“We are too,” said Tinsley, winking. Clearly Angelo was psyched—it probably wasn’t every night that a group of dressed-up half-drunk girls showed up, eager to flirt with him. Jenny took a gulp from her sports bottle, hoping it would help her feel a little less left out.
“You guys know what you want?”
“Mmm,” said Sage Francis, tossing her platinum hair over her shoulder and leaning forward toward Angelo.
“How much pizza do you think we could eat?” Benny asked, definitely not willing to be left out. She batted her enormous dark brown eyes at Angelo.
Angelo looked them over, pretending to assess the situation with the eye of a pizza expert. Even Jenny felt herself shifting nervously, hoping he thought she was cute. “Well, you girls never eat as much as you should. You’re all too skinny. I’d say you could use three larges.” They all smiled. Who didn’t enjoy being told they were thin? They debated for a minute, then decided on one with cheese and mushrooms, one with pesto sauce, and the third with pepperoni and olives.
“He is so fucking hot,” Sage exclaimed as soon as Angelo walked away.
“Maybe I’ll say something in Italian to him. …” Benny bit her lips, stained a light pink with Vincent Longo’s Foolish Virgin lipstick. The color was a little dull, but Tinsley knew it was her favorite because of the name. Tinsley and Benny had once gotten drunk while studying for their European history final, and Benny had told her she considered herself a born-again virgin, without any of the religious implications, because she had accidentally lost it last Christmas break to a hot UPenn senior her parents had set her up with. She preferred not to count it, something that Tinsley found totally amusing.
Celine wrinkled her nose. “Isn’t that kind of racist? Just because he’s Italian doesn’t mean he speaks it. I mean, just because Alison’s Korean doesn’t mean she speaks Korean, right?”
“I speak Korean,” Alison admitted apologetically.
“I bet I could hook up with him before any of you guys could,” Callie announced abruptly. Jenny stared at her, wondering where this sudden burst of recklessness was coming from. Callie looked wilder than normal tonight, trading her usually classic preppy look for an outfit she could have worn club-hopping with Lindsay Lohan: a flirty deep purple BCBG Max Azria halter dress with a tiered, pleated miniskirt. The dress had a plunging neckline that would look sleazy on anyone with breasts like Jenny’s, but instead it just revealed Callie’s bony breastplate. God, she needed to eat something, Jenny thought, wishing she could hand over some of her own extra weight—namely, from her DD breasts—to Callie.
“Fifty bucks says I can beat you to it,” Benny countered cheerfully. Sage and Celine quickly jumped in.
“Angelo’s hot.” Tinsley leaned back in her chair, knowing that she looked gorgeous in her ecru Elie Tahari corset-inspired chiffon blouse. It set off her tan skin and dark hair, which framed her face in long, full waves. “But I prefer a more-mature guy.”
“Maybe you can hook up with his father,” Brett suggested, taking a long drink from her plastic bottle. They exchanged a charged glance, and Jenny wondered what was going on. She shivered a little, thinking of all the undercurrents she must be missing—these girls had known each other for years, and she had only just stepped in.
“That’s a little too old.” Tinsley smirked. “I couldn’t date someone beyond his mid-twenties, no matter how well endowed he was.”
“The whole family has a reputation for being hung like horses,” Alison whispered to Jenny, who almost spat out the warm wine in her mouth.
“I’m sure someone could find out, right?” Jenny giggled boldly. She needed to get some food into her body fast, or she was going to be in trouble. Her head was already beginning to swim.
“I’ve gotta pee,” Callie said ineloquently. She stood up and headed to the bathroom at the back of the restaurant, wobbling slightly on her heels.
Tinsley turned her blue-violet eyes to Jenny for the first time that night. “You could try finding out for yourself. Or do you have your eye on someone else?” Her tone was friendly and light, and if it had been anyone else but Tinsley asking, Jenny would have assumed she was just curious. But Tinsley had seen Jenny and Easy coming out of the woods, Jenny was sure of it now, and it seemed a little too convenient that she waited until Callie had left to bring it up, as if she hoped to goad Jenny into revealing something.
“That wouldn’t be allowed, right?” Jenny asked innocently. “I thought boyfriends were banned.”
