s only a little backtracking.” She looked at Izzie excitedly. “You’re not that hungry, are you?”

  Izzie held her stomach. “Well…”

  “Great!” Kylie started the engine. “Iz, can he ride shotgun?”

  “Fine.” Kylie held up the front passenger seat so Izzie could slide in the back while Hayden went around to the other side. Izzie fell into the leather seats that had seen better days and closed her eyes. Maybe if she slept while they rambled on about cars, when she woke up, they’d finally be at Corky’s.

  Seventeen

  Mira stepped away from her easel and tried to judge her latest work the way China Chow from the Work of Art reality show would.

  If she had time to start over—which she didn’t—there were a few things she would have done differently. The restaurant window could have used more shading. The family at the table was too scrunched together. She had used too heavy of a brushstroke on their faces. And then there was the image of herself staring through the window at the family—did she draw enough emotion on her own face? Mira could have criticized her decisions all day, but she knew she had to put down her paintbrush. She had been working on her self-portrait ever since seeking refuge in the studio after the Butterflies meeting heard round the world. The week hadn’t gotten any easier, and Mira was exhausted.

  She sat down in a chair in front of the easel. The room was eerily quiet, but Mira liked it that way. She was not one of those painters who could rock out while they worked. She liked silence so she could hear her own thoughts, and her thoughts today were on Kellen and what he’d think of her work. His opinion was the only one that mattered to her, and he was going to be there any second. They had agreed to meet at the art st
udio at school for their own private unveiling.

  “Sleeping on the job?” Kellen walked in with his canvas tube slung over his shoulder. While Mira preferred to paint on canvases already mounted, Kellen liked to work with a piece of canvas that he could stretch and frame later—if the painting was worthy.

  “I am throwing in the paintbrush.” Mira stood up to greet him. Just the sight of him gave her goose bumps. “If I don’t stop painting now, I’ll never stop. I’ll keep adding details till I ruin the whole thing.”

  Kellen poked his head around her easel. “Can I see it?”

  Mira blocked the canvas. “No! We have to do it at the same time and make a drumroll.” She rolled the sound off her tongue. “Don’t you think that would be fun?”

  Kellen shook his head and smiled. “You’re a bit much with the fanfare, but okay.” He popped the top off his tube and used clips to pin his canvas to the easel. Mira tried not to peek as he turned his easel to face hers. They both stood in front of their work. “Ready?” He made a drumroll noise with his tongue, and Mira did the same. Then they both stepped over to the other’s easel.

  Mira was at a loss for words. Kellen’s self-portrait was so realistic that it looked like a photograph. The artsy modern twist told her otherwise. Kellen saw himself as Two-Face, that character in Batman. The left side of his picture was decidedly Kellen at Emerald Prep: his hair neatly combed, his navy blazer pressed, his red tie knotted to perfection, his smile faint. He was the friendliest guy she knew, even if he wasn’t the most outgoing. That burst of energy was saved for the Kellen she was beginning to know, the one who appeared on the right side of the portrait. This Kellen wore a paint-splattered T with the Big Brothers Big Sisters logo on it (he mentored a boy Connor’s age) and lacrosse shorts, and had slightly messy hair. There was paint under his nails and a running insignia painted on his wrist. His smile was much bigger and, if possible, his right eye brighter.

  Mira stared harder. “Is the right side of your face wider?”

  Kellen stood so close, he grazed her shoulder. “I can’t believe you caught that.” He reached over her to point something out with his hand. “It’s slight, so I don’t look cartoonish, but I wanted to show the side of me I prefer—not scholarship boy, the real me.”

  His work was amazing. “If you don’t win, I might have to boycott Sup, and that would be a shame because their Oreo cheesecake was out of this world.”

  “Get used to the cheesecake famine, then, because you are the one who is going to win.” Kellen put both hands on her shoulders and turned her around. “And you said you couldn’t paint close-ups. Liar.”

  “I’m not lying.” Mira was keenly aware that Kellen still had his hands on her shoulders. “This is the first time I’ve ever done one.”

  “You should do it more often then. You nailed it.”

  The painting was full of raw emotion. She had used the image of the family in the restaurant that she had spied on in New York and turned it into a scene with her own family. She painted herself staring through a restaurant window as her family happily sat inside and drank hot cocoa without her. She was trying to say that she wished she could be part of that family again and she feared she never would be. She painted each of her family members in agonizing detail. Her dad was at the center, laughing at something Hayden and Connor said. Izzie had a serene smile on her face, like she had finally found where she belonged. Mira’s mom’s frown lines she had earned since the campaign began were erased. If someone wasn’t looking closely, they might miss the ghostly girl sitting next to her family. It was a mirror image of Mira outside the window, but this one was relaxed and happy. She had drawn her to represent the girl she used to be before her world was flipped upside down.

  “What do you think this painting is about?” Mira asked.

  “It’s you now and then,” Kellen said. “It’s brilliant.”

  “What if people think the girl at the table is a ghost? I don’t want them to think I’m dead. I’m just trying to say the old me is gone, and the new me is confused about what happened to my family. That’s why I’m on one side of the glass, and they’re on the other.” Maybe she was getting too deep. “I’m not making sense.”

