The Grass Is Always Greener Read online

  Izzie was startled. Zoe’s friends didn’t even know about her?

  “Sorry, sweetie. Did you say you can’t get home?” Zoe asked. “I’m not surprised. You should see the trees in your backyard. They are practically blowing sideways.”

  “I know.” Izzie looked out the window. “They’re doing that here, too. Now I can’t get home, and Dad doesn’t know I’m here.” She could see Brayden watching her. “If I don’t get home for my birthday dinner, I’ll be grounded for eternity.”

  “That’s right, it’s your birthday! I totally forgot! Happy birthday to you,” she started to sing. “Guys, it’s my niece’s birthday. Sing!” Izzie held the phone away from her ear as Zoe sang off-key. She was starting to get annoyed, and not just because Zoe didn’t remember what day it was. “Izzie? Listen, it’s going to be fine. Your dad will be a little mad, but he’ll get over it. You’ll be home tomorrow.”

  Izzie leaned against the window. It was cold and, if possible, the rain was falling even harder than it had been a few minutes before. She could hear it pounding on the roof. Her aunt wasn’t getting it, so she was just going to have to come out and ask. “Will you come get me?” She’d never heard her voice so small and she hated it. “If you leave now, I can tell them that I am at the Harborside Community Center and need to stay a little later because of the storm, but I’ll still get back for dinner and they’ll never know I was gone. Please?”

  “Hon, I have company.” Zoe didn’t sound the least bit remorseful. “I wish I could help, but I can’t just ditch everybody. Besides, even if I could leave, I do not drive well in the rain. We try not to go out in this stuff in Malibu!” She laughed again. “Remember that time I got stuck on Pacific Coast Highway? Shut up! I did not!”

  She was talking to her friend again. Didn’t Zoe realize how upset she was?

  “You be safe, okay?” Zoe was back. “And call me when you get home tomorrow. I’ll give you some pictures as a birthday gift. What? No, that’s not lame!” she said to someone else. “Have a great birthday!” Then she hung up without saying good-bye.

  Izzie stared at the phone in disbelief. Zoe wasn’t coming, and she didn’t seem at all concerned that Izzie was in a jam. How could Zoe leave her like this? Izzie dialed the bus line one more time to see if anything had changed, but of course it hadn’t. The storm was at full force. It was time to call Mira.

  Her sister picked up on the first ring. “Where are you?” she whispered. “The weather is bad and I don’t like you being on a bus. Those things tip over all the time.”

  “Well, you don’t have to worry, because I’m not on one,” Izzie said quietly. “The buses are canceled because of the storm and I can’t get home.”

  “Oh, Lord, Izzie.” The enormity of what she had done hit them both.

  Izzie felt her voice waver. “I won’t say you knew. I promise.”

  “I’m just glad you’re okay.” Izzie could hear Connor running around in the background. Mira sighed. “My mom might go easier on you, so I’ll put her on first.”

  Izzie could hear Mira’s muffled voice and then the sound of heels. She psyched herself up for what she knew would follow.

  “Isabelle?” Her aunt’s voice sounded like a warm blanket. “Wait till you taste my homemade ravioli and sauce! Hayden just tried to swipe one! Are you headed home? I was getting worried about you being out in this storm. Where are you, again? The community center?”

  “No.” Izzie was barely audible.

  “Violet’s?” Her aunt sounded confused. “I’ll come get you. I want all of you home. The weatherman said it could rain all night, and they’re worried about twisters with this storm system. This is not a day to be out.”

  That’s for sure. Izzie traced the condensation on the window. “I wish you could come get me, but I don’t think that will be possible. I’m at USC with Brayden.”

  “Oh, Isabelle.” Aunt Maureen sounded really disappointed.

  Flash floods, a strange campus, lying, and making Mira cover for her. What had she been thinking? “Now the buses aren’t running and I can’t get back.” Might as well lay it all on the line. “I was planning to be back for dinner, I swear. I just really wanted to go and… I know what a mess I’ve caused.”

