Winter White (11 page)

After she congratulated Mimi and the team, said hi to some friends at the center, and assured Callista she was fine getting back to EC on her own by bus, Izzie headed onto the boardwalk with Kylie to breathe in the cool, salty sea air. Kylie had suggested they head to Harborside Pizza to get some lunch, and they walked part of the way in silence, just taking in the beauty of the desolate beach. Izzie was thankful for the quiet. She couldn’t stop thinking about Bill and why he had been at the community center that morning. Why had he looked so angry? And why hadn’t he told anyone—not even Callista—that he was going? Everything about his visit gave her a bad vibe.

“I’m not sure I can stomach pizza today,” Izzie said as they turned off the boardwalk and neared Harborside Pizza.
A gust of wind, always stronger by the water, blew her slightly sideways, and she buttoned up her navy peacoat to keep warm. The weather was so different down here from just a few days ago.

Kylie grimaced and held her stomach. “I can’t say the idea of melted cheese and the pool chlorine still burning my nostrils is a good mix, either. We can eat somewhere else if you want, but we’ve got to go to Harborside Pizza first. We’re meeting someone.”

“Who?” Izzie wasn’t so sure she wanted company. If Kylie had invited Molly and Pete, the afternoon was definitely going to be weird. Things hadn’t been the same among all of them since Izzie moved.

Kylie’s dark eyes looked devious with the addition of the black liner she was into these days, but her face was one huge grin. “Take a look for yourself.” She motioned to someone walking down the block.

“Hey, girls,” Dylan said with a smile as she strut toward them, looking like she belonged on a catwalk. A catwalk for Harley-Davidson clothing, that is. Her upper body was buried in a weathered leather bomber jacket that she had paired with skinny jeans and worn knee-length brown boots. Her honey-colored hair sprayed around the wool collar of her jacket like she was in a windstorm, which they kind of were. Certain blocks bordering the boardwalk were wind tunnels.

“Dylan hung out with my brother last night, and when I
told her you and I were hanging out today, she asked to come along,” Kylie explained. “Do you mind?”

“Not at all.” Izzie had been hoping to run into Dylan ever since they met at Scoops, but she hadn’t seen her around EC, and Brayden never talked about her. Izzie had a feeling Dylan Townsend knew all of EC’s secrets, and she couldn’t help wondering what some of them were.

The smell of pizza dough wafted out of Harborside Pizza, and Dylan wrinkled her nose. “If I eat another slice, I’m going to turn into a pizza. Can we go someplace else?”

“We were thinking the same thing,” Kylie said. “What do you have in mind?”

Dylan grinned. “How about that place we went to with Charlie right before I left for school?”

“Yes!” Kylie said, and looked at Izzie. “I actually hadn’t even heard of it till Dylan took me, but you’re going to love it.”

“Love where?” Izzie slipped her hands into her pockets to keep warm. She looked at Dylan. “Are you telling me you know someplace I don’t when I’m the one who has lived in Harborside for the past fifteen years?”

“Lived—past tense,” Dylan corrected her. “And that doesn’t mean you know all the cool haunts.” Dylan linked arms with Izzie and steered her and Kylie down the street. “So where have you been hiding?” Dylan asked.

“Um, school?” Izzie said as if it should be obvious.

Dylan laughed. “Oh, right, the hallowed halls of Emerald
Prep,” she mocked sarcastically. “I’m glad I don’t have to worry about school till January. I can just chill down here with Kylie and the gang.” She pushed a slouchy black leather bag with braided rope straps higher on her shoulder. Izzie had always wanted one just like it.

“So that would explain why I haven’t seen you around EC,” Izzie said.

“If I stand still for more than ten minutes, my mom signs me up for things like the Emerald Cove Greeters’ movie mixer,” Dylan said. “No, thanks.”

“A movie mixer?” Kylie repeated the words as if they were in a foreign language. “What the heck is that?”

“Be happy you’ve never had to go to one,” Izzie told her. “Aunt Maureen dragged me to one my first week there. Before the movie, you hang out in the lobby and have crab dip and lobster rolls.”

Dylan grinned. “Welcome to EC.”

She led the girls onto the main drag for a few blocks like a true townie. Then she turned onto a narrow side street that Izzie didn’t recognize before pulling them into a restaurant called Pit Stop. Izzie had never heard of it, and she was pretty sure why. The place had old tables, plastic backyard chairs, and red-and-white gingham tablecloths, but it was packed with college kids. No one even seemed to care that there was a huge line for a table. Leave it to an outsider-turned-insider like Dylan to find this place.