“Excellent,” Tinsley praised her with a wry smile. “You’re paying attention.” Their gaze locked across the table before Jenny pulled hers away and took another sip of her wine.
“Just boyfriends are banned, right?” said Celine nervously. “Not, like, hooking up with guys?”
“That, my dear, is encouraged,” Tinsley announced regally, leaning back in her chair again. She looked like a panther, lean and strong and slightly bored, as if waiting for the perfect moment to pounce.
Angelo appeared with an enormous tray bearing three steaming pizzas. He expertly dished them out onto the girls’ plates while they smiled flirtatiously at him. As Jenny held out her plate for Angelo, she caught him staring at her cleavage. When she looked up to see if anyone else had noticed, she met Tinsley’s knowing gaze. Suddenly all her hunger drained away. For whatever reason, Tinsley had her eye on her. And it was not a comfortable feeling.
RyanReynolds: How’d your first meeting go? Any naked table dancing?
BennyCunningham: The night is young. … We just left Ritoli’s.
RyanReynolds: R u loaded?
BennyCunningham: Let’s just say, the entire world is spinning right now and I’ve got the urge to go skinny dipping.
RyanReynolds: Save that for Boston. I hear the Ritz has Jacuzzis in every room.
TinsleyCarmichael: I’ve been drinking wine and thinking about. …
EricDalton: Where are you?
TinsleyCarmichael: None of your beeswax.
EricDalton: Then when can I see you again?
TinsleyCarmichael: Soon enough. I hear that absence makes the heart grow fonder.
EricDalton: Or absence makes the heart grow tortured … Let’s go to New York.
TinsleyCarmichael: Thought you’d never ask. I’ve always wanted to stay at 40 Banfield in Soho.
EricDalton: That can be arranged. Tuesday? We can both call in sick.
TinsleyCarmichael: A Waverly Owl Does Not Skip Class! Kidding. I like that idea.
EricDalton: Good
TinsleyCarmichael: Speaking of cutting … I saw Easy Walsh skipping. … I know he’s on probation.
EricDalton: Sounds like I’ll have to have a word with him. That kid is trouble.
TinsleyCarmichael: You’re telling me.
EricDalton: So Tuesday then? I’m looking forward to it.
TinsleyCarmichael: Of course you are.
18
A WAVERLY OWL NEVER USES AN EX-BOYFRIEND AS A WEAPON.
The girls walked in a tight pack in the cool evening, bumping into each other as their delicate heels picked their way down the cobbled sidewalks of Rhinecliff. Callie was about to slow down a bit and wait for Tinsley to come up beside her and sling her arm through hers, but just then her tiny satin Jimmy Choo clutch began to vibrate. She thought for a brief, wonderful second that maybe it was Easy calling, but then she recognized the number as Brandon’s. He was probably calling to check on her, make sure she wasn’t too drunk, and while she didn’t exactly want to hear it, she was drunk enough to crave a boy’s voice.
“What’s up, Brandon?” Her tongue felt slightly heavy in her mouth.
“Nothing.” Brandon had a surprisingly deep phone voice, making him sound much older and more mysterious than he really was. “Just thought you might want to get coffee or something.”
“We’re on our way back from dinner. I don’t know if I’m in the mood for coffee.” Callie glanced over at Tinsley and noticed that she was instant messaging someone. Tur
ning her head slightly, she could see that Benny and Alison were too. What the fuck? Everyone else’s lives suddenly seemed so much more interesting and love-filled than hers. In a wave of self-pity, she wondered if hanging out with Brandon might boost her completely smashed ego. “Well, maybe.”
“I’m just leaving Berk.” Berkman-Meier was the music center, an enormous complex of concrete slab buildings, seventies style, that housed a large lecture hall where Waverly’s various music groups performed, music classrooms, and dozens of small soundproof rooms for individual practice. Brandon’s mother had been first violinist for the New York Philharmonic, and he played to be close to her. She’d died when he was only four, and it was the first thing she’d taught him to do, even before reading. It was sexy that Brandon was so good at something without even really trying—but Callie wished he were, like, a prodigy at the bass or an instrument with a little more rock-star cachet. “Want me to meet you at the front gate?”
Brandon was waiting for her at the gate when the pack of girls approached. Tinsley noticed him first and shot Callie a pointed look. “Looks like your boyfriend is waiting for you.”