  “Just breathe. We’ll sort this out.” Aunt Maureen didn’t sound so sure, though. “Let me get your dad.” It only took a second before her dad was on the line.

  “Isabelle?” His voice was tense. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. I just can’t get home.” Her voice wavered. “I’m so sorry I lied.”

  “I-95 is flooded out in several sections, and there are tons of accidents. As much as I don’t like it, the safest thing for you to do is to stay put. You hear me?”

  “Yes, sir.” Izzie’s hand was shaking. That was it?

  Aunt Maureen had picked up the other receiver. “Is Brayden with you?”

  “Yes.” He was going to blame himself, but she had done this on her own.

  “Stay put.” Her dad’s voice cut in and out. “We’ll check on you every few hours.”

  “Or call us,” her aunt added. “I’m charging my cell in case we lose power.”

  Lose power? She hadn’t even thought about that.

  “If the buses haven’t started running by morning, your father will come get you both. Just be safe,” Aunt Maureen said. “Promise?”

  They were being so nice. She knew there would be hell to pay later, but for now, they weren’t blasting her the way she thought they would. They genuinely sounded concerned. Maybe this was how parents acted. “I promise. And again, I’m really sorry.”

  “We’ll talk tomorrow. Oh, and Isabelle? Happy birthday,” he said sadly.

  Izzie felt a lump in her throat. She could picture the cozy family room and kitchen adorned with birthday decorations and her aunt’s famous sauce cooking on the stove. She’d probably baked a birthday cake, too. This was her first birthday with the family, and thanks to her selfishness, she was missing it.

  “Thanks,” Izzie choked out. She saw a crack of lightning and stepped away from the window. She wouldn’t have believed it earlier, but now she wished she had never left Emerald Cove.

  Fourteen

  Kellen picked up on the first ring. “Hello?”

  “Hey! It’s Mira.” She was so relieved he had actually answered. The past two days her calls had gone straight to voice mail. “How are you?”

  “How are you?” Kellen’s voice sounded so low on the phone. “My aunt said you guys had some wicked weather down there. She lost power for two days and we saw on the news that a tornado touched down in Raleigh. Scary. Did you guys manage okay?”

  She was walking along Main Street after school on the way to her second Selma Simmons class, which was rescheduled for a weekday because of the weather over the weekend. There was still a lot of debris from the storm, but the flowering dogwood trees along the sidewalk were unscathed. “A tree came down in our backyard, but we only lost power for a few hours, so it wasn’t so bad.”

  If you forgot about the fact that Izzie was more than a hundred miles away on her birthday and her parents were worried sick. Or that Dylan had posted pictures of what they had been up to during the storm on her public Facebook page and had tagged Izzie, which meant that everyone could see them, including Grayson Reynolds, who republished them in this morning’s paper along with an op-ed piece on her dad’s parenting. The pictures weren’t scandalous—shots of Izzie and Brayden hugging some people she’d never seen before—but the setting was: a college party with alcohol. Even Brayden got in trouble for that one. Both of them were grounded and could only go to school activities.

  But now that Mira’s conversations with Kellen were limited to the phone, there didn’t seem to be time to tell him all this. So instead she said, “We’re fine.”

  “Good,” Kellen said. “I was so worried.”

  If you were worried, then why haven’t you called? she wanted to say. Hayden said guys hated the phone, but if it’
s the only way you can talk to your girlfriend—correction: former girlfriend whom you supposedly still care about—then wouldn’t he do it?

  “So… is there a reason you called?” he asked.

  Mira stopped short on the sidewalk and a mother with a stroller had to maneuver around her. “No.” Now she needed a reason to say hi? “I guess I’ll let you go, then.”

  Kellen fumbled for an explanation. “Sorry, I’m just on my way out. They’re having a dance at school tonight, and I have to go early to set up.”

  “I thought you hated school stuff.” Mira tried not to sound accusatory, but it was true. She practically had to beg him to go to the Falling into You Fest, and when she’d originally brought up cotillion, he’d thought it sounded lame.