“Isn’t this great?” Kylie yelled in Izzie’s ear over the hard rock music blasting. “Dylan knows the owner.”

A cute guy in a messy apron walked up to them at the back of the line. Izzie read the writing on his apron:
Our place is a
Pit,
but you won’t be able to
Stop
coming once you try it
. “Hey, beautiful,” he said to Dylan. “Bring some new friends with you?”

“Kylie knows the deliciousness that is this greasy dive, but Izzie is a Pit Stop virgin,” Dylan said. “Tragic. A former local who has never had your chili lime burger.”

His brown eyes opened wide. “We’ve got to fix that. Girls, ditch this line and follow me.” He led them through the crowd to a bar area that was, in fact, not a bar. It overlooked the tiny kitchen, which had smoke billowing out from the open flame grill. “Three chili lime burgers with garlic fries coming up.”

“You rock, John Boy,” Dylan said, getting herself situated on the high swivel stool. She looked at Izzie. “Cool, right? Do I deliver, or do I deliver?”

“It smells amazing,” Izzie said, looking around as she parked herself on a high stool next to Kylie, who was practically salivating, and not over the food. The place was filled with cute guys just Kylie’s type. “How did you find this place?”

“It’s right across the street from the place where I got one of my tattoos,” Dylan said, and flipped over her wrist to reveal tiny Chinese symbols. “Do you have a tat yet?”

Kylie laughed. “Iz has a fear of needles.”

“No, I don’t,” Izzie said. She’d gaven Grams’s insulin shots daily when they lived together. She just couldn’t imagine getting a tattoo herself. “I haven’t found one I like enough to live with permanently.”

It was a good thing Izzie had quick reflexes, because a guy behind the counter shot three plates toward them, and Izzie caught hers before it slid off the counter. The burger on the plate was massive, as was the mound of fries.

“I think your next cotillion dare involves permanent ink.” Dylan watched Izzie’s reaction. “Kidding!”

Izzie exhaled. “How did you know I was doing cotillion, anyway?” Izzie asked, not waiting to take a huge bite. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was. The juice oozed out of the side of the burger onto her hands.

Dylan gave her a look similar to one Mira might. “I know everything that goes on in that town, including initiations.”

“You know about the initiation, too?” Izzie said in surprise, dropping a fry.

Dylan grabbed it and dipped it in ketchup. “Of course. I’m surprised you let yourself get roped into that charade.”

“I know you want to fit in and all,” Kylie agreed between bites, “but the last thing I expected you to agree to is going to some old-school ball where the girls have to wear wedding gowns. That does not sound like you at all.”

“It’s not, but it means a lot to my aunt,” Izzie explained.
“She was a deb, her mom was a deb, and Mira didn’t want to do it alone. It is killing me, though. Cotillion is
so
not my thing.” She looked at Dylan curiously. “You must’ve had to make your debut. How did you survive?”

Dylan laughed. “I fought my mother tooth and nail for years—till I found out about the hazing. That part is
awesome
because everybody—from the self-professed queen bee to the lowest on the totem pole—has to participate if they want to keep their reputation intact. Initiation is a common denominator.”

That was her favorite part about cotillion, too, actually. Izzie was glad someone else saw it her way.

Besides,” Dylan raised her perfectly arched right eyebrow, “when you get to dress up like Lady Gaga and interrupt the precious Cardinals’ football game, how can you not have a little fun?”

Wow, she really did know everything about EC. “How did you know about that?”

“Gaga?” Kylie repeated. She looked at Izzie. “You’ve been holding out on me.”

Dylan grabbed her phone out of her pocket and quickly pulled up a photo from that afternoon. Izzie smiled as Kylie laughed so hard, Diet Coke came out of her nose. Izzie quickly filled her friend in on the dare.

“Brilliant, no?” Dylan asked Kylie. “And who do you think came up with the Gaga worshipfulness?” She leaned
back in her seat and put her hands behind her head. Izzie gaped. “Yep, I’m not just home to torture my mother. I’m part of the initiation group. Who else could come up with something as diabolical as a Gaga sing-along?”

Izzie was amazed. “Thanks for not painting my face red.”

Dylan’s blue eyes gleamed. “You’re welcome. I had to save the devil face paint for my favorite Southern belle. Or should I say, my mother’s favorite. That girl deserved a little payback for the way I’ve heard she’s treated you.”

Izzie couldn’t help being impressed. Dylan was coolness personified. She took risks, she didn’t seem to let anyone or anything get to her, and she had everyone’s number. The fact that she had grown up in Emerald Cove and hadn’t let it swallow her whole made her even more appealing.