“I can’t help it if I have admirers.” Callie noticed Jenny looking away uncomfortably. It pissed her off to have a younger girl pitying her, especially one who had become so friendly with Easy. At least Jenny had assured them that nothing was going on there. Callie was humiliated enough at being dumped, but being dumped because of someone else was ten times worse.
Brett winked at Callie over her shoulder as the rest of them continued on toward campus, shooting Brandon knowing looks and giggling as they passed.
“What was that all about?” Brandon demanded. He was wearing a neatly ironed pair of Paper Denim & Cloth jeans and a Brooklyn sweatshirt, even though he was from Greenwich. Callie was grateful he wasn’t carrying his violin.
“They’re just being stupid,” Callie replied a little crankily, feeling her buzz drain away. Then she noticed him staring at her. No matter how irritated she could get with Brandon, she had to admit it felt nice to have someone look at her like that, as if he couldn’t tear his eyes away.
“I just wanted to see how you were doing,” he faltered, with a tender smile.
“Don’t give me that fake sympathy. I know you’re thrilled Easy dumped me.” Callie pulled her almost-empty pack of Parliaments—she’d been smoking like a fiend lately—from the pocket of her True Religion jean jacket that used to fit her perfectly but now felt loose and annoying.
Brandon looked hurt. “I’m not sorry you’re not with him anymore—he doesn’t deserve to be with you. But I’m sorry you’re feeling bad.”
Callie sighed and lit her cigarette. Brandon was just so nice. Maybe that was the problem. Even after she broke up with him, he was sweet to her, letting her know he’d always be there for her and that he’d always love her. But while that seemed very noble of him, it didn’t make him any more appealing. He just made it too easy. “I don’t know. I’m probably getting what I deserve, right?”
“Callie, what you deserve is to be treated like the goddess you are.” Brandon shook his head. “Don’t let a slimebag like Easy bring you down.” He took in her thin, drawn face and felt scared for a moment, realizing how skinny and sad she seemed. “You’re just so far above him, it’s crazy.”
Callie sighed again. That was an easy thing to say to someone who’d just had their heart ripped out of their chest cavity and thrown onto the cold tile floor—he didn’t deserve you, you’re way too good for him, you can do so much better. Well, so what if Easy didn’t deserve her—it didn’t stop her from wanting him.
But then there was Brandon in his polo shirt with the Ralph Lauren horse emblem on the chest, his brown Calvin Klein wing tips shuffling nervously in the grass. At least she had the power to make one guy nervous in her presence.
“Easy could barely stand to look at me when he dumped me—it was like I was so repulsive, he wanted to erase every inch of me from his memory.” Callie stared at the ground and ran her hands up and down her jacketed arms pitifully.
“That’s so ridiculous! You are so fucking beautiful!” Brandon protested immediately, as she knew he would. Even if their whole interaction was totally predictable, Callie already felt better. After all, it wasn’t like it was Tinsley or Brett trying to cheer her up—Brandon was a guy. Him thinking she was beautiful meant more. “I mean, God. It hurts me to even look at you sometimes.”
“Why?”
Brandon shrugged. “Because I can’t have you.” He stared at her, willing her to contradict him, but Callie stayed silent for a moment, thinking about how badly she wished it were Easy standing here in the dark, cold evening, telling her these things.
But it wasn’t Easy. It was Brandon, a guy Easy disliked, thinking him too sentimental and conservative and clearly repressed. A guy it would piss off Easy to know she was starting up with again—and around Waverly, word traveled fast.
Impulsively, Callie stepped toward Brandon and rested her thin hand on his bare arm. It shook a little when she touched it. “Are you just saying that to make me feel better?” she asked coyly.
“You know I mean it,” he told her softly.
And so she leaned toward him and pressed her lips to his before he could say anything to change her mind. His mouth was soft and familiar and tasted like cinnamon gum, something new. When she felt him start to pull away, she pressed her body against his, hoping someone would walk by.
“Thank you,” she tried to murmur sexily as she pulled away. “For being so sweet. You made my night.” It was something a girl in a movie would have said.
Brandon touched her hair, stroking it gently like he used to. “You made my year.” It made Callie sad suddenly because she had said her line without really meaning it the way Brandon had.