  “New school, new attitude, I guess. My parents think it’s a good way to fit in, and I don’t mind. I like it here already. Especially not having to wear a uniform,” Kellen added. “I’m thinking of hosting a bonfire to burn mine.”

  He didn’t seem to miss EP at all. Did that mean he didn’t miss her, either? “Send me a picture when you do,” she said.

  “I will. What are you up to?”

  “I’m on my way to that art class I told you about.”

  “Cool.” He sounded like he was on the move, too. “How’s that going?”

  The teacher hates me, so I pretty much have to fight my way through class, but I’m no quitter. “Great!”

  “Take a picture of your latest painting so I can see it.” He sounded lighter. “I should go, but I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”

  When is soon? There seemed to be more she didn’t say than things she did these days. “Okay.” She hung up. No I miss you. No I wish you were here. Nothing.

  Annoyed, she tossed the phone in her bag and vowed to leave it there the rest of the day. Last week she had missed his call, so now she kept her phone glued to her side in case he checked in. She hated being that girl. She had come so far from her phase of total boyfriend adoration (with Taylor) to having a seminormal relationship (Kellen), and now it felt like she was back to square one. She did not want to sit by the phone and wait for his calls, but somehow she couldn’t stop herself.

  “Oh, mercy, what happened now?” Charlotte cried when she saw Mira’s face. She was already at her easel putting the finishing touches on this week’s assignment, and Landon was two easels away working on his. The room smelled overwhelmingly of turpentine and paints. He looked up and smiled when he saw her, but she just scowled and threw her art bag down in disgust.

  “Aren’t you a ray of sunshine,” Landon said. “Rough day?”

  “Rough week.” Mira pulled her painting out to look it over one last time. Selma had asked them to paint a vase. It had sounded so simple that Mira and Charlotte figured there was a secret to it that she wasn’t telling. Mira had decided that instead of painting her vase a solid color, she would painstakingly draw a square pattern all over it and paint every square a different color. She had used paint that had a glasslike sheen so that every square was iridescent. She dared Selma Simmons to hate this project. She had given it her best effort. Charlotte had, too. Every detail of her Tiffany blue vase was perfect, down to the single yellow rose. “Char, that’s stunning.”

  “Really?” Charlotte looked at it from an angle. “Does the shadow work?”

  Landon offered up his own critique. “I like how you mixed up the mediums and used chalk for that element.”

  Charlotte grinned and looked at Mira conspiratorially. “Well, if you like mine, then you will love Mira’s.” Mira gave her a look. “Why don’t you two discuss it?” Charlotte got up and walked away.

  Mira’s scowl returned only briefly because seconds later she could feel Landon standing behind her. Their arms touched when he leaned forward to get even closer to her painting. “That is some pattern you have going on. That must have taken forever.”

  “It did.” She’d been working on it every night for a week. “Can I see yours?”

  Landon stepped aside, and Mira saw his work. It was a painting of a clear vase full of marbles. His art blew hers and Charlotte’s out of the water. “That looks so real! How did you do that?”

  “I took a class in photo-realism once.” The way he looked directly at her while he talked made her stomach flip-flop. “The teacher said to paint what you see, not what you want to see.” His fingers swept across his paper to prove a point. “See how distorted some of the marbles are? I did it like that so they would look like a different shape through the glass. My teacher said to focus on the colors. They need to pop.” His did. The marbles were a mix of bright yellows and greens that melted together in the jar.

  “Sounds like you had a great teacher.” Mira couldn’t help but sound envious.

  Landon pursed his lips. “If she starts with you again, try not to take it to heart.”

  Mira sort of laughed. “How? I work so hard and she crushes me.”

  Landon made a face. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but did you ever think Selma just might not like you personally?” When Mira gaped, Landon laughed deeply. “I have a hard time imagining anyone not liking you, either, but maybe this has got nothing to do with your work. She just doesn’t like you for some reason, so she takes it out on your paintings.” He shrugged. “Some people get a rise out of making others uncomfortable.”

  Mira thought about it for a moment, then cried, “How could anyone not like me?”

