Blossom in Winter (Blossom in Winter #1)(2)
Carol jumps onto the bed. “Okay, but this is the party. The last one before summer, and before everyone goes to college. C’mon, Petra. Everyone will be there.”
“Just this time, please,” begs Laura.
I sigh, tired of their insistence. “Fine, I’ll ask him. But if he doesn’t let me go, I won’t argue.”
Emma huffs. “Such a daddy’s girl. Unbelievable.”
“Ms. Van Gatt, for the final time, dinner is served!”
I frown at the loud, high-pitched voice. “Coming, Janine!” I scream back. “Okay, let’s continue this conversation after dinner—otherwise, Janine will lose her temper.”
In the dining room, we find that supper is waiting for us.
“You know, you should really impose your own will sometimes…” Carol begins as Janine pours water in her glass.
“Carol,” I quickly murmur, glancing at Janine.
But Carol doesn’t seem to care. “You’re turning eighteen in December. I’m just worried about you. And I bet your mom is too.”
Emma, who’s sitting beside her, reaches out to stop Carol from going any further. “Carol, enough.”
Janine’s a lovely housekeeper, a friendly person, and a talented cook, but she’s also a very loyal employee. I know she will tell my father anything to gain a generous tip.
The only people I trust are at this table. Well, almost all of them. Because there is one more—James.
James is not only a friend but also one of the hottest guys at school. And, most importantly, very mature, especially compared to the rest of his squad. We talk about philosophy, history, and literature—all subjects I can spend hours discussing. While he’s athletic, he also likes to read and to recommend his favorite books to me. I managed to meet him once after school by pretending to be at Emma’s doing homework. It was a short date, just two hours, but it was the most exciting time I’d ever spent with a boy. My father doesn’t like James, nor his heritage. For Dad, an affluent and connected family is a key requirement for anyone wishing to hang out with me. But James’s family doesn’t make the cut—his mother, a nurse at a public hospital, works nonstop to afford his education, and his father is a pro bono lawyer. There’s no pedigree behind him, and Dad knows it.
In fact, my father believes boys are a stupid and useless distraction. That’s why he’d wanted me to remain at the Convent of the Sacred Heart, a private all-girls Catholic school nearby, which is where I studied until eighth grade and met Emma. Since she was being transferred to Loyola, a private coed school, I asked Dad if I could go with her. It was nearly impossible to convince him, as he didn’t want me studying with male students around. He’d even yelled over the phone to my mother: Having boys in the same school will only screw her education. She needs to be focused! This is the best school in New York City for her! But finally, after some tough negotiations and a bloody battle, I was allowed to transfer.
However, unlike my friends, I’m still not allowed to wear makeup—except a transparent gloss and some powder foundation—or paint my nails. Dad doesn’t like it. And while my friends are real fashionistas outside Loyola, ostentation like theirs is not tolerated. I can’t wear any designer brands either. My style must remain discreet, simple, and casual: nothing too short, too revealing, or too daring. A modern but modest lady, as my father and his entourage would say. But also, according to them, I need no extra embellishment whatsoever. With big blue eyes, wavy brown hair falling below my chest (which I usually clasp with a barrette), dark brows, full lips, a body a bit too skinny for my taste, and very fair skin, I’m described by them as a “rare kind of pure and natural beauty.” Oh, and my favorite: “an angelic creature lost in a vain and mundane world.” Yep, quite poetic.
At school, my classmates think I’m quite reserved and old-fashioned, while my teachers praise me to be mature and hardworking. But somehow, they’ve all agreed I’m the most unreadable and curious person on the planet. According to Emma, I’m a mystery to everyone, and against all odds, the most popular, hated, and desired one.
Speaking of popularity at Loyola, I often wonder how Emily Hasenfratz (or just Emma to friends) became my absolute bestie. In fact, Emma has always been the adventurous, independent, and crazy one—my opposite. Emma’s the type of girl who runs away to attend her friends’ parties in Soho while her parents are asleep, who got her first boyfriend at thirteen, tried marijuana when she turned fifteen, and got her first tattoo by sixteen. She is known as a mean bitch, or just The Bitch. But for me, she became the big sister I never had.
Emma is also very much in-your-face. She couldn’t care less about hurting people’s feelings if it means speaking her mind, which frequently gets her into trouble. The Hasenfratz family is very close to my father, and very loyal too. When I sleep over, all eyes are glued on us to avoid any potential scandal, but since Emma has always been smart enough not to get caught, her parents haven’t realized how wild and dangerous their daughter can be. And yet, despite everything so far, Emma still hasn’t managed to convince me to run away to parties, to kiss random boys, drink alcohol, or even to try a cigarette. If my father is known to have a devoted network of friends and minions at his service, I seem to be the one working the hardest to avoid his displeasure.
“So, any plans for the summer?” Laura asks in an attempt to change the subject.