necktie. Today he wanted her approval, and Mira couldn’t let him down. She never had before. She sighed. “I think what you’re doing is amazing.”
“We’re all doing it,” he said, and squeezed Mira’s hand. “We’ll make her feel welcome, and before you know it, it will feel like she’s always been a Monroe.”
“You never told us her name,” Mira realized.
“It’s Isabelle,” her dad said, and smiled softly. “Isabelle Scott. She spells her name the same way we spell yours,” her dad added.
Her mother nodded approvingly. “So pretty that way.”
“It sounds like your name!” Connor exclaimed to Mira.
“It does, doesn’t it?” Mira said thoughtfully, unsure of how she felt about the similarity. She wasn’t sure what she thought about any of this, really, and she didn’t have a lot of time to sort her feelings out. Whether Mira liked it or not, Isabelle Scott was on her way.
Five
Barbara’s car pulled away from 22 Hancock Street at the same time the Coastal Assisted Living van pulled out of the driveway with Grams tucked inside. Izzie watched the house disappear into the distance. She had a feeling this would be the last time she’d ever see it.
Barbara didn’t push her to make conversation in the car. She’d worked overtime trying to do that while Izzie had packed. Didn’t Barbara know how upset Izzie was? The last thing she wanted to do was make light conversation with her social worker while she tried to pack up her life in half an hour. She grabbed her first swim team medal and the framed picture of her and her mom at the shore the summer before she died. She tucked the frame between her Michael Jackson tee and her Harborside Beach Lifeguard jacket to keep it from breaking. The lavender paisley comforter Grams had bought her but Izzie never really liked would “accidentally” be left behind, along with the collection of dusty Beanie Babies Grams never wanted her to throw away (“You spent your allowance on those!”).
Izzie knew Barbara was just trying to do her job by loitering nearby while Izzie filled the large duffel bag to the brim, but her job didn’t give her the big picture. Izzie may have hated the lily wallpaper (which was why she’d covered it in black-and-white beach photos), and she wouldn’t miss the green garage-sale desk where she did her homework, but this was still her room, and had been her whole life. She couldn’t imagine loving anywhere as much as she did 22 Hancock Street. She liked how smooth the worn wooden banister felt on her hand as she hurried down the stairs (late for school—again) and how the sunlight hit the antique glass window in the foyer. She’d even miss the crooked front porch with its leaning porch swing.
She’d never again bike over to the Associate to buy a Powerade. She wouldn’t ride up to the boardwalk and feel the wind on her face. She didn’t know the next time she’d see her friends, the community center, or the swim team. Maybe there was a way she could still come back and compete. And she could probably take the bus to the boardwalk, right? Izzie didn’t know the Monroes, but they’d probably appreciate her earning her keep. If she kept lifeguarding, she could still see Brayden, and picturing Brayden’s face was the only thing giving her a calm exterior. Inside, she was freaking out. She quickly sent a text to him and Kylie so they’d know where she was.
IZZIE’S CELL: Don’t freak out. IM OK, but had 2 leave town & won’t B back anytime soon. Grams going into nursing home. Social taking me 2 new digs. Not sure what will happen, but will explain all when I resurface. Miss U guys already. xoxo Iz
Was the “miss you” part too much to write to Brayden? Izzie didn’t have time to debate it. She hit Send as Barbara turned onto Harborside’s main drag. She pressed her face against the window and watched the storefronts she knew so well scroll by. When they passed the community center, Izzie felt a pang
“We’re all doing it,” he said, and squeezed Mira’s hand. “We’ll make her feel welcome, and before you know it, it will feel like she’s always been a Monroe.”
“You never told us her name,” Mira realized.
“It’s Isabelle,” her dad said, and smiled softly. “Isabelle Scott. She spells her name the same way we spell yours,” her dad added.
Her mother nodded approvingly. “So pretty that way.”
“It sounds like your name!” Connor exclaimed to Mira.
“It does, doesn’t it?” Mira said thoughtfully, unsure of how she felt about the similarity. She wasn’t sure what she thought about any of this, really, and she didn’t have a lot of time to sort her feelings out. Whether Mira liked it or not, Isabelle Scott was on her way.
Five
Barbara’s car pulled away from 22 Hancock Street at the same time the Coastal Assisted Living van pulled out of the driveway with Grams tucked inside. Izzie watched the house disappear into the distance. She had a feeling this would be the last time she’d ever see it.
Barbara didn’t push her to make conversation in the car. She’d worked overtime trying to do that while Izzie had packed. Didn’t Barbara know how upset Izzie was? The last thing she wanted to do was make light conversation with her social worker while she tried to pack up her life in half an hour. She grabbed her first swim team medal and the framed picture of her and her mom at the shore the summer before she died. She tucked the frame between her Michael Jackson tee and her Harborside Beach Lifeguard jacket to keep it from breaking. The lavender paisley comforter Grams had bought her but Izzie never really liked would “accidentally” be left behind, along with the collection of dusty Beanie Babies Grams never wanted her to throw away (“You spent your allowance on those!”).
Izzie knew Barbara was just trying to do her job by loitering nearby while Izzie filled the large duffel bag to the brim, but her job didn’t give her the big picture. Izzie may have hated the lily wallpaper (which was why she’d covered it in black-and-white beach photos), and she wouldn’t miss the green garage-sale desk where she did her homework, but this was still her room, and had been her whole life. She couldn’t imagine loving anywhere as much as she did 22 Hancock Street. She liked how smooth the worn wooden banister felt on her hand as she hurried down the stairs (late for school—again) and how the sunlight hit the antique glass window in the foyer. She’d even miss the crooked front porch with its leaning porch swing.
She’d never again bike over to the Associate to buy a Powerade. She wouldn’t ride up to the boardwalk and feel the wind on her face. She didn’t know the next time she’d see her friends, the community center, or the swim team. Maybe there was a way she could still come back and compete. And she could probably take the bus to the boardwalk, right? Izzie didn’t know the Monroes, but they’d probably appreciate her earning her keep. If she kept lifeguarding, she could still see Brayden, and picturing Brayden’s face was the only thing giving her a calm exterior. Inside, she was freaking out. She quickly sent a text to him and Kylie so they’d know where she was.
IZZIE’S CELL: Don’t freak out. IM OK, but had 2 leave town & won’t B back anytime soon. Grams going into nursing home. Social taking me 2 new digs. Not sure what will happen, but will explain all when I resurface. Miss U guys already. xoxo Iz
Was the “miss you” part too much to write to Brayden? Izzie didn’t have time to debate it. She hit Send as Barbara turned onto Harborside’s main drag. She pressed her face against the window and watched the storefronts she knew so well scroll by. When they passed the community center, Izzie felt a pang
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