“You guys have your own farm?” Izzie was incredulous. Her new school got stranger and stranger by the minute.
“We have a garden, too.” Brayden picked up Izzie’s book bag, which she had dropped at her feet. He slung it over his shoulder along with his own, and she didn’t protest. It felt kind of nice having him hold her stuff. “They use the milk, lettuce, et cetera, in the cafeteria. EP is all about being ecofriendly.”
“This I’ve got to see,” she said, and then they walked for what felt like miles, past all the buildings, past the soccer field and the Bill Monroe Sports Complex, and over a hill where there was the nicest barn Izzie had ever seen. It looked like it had been ripped out of a catalog—it was a large, new building with oak floors, big windows that overlooked a pond, and a massive, high ceiling with exposed rafters. The cows were munching happily on hay in a corner, but the bulk of the space was empty, as if the rest of the animals had found better lodging. She wondered where that would be. The barn looked as five-star as a cow could get.
“Can I help you?” a man asked. He didn’t look like a farmer. He was wearing the male EP teacher standard—dress shirt, dress pants, and oxfords. He did have on an apron, though.
“Hi, my name is Brayden Townsend, and this is my friend Izzie Scott, and we were wondering if we could book this place for a school function,” Brayden said so effortlessly that Izzie was jealous.
“Mark Baker. I oversee the farm.” He frowned. “I didn’t think EP held events in places like this.”
Brayden nudged her to jump in, but she was afraid of screwing things up like she had the other day on Main Street. Act friendly, be truthful, talk fast, she told herself. “They do now,” she said with a smile. “The Social Butterflies are raising money to redo a community center, and our first event is a hoedown. What better place to have a hoedown than in an actual barn?”
“I like hoedowns,” Mark said. “Used to have them all the time when I was a kid.” He cocked his head. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen one in this town, though.”
“This will be the first,” Brayden told him. “We need the space for a Saturday night, so we’d have to find someplace to put the cows on Friday so we can clean it out and then we could have the place back to you on Sunday.”
Izzie tried not to focus on the word we. Did that mean he was going to help her with all this? He had so far. What would she do without him?
Izzie tried not to laugh. “The event is still under wraps,” Izzie added, “so we just ask that you don’t mention it to anyone till the invitations go out.” She was going to keep this location a secret till the last second. Anything to keep Savannah from stealing it away.
“Well”—Mark still looked skeptical—“I guess it wouldn’t be too much of an inconvenience to let you use the place. You did say it was for a good cause.”
“A great cause,” Izzie assured him.
“Okay, we have a deal,” he said, and before Izzie knew it, he had signed an official contract.
Brayden and Izzie were still staring at the contract as they sat across from each other at Corky’s hours later. Izzie wanted to pinch herself she was so excited. She was booking things on her own (with Brayden’s help), and being an honorary Monroe or a Harborside refugee had nothing to do with it.
“What are you thinking about?” Brayden asked her after they had ordered.
“I was just thinking about how we’re going to get people from the school gates to the barn,” Izzie said. She was trying not to look around too much. Corky’s still made her feel uncomfortable. Seeing her classmates in regular clothes was more intimidating than their uniforms. Designer bags hung off every girl’s arm, they all had on the same must-have jeans Mira wore; and each girl was prettier than the next. “What do you think of getting someone to donate horse-drawn carriage rides for an extra fee?” she asked Brayden. “Obviously if they don’t want to pay, we can get a school Hummer to take them up there, but I bet some of the parents would go for something exclusive like that.”
Brayden laughed. “Look at you, speaking the EP language!” Izzie must have looked confused because he repeated her words. “Extra fee and exclusive. They live for that around here. I think you’re getting the hang of being a Butterfly.” He winked at her. “I think you may even like it.”
A waitress placed a platter of potato skins in front of them. “I don’t know about that,” she said as she pulled a gooey one off the plate. Laughter from the football team’s table floated over. They were having a fry-eating contest and had drawn a huge crowd. “Why don’t you hang out with the team more?” Izzie asked quietly. She’d seen him play and she knew he was good. The Monroes had gone to the first football game of the season the previous weekend. It had felt like the whole town was there. Football was like a religion in Emerald Cove. “Everyone likes you,” she added. “That’s obvious.”