  “You’re making total sense.” Kellen looked at her carefully. “But I hate to think you believe your life is over.”

  “I don’t always think that.” She looked down. Their bodies were practically touching. “Sometimes I’m happy.” Like now, she thought.

  When Mira looked up, their eyes locked. Neither of them looked away. She was acutely aware of the wall clock ticking above their heads, and she kept thinking the longer they stood there, the less chance they’d pull away. Then he leaned down and kissed her. Their arms slowly wound around each other, her hands making their way to his hair, which she’d wanted to run her fingers through forever. The moment was better than she’d imagined, but the kisses were almost desperate, like they’d both waited too long to do this, and she found Hayden in her head. Was she rushing things with Kellen? If she got together with him now, would she fall into the same relationship she had with Taylor? And didn’t Kellen say he didn’t want to be a rebound?

  “Wait,” she mumbled through their kisses, feeling the panic choke-hold her. She pulled away and tried to catch her breath. Their noses were still touching, which made it doubly hard to concentrate on what she wanted to say.

  “Maybe this is happening too fast,” she said, hating the words even as she said them.

  He looked at her. “I thought you wanted this.”

  “I do!” she said. She knew she was being confusing, but she had to figure out who that girl looking through the window was first. She looked into his green eyes searchingly. “Can you give me time?”

  Kellen played with one of her curls. “You are very confusing, Mirabelle Monroe. But okay.” She exhaled. He was still staring at her intently. “Under one condition: You let me be your escort for cotillion.”

  “Seriously?” Mira squeaked, and before she knew it, she was throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him again.

  She had a date for cotillion! First a dress, and now an escort! Things were looking up.

  When they finally tore themselves apart, Kellen held on to her waist. “So this is your definition of taking some time?”

  She laughed. “That was a thank-you kiss. It’s different.”

  Kellen leaned forward, his face lowering to hers. “Then I want a thank-you kiss for your thank-you kiss.” She obliged. They still hadn’t untangled themselves when Hayden walked in a few seconds later.

  “My eyes!” Hayden startled them, and they quickly let go and stepped away from each other. “Dude, that’s my baby sister you’re pawing there.”

  “Hayden,” Mira whispered, her cheeks flushing hotly.

  “What?” Hayden dropped his gym bag and walked over. He had changed into his running clothes. The season was over, but some of the guys still ran the indoor track to keep in shape. “I’m playing the role of protective older brother. Sue me.” He shook Kellen’s hand. “We’re cool, as long as you finally asked her to cotillion.”

  “Hayden!” This was getting embarrassing.

  “You wanted him to ask you, didn’t you?” Hayden teased. “Isn’t that why we all had to fly to New York only to have you sequester yourself from the family for the whole weekend so you could paint? She found a dress, by the way,” he told Kellen.

  “Thanks, Hayden,” she said through gritted teeth. “We’re going to cotillion together, so you can drop it.”

  “Well, technically, I asked to be your escort,” Kellen said with a sly smile. “You didn’t actually accept.” He glanced innocently at Hayden. “I need a formal acceptance to escort her, right?”

  “Definitely.” Hayden kept a straight face. The two of them stared at her, waiting to see her blush.

  She wanted to kill them both. “Kellen,” she said in her most proper voice, “I accept your invitation.”

  “Oh, all right,” Kellen
said, his mouth twitching. “Since you agreed so graciously.”

  Hayden applauded. “Now that that’s settled, I’m supposed to get you home for dinner—if you’re actually eating with us tonight.”

  “I’m thinking about it,” she said. “I’ve just got to clean my brushes first.”

  Hayden didn’t hear her. Instead, he was walking toward Mira’s easel. “Did you paint this?” he asked before she had a chance to jump in front of the painting. “This is good.” His eyes widened. “Is that us? And is that you? Did you die or something?”

  “See?” she complained to Kellen. “It looks like I’m a ghost.”

  “It doesn’t.” Kellen turned to Hayden to explain. “That is the ghost of Mira past and the girl outside is Mira present.”

  Hayden didn’t look convinced. “Has Mom or Dad seen this yet?”

  “No.” Mira removed the canvas from the easel. She placed it in her large art bag. “And they’re not going to. I was going to enter it in a contest, but I know I can’t. This painting would cause a lot of problems. Dad has enough as it is.”

  Kellen understood. He watched the news. “You would have won, you know.”

  “Maybe,” Mira said wistfully. “It would have been nice to go up against you.”

  “I’ll beat you next time.” He winked. “At least now I have a shot this month. They don’t publicize the prize money, but the winner gets five hundred bucks.”

  “Seriously?” Hayden asked.

  Kellen nodded. “I don’t joke about money.”

  Mira didn’t say anything. She knew Kellen’s family wasn’t poor, but he had mentioned money being tight now and again. The last thing she wanted him to worry about was buying her a Christmas gift, if that’s what he was thinking.

  “We should finish cleaning up,” she said to change the subject. She picked up a crumpled piece of newspaper and noticed the name Monroe. She smoothed it out. Her dad’s face stared back at her from the cover of the North Carolina Gazette. It was a paparazzi-style photo of him holding his hand up to the camera. He never did that.