Chapter 1 #2
Dad smiles, his gaze moving to the woman who stepped out of the car with Mr. Fox.
I assume she’s his wife. She’s so beautiful all I can do is stare.
She has blond hair cut neatly to her shoulders, and pale green eyes the color of spring.
Her hair is smooth and shiny, and I find myself pushing my frizzy curls behind my ears.
Not that it’ll stay put. It never does. My hair is always out of control, especially in the summer with the humidity, and sometimes I just wish I had normal hair like everyone else.
Mrs. Fox looks annoyed at first, but when she meets Dad’s eyes, she exhales and shakes her head. She takes that moment to rearrange her face into a smile and if I thought Mr. Fox’s was blinding, I almost need sunglasses with hers.
“Horatio, is that you?” she asks, her voice clear and pretty.
“Mira,” Dad says, taking her hands and leaning in to kiss her cheeks.
It’s weird, like we’re European or something.
We’re not. We’re just from New England, born and bred, as Dad says.
We don’t put on airs. It’s one of the reasons why, when all the other girls get dropped off at school in limousines by chauffeurs, Dad insists on bringing me in our Range Rover that he’s had for seven years.
I like that about us and don’t really care if the others talk about me behind my back. I guess it’s why this kissing her cheeks thing is so weird to me. It’s not like Dad.
“And who is this darling thing?” she asks, crouching down to get a look at me, her gaze moving over my poofy hair, confirming it did not stay where I put it.
Close up, I see how when she smiles, nothing else on her face changes.
Her eyes stay exactly the same, and where Tonia’s eyes crinkle around the edges when we laugh, Mrs. Fox’s don’t do anything at all.
“I’m Phee, Ma’am. Nice to meet you.”
“How old are you, Phee?” she asks, and I get the feeling she’s expecting me to hold up my fingers to show her like I’m a small child.
“I’m twelve. How about you?”
“Phee!” Dad snaps.
“What?” I ask, even though I know it’s rude.
Mrs. Fox laughs what doesn’t quite sound like a real laugh, but Dad tugs me into himself with a warning squeeze of my shoulders as she straightens once again. She doesn’t answer the question, and when Ethan comes around the corner looking irritated too, I wonder what’s got them all annoyed.
“Ethan, come here and meet Phee, darling.”
Ethan looks up at his mom, then at me and he smiles, but there’s something about him that makes me feel weird.
“Hey, Phee. Nice glasses,” he says.
I’m pretty sure he doesn’t think they’re at all nice.
I adjust them, pushing them farther up my nose as my cheeks burn. “Thanks,” I say, although I’m not thankful. I’m embarrassed. I should have put on my new glasses. They make me look a little less nerdy.
Ethan’s dad clears his throat. Ethan rolls his eyes but holds out his hand for me to shake. I take it and do the shaking because he just lets his hang there, limp.
“What’s in there?” Ethan asks.
I look down at what he’s pointing to and remember the cookies. It feels stupid to have them now. I feel like a little kid.
“Phee baked some cookies to welcome you all. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?” Dad says. He squeezes my shoulder encouragingly. I’m sure he knows I feel embarrassed. We’re close, my dad and me. I guess that’s normal when you don’t have a mom or siblings.
“Yes. Here you go.” I hold the tin out and Ethan takes it, pops the lid off, and helps himself to one without offering any to anyone else. He shoves the whole thing right into his mouth.
“Ethan!” Mrs. Fox chastises.
“What? We missed lunch,” he says, reaching for another one. “They’re good. Thanks,” he tells me. “Want to see the pool?”
“Sure,” I say, relieved to just go outside. I look up at Dad for permission, especially since he said I shouldn’t expect to be invited to swim, but it’s Mr. Fox who answers.
“You two go on. Horatio, you have a few minutes?”
“Sure,” Dad says after a moment. “We don’t want to be in the way, though. Business can wait.”
“It’s why we pay the movers,” Mr. Fox says. “Let’s go to my study.”
Dad and Mr. Fox disappear, and Mrs. Fox turns to Ethan. “No swimming until after you’ve unpacked your room, young man.”
“It’s why we pay the movers,” Ethan says, mimicking his dad and taking another cookie before finally offering me one.
I take one. “Thanks,” I say, even though it’s weird to thank him for giving me one of my own cookies.
We walk out to the pool, and around the corner, I see the little house from earlier and the woman with the long dark hair setting a plant by the front door.
When she sees us, she bites her lip. She’s pretty, and close up, I see she has a very thin braid with a feather in it tucked behind her ear.