Brayden shrugged. “I guess I never fed into the football God complex. Some of these guys”—he looked over at Ryan, whose jaw was so packed with fries he looked like he might explode—“think playing for the team means they can treat everyone else as throwaways. Even their girlfriends.” He shrugged. “I never wanted to be like that. After high school, I’m hanging up my helmet and applying to a school in California where I can surf in peace.”
Izzie wagged a fork at him. “I’m going to hold you to that. If you start getting an ego, I will whip your sorry butt.”
He smiled. “Is that a threat or a promise? Because I think you really could whip my butt.”
“You know I can!” She took a sip of her milk shake, which had just arrived. “Both in the water and on dry land.” Just the thought of her fake beating up Brayden made her laugh.
Brayden started to laugh, too, and a piece of potato skin flew out of his mouth. His face reddened, which only made Izzie laugh harder. That’s when her milk shake started to fly out of her nose. The two of them laughed so hard a waitress actually skated over to ask if they were okay.
Brayden stopped laughing and looked serious. “Iz, I think I have feelings for you.”
He said it, just like that. And that made Izzie stop laughing. She thought her heart might pop out of her chest, it was beating so fast. She grabbed a napkin from one of the dorky record-shaped holders and wiped her nose. “What?” she said, as if she didn’t hear him, but she had.
“I said, I think I have feelings for you.” Brayden’s blue-green eyes were boring into her skull. “I think I’ve known that for a while and didn’t want to admit it to myself. I know it’s complicated, but I can’t pretend I don’t want to be with you.”
“Brayden, don’t do this.” She stared at the half-eaten potato skin on her plate. “Savannah…”
“Savannah and I don’t belong together anymore,” he insisted. “I’ve thought that ever since I met you. Savannah and I are so different, but you and I aren’t.”
Izzie wavered back and forth. She did not want to be the cause of Savannah and Brayden’s breakup. She could not add to the list of reasons Mira already disliked her. But if Brayden wasn’t with Savannah… could they actually be together? As she thought about what to say to him, she saw Lea and Lauren. If their eyes were lasers, Izzie would have melted like the nacho platter at the table across from her. Lea actually mouthed “You’re dead” before storming off somewhere. Whatever foolish dream Izzie had just imagined disappeared in thin air.
She was kidding herself again. People at EP would never accept Brayden and her as a couple, especially if it came on the heels of a Brayden-and-Savannah breakup. Savannah would exile Brayden the same way she did Izzie. She looked into his heartbreakingly cute face and made a decision. She wouldn’t let him feel like the outcast she did every hour of every day. He didn’t deserve that.
“We’re great friends, but that’s all,” she said, even though the words killed her.
Brayden looked at her searchingly and Izzie tried to tune out the mushy song in the background. It only made her want to cry. “If things were different, do you t
hink we could be more than friends?” he pressed.
She dug her nails into her knees. “No. You and Savannah work well together. You come from the same world, and I don’t,” she said flatly. “Real life isn’t Cinderella or Pretty in Pink.”
Brayden’s face crumbled. “What’s that got to do with—”
“You belong with her,” Izzie cut him off, and started to get up. She couldn’t look at him. Not when she hurt this much. “I didn’t grow up with this life. It’s not me and it never will be.”
Brayden tried to stop her. “Iz,” he started to say, and that’s when he looked up.
Izzie stopped cold. Savannah, Mira, Lea, and Lauren were standing in front of their table, forming a blockade. Mira’s brow was furrowed anxiously and Savannah looked angrier than Izzie had ever seen her.
“You,” she hissed at Izzie. “Go. Now.”
And without another word or a glance at Brayden, she did exactly as she was told.
Twenty-One
“Name?” asked the man guarding the door to the Shore Harbor ballroom. Loud music was thumping behind the double doors and she could barely hear his question.