“Initiation is the whole reason to do cotillion,” Dylan said. “My mom and her friends can’t stop it, because they only vaguely know what’s going on—and none of them wants to be the one to admit their daughter is taking part in it, either. Initiation lets you take a nice jab at EC and its whole backward system.” She took another bite. “That’s why I’m helping out. Besides, if you do a good-enough job, you might make cotillion captain in a few years, and that is the gravy on the biscuit. So I hear.”

“Can I apply for cotillion captain so I can kick Savannah’s butt?” Kylie asked.

Dylan grinned mischievously. “Sorry, Ky. Only EC debs
may apply for that gig. The captain gets to make the awful ones pay and let the good ones have a little fun.” She patted Kylie’s hand. “Don’t worry about Savannah. I’ll see to it that she’s covered.”

Dylan gets it
, Izzie couldn’t help thinking to herself.
She thinks the same way I do
. And when she looked at cotillion the way Dylan did, making her debut didn’t sound so bad. In fact, it might actually be fun. The hazing seemed like just the right amount of approved rebellion she needed to survive a town like Emerald Cove.

“So? Think you’ll stick with it?” Dylan asked.

The garlic and the salt from the fries left a bittersweet taste in Izzie’s mouth. “Yeah,” she said, thinking while she chewed. “I think I will.”

Dylan smiled and took another bite of her burger. “Just what I was hoping you’d say.” Her cell phone interrupted them, and Dylan’s cheerful demeanor quickly dampened. She answered her phone. “What do you want, Mother?” she said coldly. “I don’t have to check in every hour. I’m eighteen.” Dylan rolled her eyes at Izzie and Kylie. “I’ll be home when I’m home.” Pause. “What does it matter who I’m with?” Her face broke into a smile. “My friend Kylie. No, you don’t know her. She lives in Harborside. Yes,
that
Harborside. You know, that dangerous town on the water where gangs roam?” Dylan high-fived Kylie. Then she caught Izzie’s eye, “I’m with Brayden’s new girlfriend, Izzie Scott.”

Izzie didn’t think her face could get any hotter, but it did.

“Yep, the other Monroe girl.
Girlfriend.
That’s what I said.” She winked at Izzie. “I don’t know, Mother. Maybe he doesn’t want you to know. I wouldn’t.” Izzie started to sweat. She thought she could actually hear Brayden’s supposedly reserved mother yelling. “Bye,” Dylan said sweetly, and hung up. “That woman,” she said to Izzie and Kylie as she tossed her phone in her oversize bag, “should not have been allowed to have children.”

“You and your mom really don’t get along, do you?” Izzie asked quietly.

“Not. At. All. Do you get along with your dad?” Dylan was blunt. “I hear he’s a pretty decent guy—when he’s not denying long-lost children.”

Izzie was a little surprised at Dylan’s candor, but she didn’t let on. “We’re not talking right now, but eventually I’ll have to forgive him, I guess.”

“Are you sure you want to after what you saw this morning?” Kylie asked, referring to Bill’s mysterious appearance at the center. Izzie didn’t answer her.

“I don’t forgive and forget easily,” Dylan told them. “My mother lied to me one too many times, and I’ve completely written her off.” Dylan looked pensive. “Do yourself a favor—stay as far away from my house and my parents as you can. They will sprinkle you with Splenda and eat you for breakfast.”

Izzie’s stomach churned, like it wanted to get rid of the half a pound of burger she’d just eaten. “I don’t think that will be a problem. Brayden and I aren’t going out.”

“Please!” Kylie rolled her eyes. “Surfer boy is
so
into you!” Izzie blushed.

“Kylie’s right. My brother likes you.” Dylan pushed the fries around her plate like she had lost her appetite. “It’s totally obvious even if he won’t tell me himself.”

“Why don’t you guys get along?” Izzie was curious. Dylan seemed like a fun sister to have.

“I adore my brother, but we don’t see eye to eye on EC,” Dylan said cryptically.

“Really? Brayden hates how superficial it is,” Izzie said. “He says it all the time.”

“He avoided EC like the plague this summer,” Kylie added.

Dylan shook her head. “You guys don’t get it. My brother says he wants to be different from our parents. Not so hung up on appearances or concerned about privilege. But if that’s true, then why does he go along with everything they say?” Her blue-green eyes seemed to darken. “He’s still playing football, going to their ridiculous charity events. If he hates their world so much, why doesn’t he accept me for being my own person?” She took a sip of Coke. “Brayden’s rebellion is a phase. Mine is a way of life.”