“Walk me back?” she asked, wanting to get out of there, wanting to check her email in case Easy had written, and wanting to curl up in her most favorite Natori silk pajamas when she found out he hadn’t and cry herself to sleep.
EmilyJenkins: Bitches didn’t let me in their club, but I saw Callie sucking face with your roomie.
HeathFerro: BRANDON??
EmilyJenkins: The one and only.
HeathFerro: U think it’s to make EZ jealous?
EmilyJenkins: Duh.
HeathFerro: Yo, Callie’s kissing Brandon outside.
EasyWalsh: Um OK.
HeathFerro: U don’t care? EJ thinks it’s to make you jealous. R u?
EasyWalsh: Nah.
HeathFerro: Dude, gimme sumthin!
EasyWalsh: Fuck off, Ferro.
To: Undisclosed Secret Society Recipients
From: [email protected]
Date: Sunday, September 15, 11:43 a.m.
Subject: Boston
Dear Superfriends,
That’s right, you heard me. Time to look inside your soul and find your own superhero: maybe that’s Wonder Woman, or maybe, if you’re me, that’s Hugh Hefner.
You have less than a week to prepare. Details to follow.
Fondling-ly yours,
HF
19
A WAVERLY OWL WEARS PROPER HEADGEAR WHEN ENGAGED IN A DANGEROUS PHYSICAL ACTIVITY.
Jenny had Googled horseback riding clothes, so she felt relatively prepared showing up at the stables on Sunday afternoon for her riding date with Easy. The Web sites said straight-leg jeans were the best if you didn’t have jodhpurs, which Jenny definitely didn’t, so she wore a pair of straight-leg Diesel jeans she’d had since seventh grade, when she’d stopped growing. Well, growing taller—her chest had obviously continued to bloom. Her long hair fell into two braids down her back, which she hoped gave her an air of boho chic and not an air of insane-Heidi chick.
Even though it was clear that Callie was still reeling from her breakup with Easy, Jenny couldn’t stop thinking about him. When Emma Bovary falls in love with Rodolphe, Jenny gave him Easy’s face, and when she later falls uncontrollably in love with Léon, Jenny i
magined he was as irresistible as Easy. She just hoped she wouldn’t bring disaster upon herself like poor silly Emma.
When she got to the stables, she saw Easy leading two horses out in the paddock, one black, one a deep chestnut. She watched for a minute, noticing how Easy’s head was bent toward them as he patted them both on their necks, talking to them. His hands ran across the saddles and stirrups.
“Which one is Credo?” Jenny asked when Easy finally noticed her approaching.
He stroked the black one’s sleek mane. “This is my sweetheart. Isn’t she gorgeous?”
Jenny crept slowly toward Easy and his horse, not wanting to spook her. Credo was enormous. “Credo’s a girl? She’s so huge.”
Easy laughed. “She’s really not. I’m going to ride Dean Marymount’s mare, Diana, because she’s a lot bigger than Credo. And I told Credo to be gentle with you.”
“Good,” Jenny said, hesitantly touching the horse on her neck where Easy had been stroking her. Her coat was surprisingly soft and glossy. Credo shifted a little at Jenny’s touch and turned her head to look at her. The quick movement startled Jenny, but she didn’t flinch and instead kept petting the giant animal as she admired her enormous, brown-liquid eyes.
“Let her smell your hand,” Easy said over her shoulder. “It will help her get to know you faster.”
“Like this?” Jenny held her palm out awkwardly in front of Credo’s nose. With anyone but Easy, she would have been terrified that the horse would bite her hand off, but she trusted him. Credo made a snuffling noise with her nostrils and nuzzled her soft, damp nose against Jenny’s hand. Jenny giggled. “She looks so much happier than those poor horses in the city that have to pull carriages around Central Park for tourists all day.”
“God, you’re a city girl,” Easy said affectionately. He held out a black velvet riding helmet. “Here,” he said. “See if this fits.”
“I have to wear a helmet? Does that mean there’s a chance she’s going to throw me off or something?” She held it awkwardly in her hands, suddenly scared again, visualizing her body flying through the air and landing in a crunch of bones against the hard, packed dirt.
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