“Mirabelle Monroe,” she said, peering at his long list as she stood on her tippy toes in clear heels. He found her name at the top of the second page and checked her off. “Escorted by Taylor Covington?” he asked, glancing at the empty spot next to her where her date should have been.
“I’m flying solo tonight,” she said, trying to sound breezy.
The man smiled thinly and motioned to someone in a headset, who opened the doors. A bare-chested bodybuilder in a turban and billowy pants gestured for Mira to join him. “Welcome to Savannah Ingram’s Arabian Nights Sweet Sixteen,” he said in a deep voice.
Mira had been to the Shore Harbor’s ballroom before—almost all the five-star weddings in town were held at the boutique hotel—but she barely recognized it now. Multi-colored scarves draped across the ceiling gave the room the illusion of being in a giant tent. Persian rugs and hundreds of throw pillows were scattered on the floor, and the dance area was occupied by half a dozen belly dancers. If that wasn’t enough of a spectacle, there were also fire breathers, jugglers, a henna tattoo booth, and a palm reader tent, which already had a long line.
Mira walked over to the welcome table and looked at the tiny flying carpets that had everyone’s table numbers written on them. Hers said table three, which was odd because she could have sworn Savannah said they were sitting at table two. Most of the cards had already been taken, including Taylor’s. Hayden had declined the invitation and gone to the movies with Izzie, but Mira wondered if Millie would be there. She’d overheard Izzie telling Hayden how Millie wouldn’t show her face at swim practice. Izzie predicted she was going to quit the team over the necklace incident, which stunk because Millie was really good.
Mira placed a Tiffany box on the gift table, which was overflowing with gift bags and large boxes. Savannah always said the best presents came in small boxes, which is why Mira got her a sterling silver leaf pendant and chain. Mira hoped the gift would help smooth things over. Savannah had been out of school on Friday, probably to a spa, and Mira hadn’t talked to her since their fight. She had sent Savannah a picture of her wearing the dress that afternoon with the text Can’t wait to party! but didn’t hear back.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I ask that you take your seats or move to the side of the room,” said the DJ, who was dressed like an Arabian guard, “as we present to you your Arabian princess and sweet-sixteen hostess, Savannah Ingram!” The room erupted in applause as the ballroom doors opened and Savannah was carried in on what looked like a magic carpet by four hot Arabian guards. Savannah’s belly-baring two-piece teal dress looked like it had been lifted from Disney’s Aladdin and her blond hair was pulled back with a giant jewel-studded headband. She grinned and waved as her carpet was paraded by, but Mira didn’t know if Savannah actually saw her. She decided to meet her at their table.
“There has to be some mistake,” Mira said to herself when she found table three. It was occupied by Savannah’s cousins, and they were all Connor’s age. “I’m supposed to be seated with Savannah,” she said to a passing waiter, who watched in disgust as the kids used their forks and knives as swords.
“The princess is over there,” he told her. Savannah had just been handed off to Brayden. He was dressed the part of Aladdin in a ridiculous long white jacket with gold lapels, baggy white pants, and a big white turban with a purple feather. He looks sort of miserable, Mira thought. But they must have made up since the other night because seconds later, Brayden led Savannah to the dance floor for their first dance, which was to “A Whole New World.”
Mira giggled, waving off a belly dancer who offered her a shot glass full of mac and cheese. Izzie would hate this, she thought as an Arabian guard walked by with a snake wrapped around his shoulders. Mira wouldn’t turn sixteen till the spring. She made a vow right then not to do anything this excessive. Izzie might be right. Sometimes less was more.
As the chorus of “A Whole New World” finished up, Mira made her way to Savannah’s table to straighten out the seating snafu. She stopped short when she caught sight of Lea and Lauren. “What are you wearing?”
Savannah had thought of every detail for her party, including what she wanted her best friends to wear. She’d picked out purple clingy gowns with sheer sleeves for Mira, Lea, and Lauren so they’d look like Savannah’s harem girls. But now her friends had on different dresses. Slinky royal-blue dresses that were a lot prettier than the dress Mira was stuck wearing. The kicker: Millie was wearing the exact same dress as Lauren and Lea! Mira touched her beaded headpiece self-consciously. The girls didn’t have that on, either. Something was wrong.
