by Jen Calonita
Izzie looked at their three open faces waiting so patiently for her to answer. They care about me, she thought, and I care about them, too. She looked around the bare porch. What did she really have to lose by giving EC another shot? “Okay,” she said reluctantly. “I’ll try.”
Mira took Izzie’s hand. “Text Dad,” she told Hayden. “Tell him Izzie’s coming home.”
Izzie looked down at their intertwined fingers. “Can we do something first?” she asked tentatively. “I want you to see Harborside. Maybe it will help you get to know me better.”
Mira looked at Hayden. “To the boardwalk?” she said. Izzie nodded. “Okay,” Mira said apprehensively, not wanting to let on about how nervous going there made her, “but we can’t stay long. Mom and Dad won’t stop calling till you’re actually home.”
It only took five minutes to get to the boardwalk. Brayden knew exactly where to park, as if he’d been there a hundred times before. Within minutes, Izzie was leading them up the ramp to the boardwalk, where a light wind hit Mira in the face and she could smell the salty air. She held Hayden’s sports coat firmly around her shoulders, almost like a shield, wondering what she was in for. When she turned the corner and looked at the long stretch of well-lit arcades, pizza places, T-shirt and henna-tattoo shops, and candy joints, she inhaled sharply.
The place was packed. Even though it was close to eleven, the boardwalk was full of people, young and old, kids asleep in strollers, groups of teens huddled together laughing. No one looked like they were ready to start a fight or run off with her bag. She didn’t see large packs of menacing guys brandishing knives. It was just a boardwalk, and it looked pretty cool.
Izzie was smiling again. She led the way, talking animatedly as if she was giving a tour. “The community center is down there,” she said, pointing to an old two-story building. “It’s closed tonight because of our event, but usually they have dances on Saturday nights, and you have to beat the senior citizens to the door to get a ticket. That’s Board-walk Pizza—they supplied the garlic knots tonight. And that’s the arcade which is a five-and-dime store where we always bought hermit crabs that lasted about a week, and that’s Scoops,” she said, pointing out a brightly painted ice-cream shop that had a line out the door. “My friend Kylie has worked there forever.” She glanced at Brayden. “I practically lived there.”
Hayden whistled. “Look at that Ferris wheel!” He pointed to the amusement park on the pier. “Is that a log flume? And a wooden roller coaster?” He nudged Izzie. “I can’t believe you’ve been keeping this place to yourself.”
“I can see why you love it so much,” Mira told her, watching a few kids skateboard by with cotton candy in their hands. She felt so foolish now. This is what she and everyone at EP had been making fun of Izzie for? This is what Harborside Boardwalk was really like? Izzie was right. “Maybe we can all come back one night,” Mira suggested, still unsure about bringing her parents up by name. “Connor would love this.”
“Maybe,” Izzie said, mulling over the idea. It would be fun to take Connor to Scoops.
Hayden checked his phone. “Mom and Dad are texting me like crazy.” He looked at Izzie. “I think they’re eager to see you safely back on their doorstep.”
“Are you ready?” Brayden asked, and Izzie felt him slip his warm hand in hers and squeeze. She felt tingles all over, but she tried not to let on. She didn’t want to think about what the gesture meant. She had still never given Brayden an answer. There were too many other things to think about.
Izzie took a deep breath. “I’m ready.”
It wasn’t going to be easy going back there, but she had to give it a shot. She took a final look around the boardwalk, taking in the lights and the sounds, and remembering some of her best memories there. Brayden was in nearly all of them. She could do this. She could be part of both worlds and make it work. She had to.
“Okay,” Izzie said finally, gazing at Mira’s smiling face the longest. “Let’s go home.”
Acknowledgments
Belles is truly a story about what it means to be a family, and I don’t know where I’d be without my own.
Cindy Eagan and Kate Sullivan are not only amazing editors, but they’re also excellent sounding boards, and this series could not have jumped from a jumbled mix of ideas scribbled on a pad to a published book without their excellent guidance and suggestions. Kate may have her own fancy office down the hall now, but she was never too busy to come back to Belles to offer the insight that only she can give. I’m forever grateful to her for that, as I am to my wonderful new editor, Pam Gruber, who is the genius who came up with the title to this very series and the girls’ names. Everyone at Poppy and Little, Brown Books for Young Readers has taken Belles under its wings, and I owe so much to my übertalented longtime designer, Tracy Shaw, as well as Ames O’Neill, Andrew Smith, Lisa Ickowicz, Christine Ma, Jodie Lowe, and so many others.
I’m indebted to my agent, Laura Dail, who is always at the ready to talk me off the ledge and offer guidance, and to Tamar Rydzinski, who is on top of everything I do.
Christie Greff (aka the all-grown-up flower girl from my wedding) is the one who explained the differences between a heat and a medley and how competitive swimming works. Barbara Massina taught me what a social worker’s role is and how a delicate situation like Izzie’s would be handled.
Sometimes you can feel quite alone when you’re sitting in your office, typing away, which is why I’m so grateful to be able to bounce ideas around (and, um, sometimes share a few moments of panic) with Mara Reinstein, Sara Shepard, tour buddy extraordinaire Elizabeth Eulberg, Sarah Mylnowski, Kieran Scott, and the girls in the amazing Beach Bag Book Club, including Larissa Simonovski, Jess Tymecki, Kelly Rechsteiner, and Pat Gleiberman.
And, of course, to my mom and dad, who always go over and beyond to help me make my deadlines, and my family, Mike, Tyler, and Dylan, for giving me everything I need from home and more.
The secret is out, but the drama is far from over.
Isabelle Scott and Mirabelle Monroe are still reeling from the knowledge that they’re not cousins after all—they’re sisters. But with cotillion season right around the corner, the girls barely have time to process the news. Mira has been dreaming of making her debut in a gorgeous white gown forever—if only she could find an escort. Izzie, meanwhile, is still struggling to fit into Emerald Cove society, and when troublemaking former debutante Dylan rolls into town, Izzie thinks she’s finally found someone she can relate to. As cotillion preparations heat up, though, there are dance steps to learn, manners to perfect… and secret initiations to complete? As if sophomore year wasn’t hard enough!
Turn the page for a sneak peek at Winter White, the second book in Jen Calonita’s Belles series, coming in October 2012.
100% CASHMERE. Mira stared at the sweater tag in her hand and smiled. Just the words 100% cashmere were enough to put her in a good mood.
The pale pink sweater with a ballet-scoop neckline was so soft that she could have slept on it. Prepsters, Emerald Cove’s popular high-end clothing boutique (so named for girls like her who went to Emerald Prep and could afford three-hundred-dollar riding boots) must have just gotten a shipment because the cashmere sweater was available in every size and color. The only decision Mira had to make now was pink or taupe. She was going to try on both along with a pair of those new jeans she saw on the table at the front of the store. While she was here, she might as well look for some casual dresses, too, to wear to a few of her dad’s fund-raisers she was dreading. There was so much to choose from at Prepsters, she wished she could stay all day.
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.
