this is the living room,” she said, gesturing to the cobblestone fireplace and massive built-in bookshelves that covered one wall. Lights shone on several trophies and photographs, one of which looked like Izzie’s uncle with the president. Yowza.
“What grade are you in?” Hayden asked as they headed back through the foyer, past the dining room, into the first of what appeared to be two dens.
She was so busy trying to count the fireplaces she’d seen so far that she almost missed the question. “Tenth,” she said.
“Me, too!” Mira squealed. “So fun! Hayden’s in eleventh and Connor’s in first, but he won’t be in Emerald Prep till sixth grade. Do you play any sports? I play field hockey.”
Izzie ran her hand along a mahogany table. “I swim.”
“My best friend is on the swim team!” Mira gushed. “You’re going to love Savannah.”
Hayden coughed. “You’re so not.” Izzie bit her lip. She had a feeling she would like Hayden.
“Tryouts are the second week of school,” Mira continued. “What team were you on? Have you been swimming long? Because”—Mira thumbed the gold necklace around her neck and looked solemn—“our school is supercompetitive. It’s the most prestigious high school in the state. It’s tough to get into, but don’t worry, you’re already in. They didn’t name the new sports complex after my dad for nothing! Wait till you see the swim center.” Mira was talking so quickly, Izzie could barely keep up. “Our swim team has won our division the past two years. Not that you’re not good, I’m sure, but just so you know what you’re up against.” Izzie’s stomach started to churn with nervousness. Her new school sounded both incredible and horrifying.
“Don’t worry,” Hayden assured her. “You can practice here before tryouts. We have a pool in the backyard and a lap pool, too. No one uses it. Dad thought he’d take up swimming, but I guess he forgot you need time to exercise.”
“It is so cool!” Connor added. “It counts the laps and times you and everything. Sometimes I go in with a tube just to get bounced around.”
“What is your best time?” Mira pressed. “Best stroke? When did you learn how to…”
Izzie stared at the den. It was her favorite room so far. A fireplace roared underneath a flat-screen TV, and the brown leather sectional looked so inviting, Izzie wanted to go lie on it and sleep for a week. On one wall were framed photos of each of the Monroe kids. Hayden running, Connor on rocks at the beach—Mira’s garden shot could have been ripped out of Vogue . Maybe it had. Her cousin looked like she could model.
Izzie couldn’t concentrate. How did she get here? Three hours ago she’d been biking home from the boardwalk, worrying about what Barbara wanted, and now she was in a mansion that she was supposed to call home and was talking about private schools and personal lap pools. She knew she should be excited. Connor was right—a lap pool was awesome. So were mall trips for new clothes and a laptop, which she’d always wanted. But as soon as she started to get excited, she thought of Grams and Harborside and felt guilty. She was so confused. Was it okay to be amazed by this new life being dangled in front of her? Or should she feel bad?
Hayden watched Izzie carefully. “You’ve probably had a long night, huh?”
Long doesn’t begin to describe it , Izzie thought, grateful Hayden noticed. “Yeah, I’m sorry. Do you think we could cut the tour short and I could see my room? I have to crash.”
“But we still have a few rooms left to see.” Mira sounded disappointed. “And we have dessert downstairs. Paula made an apple strudel that is to die for.”
“When is the last time you tried her strudel?” Hayden asked coyly.
“It smells good,” Mira said defensively, crossing her bare arms. Several silver bracelets dangled from them.
“I’ll take a rain check,” Izzie said, looking across the great room at the
“What grade are you in?” Hayden asked as they headed back through the foyer, past the dining room, into the first of what appeared to be two dens.
She was so busy trying to count the fireplaces she’d seen so far that she almost missed the question. “Tenth,” she said.
“Me, too!” Mira squealed. “So fun! Hayden’s in eleventh and Connor’s in first, but he won’t be in Emerald Prep till sixth grade. Do you play any sports? I play field hockey.”
Izzie ran her hand along a mahogany table. “I swim.”
“My best friend is on the swim team!” Mira gushed. “You’re going to love Savannah.”
Hayden coughed. “You’re so not.” Izzie bit her lip. She had a feeling she would like Hayden.
“Tryouts are the second week of school,” Mira continued. “What team were you on? Have you been swimming long? Because”—Mira thumbed the gold necklace around her neck and looked solemn—“our school is supercompetitive. It’s the most prestigious high school in the state. It’s tough to get into, but don’t worry, you’re already in. They didn’t name the new sports complex after my dad for nothing! Wait till you see the swim center.” Mira was talking so quickly, Izzie could barely keep up. “Our swim team has won our division the past two years. Not that you’re not good, I’m sure, but just so you know what you’re up against.” Izzie’s stomach started to churn with nervousness. Her new school sounded both incredible and horrifying.
“Don’t worry,” Hayden assured her. “You can practice here before tryouts. We have a pool in the backyard and a lap pool, too. No one uses it. Dad thought he’d take up swimming, but I guess he forgot you need time to exercise.”
“It is so cool!” Connor added. “It counts the laps and times you and everything. Sometimes I go in with a tube just to get bounced around.”
“What is your best time?” Mira pressed. “Best stroke? When did you learn how to…”
Izzie stared at the den. It was her favorite room so far. A fireplace roared underneath a flat-screen TV, and the brown leather sectional looked so inviting, Izzie wanted to go lie on it and sleep for a week. On one wall were framed photos of each of the Monroe kids. Hayden running, Connor on rocks at the beach—Mira’s garden shot could have been ripped out of Vogue . Maybe it had. Her cousin looked like she could model.
Izzie couldn’t concentrate. How did she get here? Three hours ago she’d been biking home from the boardwalk, worrying about what Barbara wanted, and now she was in a mansion that she was supposed to call home and was talking about private schools and personal lap pools. She knew she should be excited. Connor was right—a lap pool was awesome. So were mall trips for new clothes and a laptop, which she’d always wanted. But as soon as she started to get excited, she thought of Grams and Harborside and felt guilty. She was so confused. Was it okay to be amazed by this new life being dangled in front of her? Or should she feel bad?
Hayden watched Izzie carefully. “You’ve probably had a long night, huh?”
Long doesn’t begin to describe it , Izzie thought, grateful Hayden noticed. “Yeah, I’m sorry. Do you think we could cut the tour short and I could see my room? I have to crash.”
“But we still have a few rooms left to see.” Mira sounded disappointed. “And we have dessert downstairs. Paula made an apple strudel that is to die for.”
“When is the last time you tried her strudel?” Hayden asked coyly.
“It smells good,” Mira said defensively, crossing her bare arms. Several silver bracelets dangled from them.
“I’ll take a rain check,” Izzie said, looking across the great room at the
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