“Didn’t you get my text? I changed my mind about the outfits,” Savannah said, walking up behind Mira. She grabbed a stuffed grape leaf from a passing waiter and popped it in her mouth. “I was thinking about it yesterday and I decided I don’t like purple anymore. It’s kind of a traitorous color, don’t you think?”
Mira was too taken aback to answer her.
“I picked these blue dresses for my best girls instead,” Savannah said, gesturing to the others. “Doesn’t Millie look cute?”
Millie was a bestie now? Just last week Savannah had tried to frame her! Mira shifted awkwardly in her stupid clear heels. She hated them, but Savannah had insisted Mira wear them. The other girls had on designer peep-toe heels, which were much cuter. It didn’t take a genius to see what was going on. Savannah was getting back at her for what had happened at Corky’s. As if Brayden’s actions were Mira’s fault! Savannah didn’t seem to be frying him for it. “Vanna, can I talk to you?”
Savannah smiled at her apologetically as the DJ announced belly-dancing lessons on the dance floor. “I wish I could, but we’ve got belly-dancing lessons.” She looked at the others. “Come on, girls! Brayden? I need a refill! A seltzer with lime, okay, sweetie?”
Brayden mumbled something under his breath as he grabbed Savannah’s glass and then removed his giant turban. His brown hair was matted down and sweaty from the headdress.
As Lea filed past her, she glanced at the table card still in Mira’s hand. “How’s your table?” she asked. “We had to move you to accommodate Millie. She’s Taylor’s date. She doesn’t mind being a trophy wife.”
Mira froze. Savannah had obviously told their friends what she had said about Taylor.
Lea nodded to where Taylor was standing a few feet away. “That would have been majorly awkward if we were all at the same table, wouldn’t it?”
Mira was starting to feel a little queasy. This was crazy! She had to prove to Savannah that she didn’t have anything to do with Brayden and Izzie hanging out. They’d been best friends too long to let a fight get this messy.
“Hey, Mira,” Taylor said, walking over to her. He was wearing a black suit and a skinny reddish-pink tie. He looked ready for an espionage mission, or maybe a cologne ad. “You look… nice
.”
“I look ridiculous.” She shrugged. She wasn’t sure how to act in front of him. They’d only been broken up for forty-eight hours and already he had a date. She, on the other hand, had only missed him once, when she’d thought about coming alone tonight. “Blame it on the party girl.”
He nodded. “Same goes for my date.” They looked at the dance floor, where Millie was doing her best to impress Savannah with major arm movements. She waved to Taylor. “Savannah set us up,” Taylor said sheepishly. “She thinks Millie’s perfect for me.”
Taylor performed best when he was with a crowd, Mira realized. That was what Mira had fallen for in the first place—the guy who was the life of the party. He wanted a girlfriend who looked pretty, was happy to cheer him on at games, and kept her mouth shut. For a while, Mira was happy to do that, but now she wanted more. She deserved a relationship that was more filling than candy. Maybe Millie was good for Taylor, but even if she was perfect, Mira’s best friend shouldn’t have hooked up her ex with a new girl so soon.
“Will you excuse me?” she said to Taylor. “I need to speak to Savannah.” Mira walked into the middle of the girls’ dance lesson and stood in front of Savannah. With their coordinated outfits, the girls looked like a pop group.
“Leaving so soon?” Savannah drawled, playing with her chunky gold necklace.
“No, I need to talk to you,” Mira told her. She wouldn’t take no for an answer.
“We can talk over here,” Savannah told her, and led Mira to a corner full of oversize floor pillows. “We were just about to play your favorite game.”
“Savannah, I need to tell you what happened,” Mira said.
“Games first,” Savannah scolded, plopping down and stretching out her long legs. “You can go first.” Savannah’s harem filled in around her.
Mira wasn’t thrilled about an audience. “This is important. We should talk in private.”
“No,” Savannah said, getting comfortable and propping up some pillows. “Whatever you have to say, you can say in front of the girls. But first you have to play. Truth or dare?”