Which picture did he even like? She hadn’t posted in nearly a month.
Most of her photos, including a cute pig at the livestock show she covered in July, a birthday cake the staff had given her in June, and a pretty sunset she caught from the window of the office in May, were work-related.
She clicked on the notification, surprised by the sudden rush of nerves she felt. He had gone all the way back to April, to the one of her at the state journalism conference posing onstage with the award she had just received for best public service reporting. That post had gotten seventy-eight likes—the most any of her pictures had ever gotten. And now, thanks to Wynn, it was seventy-nine.
Callie tapped Wynn’s profile picture, which looked like a headshot she had seen on the billboards around town showing off the News 12 team. He was wearing a fitted suit jacket and tie, and his blond hair was neatly combed.
Most of his pictures seemed to revolve around work, too. Although, a tan brunette woman kept popping up in a lot of the shots. Callie quickly figured out it was another reporter from the station, Vanessa Sinclair.
After a Google search, Callie learned she was most famous for when she got stuck at the top of the Ferris wheel with some kids during a live broadcast. They had turned the whole two-hour ordeal into a funny documentary for the news. From the way she handled herself and played along while the kids tried to teach her everything she needed to know about Fortnite, Vanessa seemed sweet. But looking at the pictures of her now, Callie couldn’t help but bristle.
She clicked on Vanessa’s profile and opened up her Instagram profile. In all of the pictures, her long bouncy hair was shining with caramel highlights, and her tan skin managed to look flawless in whatever light she was standing in. Wynn was in a lot of her pictures, too. In one, they were at the news studio, looking at each other and laughing, like they were sharing an inside joke. “We have fun sometimes,” she captioned the picture.
Another shot showed the two of them standing in front of a publicity backdrop banner at the Gator Ball. Callie swallowed at the sight of him in the perfectly tailored black tux, but once she noticed he had his arm on the small of Vanessa’s back, she continued scrolling.
There were more of the two of them at a Fourth of July barbecue clinking the longneck bottles in their hands. They were both wearing red, white, and blue—an American flag across the chest of her tank top. Callie zoomed in on her impeccably toned arms and rolled her eyes.
As she continued scrolling, she stared at Vanessa’s bleach-white smile, athletic body, and contoured face. She was so pretty! Callie couldn’t help but wonder if they were more than just coworkers.
She leaned back in her chair and sighed. Guys like Wynn wanted girls like Vanessa, not girls like her. She looked back at the picture he had liked of hers. Her dull brown hair was in a boring low ponytail, and her face was splotchy and pale. She was embarrassed that he had even seen it. Maybe a little makeup wouldn’t be the worst idea, she thought.
The loud air-conditioning that had been blowing suddenly went silent, and Callie realized she was the only one in the office. Even Jerry was gone. She shut down her computer and grabbed her bag. Garrett was right. She needed to do something fun with her life… she just didn’t know what yet.
Her phone buzzed in her hand as she was walking out the door. A text message from Lexi appeared on her screen. I need a wedding dress like yesterday. Shop with me in New Orleans this weekend?
New Orleans. It was a perfect first step toward fun. Callie’s fingers couldn’t type fast enough: I’m in!
CHAPTER 12 Hanna
The red glow of the evening sun streamed in through the windows of the Evangeline Oaks auditorium. Hanna had arrived for her first PTA meeting and took a moment to admire the room. It featured a wood acoustic-paneled ceiling, blue velvet cushioned armchairs, and dark gray carpet that must have been new given the crisp, clean chemical smell wafting through the air. It was a far cry from Jefferson Elementary’s auditorium, which had paint—and an occasional booger—peeling off the cinder block walls.
Heeding the warning of Principal Bernard and determined to make a better impression on the Parent Patrol moms, she had spent the afternoon getting her blond hair freshened up with a cut and highlights at the salon, and buying a new floral flutter sleeve dress and pair of tan heels for the occasion. For extra oomph, she popped on Tom’s late grandmother’s strand of pearls before she left the house. She had been pleased with how she looked, but now, standing in the auditorium and seeing the other moms, she felt totally out of place… again.
She was a frilly dress in a sea of yoga pants. Packs of women were huddled in clusters around the room, laughing and chatting in their expensive athleisure wear while clutching onto their S’well thermoses. Hanna sighed. Why did it feel like there was a script for this new life no one was willing to share?
She noticed the group of three moms who had accosted her in the parking lot on Monday and inadvertently made eye contact with one of them. The woman flashed a tight smile and waved her over. Hanna inwardly scolded her pounding heart as she approached. “Parent Patrol, right?” she said with a nervous smile.
“Hanna Peck! Don’t you just look picture ready for church on Sunday?” said the glamorous woman with warm blond hair and a nasally voice. She looked like she was stifling a laugh.
“Uhhh, yeah,” Hanna said, feeling extra self-conscious.
“I’m Genevieve,” the woman said, giving her a limp handshake.
The other two followed suit. The curly-haired woman’s name was Taffy, while the one with the dark pixie cut was named Maya.
“Congratulations, by the way,” Genevieve said, her voice sweet as honey. “We heard you won the lottery. What’s that like?” She smiled in a way that Hanna could have sworn was condescending.
Hanna suddenly felt hot. She shifted from one side to the other and touched her neck.
“Oh, yeah. You saw? Ha.” The room of murmured conversations felt like it had gone silent, and it seemed like some of the other ladies in the room had inched in closer like they were trying to hear. “It’s been nice,” she said, trying to be vague.
What did they want from her, anyway?
We were once too poor to be in the same room as you and yet here we are? She quickly changed the conversation. “My kids are loving it here so far.”
“It’s a very good school.” Genevieve pushed her long hair to the side. “I think your son Duke is in class with my Max—”
Hanna wanted to interrupt her and correct Drake’s name, but Genevieve didn’t take a breath.
“Max told me yesterday that he caught Duke up on how to do decimals. I guess that wasn’t in his old school’s curriculum.” She laughed and then put her hand on Hanna’s shoulder, changing her tone to sound serious. “Duke will get the best education here.”
“It’s—” Hanna began to correct her before Genevieve looked urgently at her Fitbit and began shuffling to the stage. “Y’all take a seat. I’m gonna start the meeting.”
Of course she is also the PTA president, Hanna thought, crossing her arms.
The front middle row of the auditorium had ten seats, and eight of them were already taken. Taffy and Maya scooted quickly into the remaining two, greeting the other moms. Hanna headed to a row in the back, eager to stay away from any more cliques.