I smile and wave. She looks surprised, but then smiles and waves back.
“Dad says you moved from New York City,” I say, feeling awkward trailing behind Ethan.
“Yeah.” He stands at the edge of the pool.
“You miss it?”
He shrugs a shoulder. “Only just got here.” He hands me the tin of cookies and strips off his shirt.
“Your mom said you can’t swim until after you unpack your room,” I remind him, not wanting him to get into trouble.
“And I reminded her we pay movers to do that.” He slips off his flip flops. “Don’t suppose you know anything about the boys’ school here, do you?”
I shake my head, squinting up at him. The sun is in my eyes.
“The sisters keep the girls’ and boys’ schools strictly separate.
” The school I go to, Notre Dame Academy, has two buildings on the same grounds, one for boys and one for girls.
The property is several acres large, so it’s not hard to keep the two schools divided.
“That’s too bad,” he says.
“I like it,” I say.
He looks me over. “You’re twelve. Wait until you’re my age.” He walks to the edge of the pool and dips a toe into the water to test the temperature.
“Because you’re such an adult?” comes a low voice from behind us.
I spin around, startled, and for a split second, it’s like everything goes quiet around me, like time stops for that tiny little moment.
It’s the boy with the turquoise eyes.
Ethan groans and turns to face him. Up close, I can see the right one is more blue than green and the left one is the opposite.
This boy is definitely older than Ethan. Being just a few feet from him, I can see the little bit of stubble on his jaw and the lean muscle in his arms. My stomach flutters like it does when I’m nervous or anxious.
He glances at me and raises his eyebrows. I’m staring and just being weird. I blink, close my mouth and look away.
“Shouldn’t you get to work with the rest of them?” Ethan asks him, stepping right up to him in a way that tells me they don’t like each other very much.
The older boy looms closer, towering over Ethan. “You mean the rest of the help?”
Ethan shrugs a shoulder. “You said it, not me.”
“Useless piece of…” he mutters the last part under his breath and turns to me, but I can guess what he says. He looks me up and down. I don’t even know him, and I get the feeling he’s angry even with me. “Where are your binoculars?” he asks.
So, he did see me. I feel my face heat up, and my mouth feels like I swallowed sand.
“What binoculars?” Ethan asks.
The older boy grins, then turns to Ethan and ruffles his hair. “Don’t tax your brain with more info than it needs, kid. Space is limited as it is.” He looks at me. “What’s your name?”
“O,” I start but have to clear my throat.
“Ophelia. Ophelia Hart.” My heart thuds against my chest and I rush to correct myself.
I’m not sure why I gave him my full name.
“But everyone calls me Phee.” Not knowing what to do, I hold out my hand to shake his.
He just looks at it, eyebrows furrowing in confusion or amusement, and I’m sure my face is red as a beet now.
“Do they? Well, Ophelia Hart, careful with those binoculars. Some things are better left unknown.”
Confused, I want to ask him what he means, but I can’t find my voice.
He eyes the tin I’m holding. “Aren’t you going to offer me a cookie?” he asks, tone taunting.
“Oh,” I croak. “Would you like—”
“You don’t have to offer him shit,” Ethan says, snatching the tin from me. “Don’t want to give the help the wrong impression.”
“Is that right?” the older boy says, stepping right up to Ethan, taking a cookie, and shoving it into his mouth whole. He chews, swallows, then grins. “They’re good. Mom will like them. I’ll take them back to her. Not like Mira’s going to eat them.”
“Just try it,” Ethan says.
“All right,” the older boy says and before I even know what’s happening, he takes the tin from Ethan, and with a little shove, knocks Ethan into the pool.
Shocked, all I can do is stand there with my mouth gaping and watch Ethan go under, flail for a moment, then pop back up.
“You fucking asshole!” Ethan yells. I take off my glasses to wipe away the water, but my dress is soaked from the splash, so I just end up smearing it.
Mrs. Fox comes running out of the house, her high heels digging into the lawn.
The older boy just turns toward her, nods his greeting, and shoves another cookie into his mouth, taking the whole tin with him as he turns his back and walks away.
“Silas Cruz, you stay away from my son!” Mrs. Fox yells and rushes toward Ethan, who is climbing out of the pool. “Honey! Are you all right?”
Ethan curses under his breath and watches the boy, Silas Cruz, casually walk back to the little cottage where the woman with the dark hair stands outside watching until Mrs. Fox turns to face her. At that, she slips inside and disappears from view.