  “Who doesn’t like you?” Charlotte, who’d returned, gave Landon a suspicious glance.

  Landon held up his hands in surrender. “I can see I said the wrong thing. Let me explain.” He looked around, then pulled both girls toward him. Mira was so close to him that their bodies were touching. “You know your dad nixed funding for a new wing of the North Carolina Museum of Art, right? Well, Selma was a huge supporter of the project, which means you were probably right on that first day,” he translated. “She might be holding something against you because of your last name.”

  Mira blinked. Could that really be true? “How do you know that?”

  “The newspaper,” Landon said. “Don’t you have to read it for your journalism classes?”

  She didn’t take journalism.

  “I wonder why your dad said no to it,” Charlotte said.

  “He turns down proposals every day,” Mira said. “There just isn’t enough money in the state budget to do everything everyone wants. People forget that. They think when he says no, he’s being an ogre.” Mira looked at Landon. Suddenly she felt so much lighter. “Why didn’t you just tell me that earlier?”

  Landon shrugged. “I didn’t know how you’d react.”

  So it wasn’t her. It was her dad. Sure, her work wasn’t perfect, but at least now she knew why Selma’s critiques were so vicious. She couldn’t help but smile.

  “Why are you smiling?” Charlotte seemed surprised. “I’m happy if you’re happy, but I still think he owes you an apology.” She pointed to Landon, who seemed surprised. “For, you know, upsetting you before class.” Mira could practically see the matchmaking wheels turning in her friend’s head. “I’m thinking dinner would suffice.”

  Mira’s cheeks began to redden. “That’s not necessary. He was trying to help.”

  Charlotte was undeterred. “It would have helped if you knew weeks ago! No, dinner is the least he can do after keeping something like this from you.”

  Was it her imagination, or did Landon look amused? “I have my Art Equals Love class after this, but if you want to help out, we could grab something after. Least I could do is buy you a soda after causing you so much anguish.” Charlotte nodded in agreement.

  The sound of Selma Simmons’s heels echoing on the wooden floors was enough to end all conversations. The three quickly took their seats and faced forward, waiting for the teacher to start her critiques. For the first time, Mira felt calm about the impending criticism. After a short exercise—paint a pair of eyes in great detail—Selma started her interrogations. The first few
students’ works were so dreadful Selma skipped the next two rows and went straight to theirs. As she had the past two weeks, she loved Charlotte’s work, praising the shadow and the coloring on the vase. Landon, too, got a pat on the back, and the class got a lecture on photo-realism paintings. Finally she turned to Mira.

  Mira sat calmly as Selma quietly unclipped her painting and held it up to the class. “Can anyone tell me what is wrong with this vase?” Selma turned in a circle so that everyone in the front and the back could see the painting. No one raised their hand.

  “I actually like how distinct it is,” Landon said, coming to Mira’s defense already. “She really knows how to pair colors. The vase practically shines.”

  Selma took off her glasses and let them hang from the eyeglass holders, as if the strain of Mira’s awful work was too much for her. “I know I told you your work needed more definition, but you’ve taken that instruction too far,” she said to Mira. “Your vase is so busy it outshines the daffodils you put inside it.”

  Usually this would be about the time when Mira argued with her, but instead she kept quiet. Selma didn’t seem quite sure what to make of that.

  “This vase is one-dimensional, the colors are dizzying, and the shadow is completely overpowering the rest of the background,” Selma continued. “I think you should repeat this assignment.” Mira still was quiet. “Don’t you have any comments?”

  “Not right now, ma’am.” Mira was a lady, unlike Selma Simmons, apparently, and she didn’t need an audience to tell her teacher how she felt. “We can talk after class.”

  Selma glared at her. “Whatever you have to say to me, Ms. Monroe, you can say in front of the whole class. We have no secrets in here.”

  Landon gave Mira a wicked grin that seemed to say “go for it!”

  Mira took a deep breath. “While I appreciate your criticism, and I know I have a lot to learn, I no longer respect your opinion of my work.”