Classic

by Cecily von Ziegesar

  “Sorry,” she said, more to be polite than anything else. “Please tell me you have more of those brownies. I need one!” All she wanted to do right now was laugh herself nearly hoarse and feel relaxed.

  “Yeah, those are totally gone,” Alan said, shaking his head sorrowfully. “The edibles never last long. Want to come in?”

  “Sure,” Callie said, trying not to feel disappointed. It wasn’t like pot brownies were a real solution, anyway. She stepped inside the small dorm room and instantly regretted it. There was too much Easy everywhere. The faint smell of horses, hay, cigarettes, and sweat hung in the incense-scented air. His side of the room was neater than it had been before—another lingering effect of military school, maybe—but there were his old Levi’s thrown at the foot of his bed and his art supplies stacked in an efficient if sloppy pile down on the floor beside it. Callie swallowed and then made herself turn and sit in Alan’s desk chair as if she couldn’t care less.

  “Want to smoke or something?” Alan asked. He eyed her for a moment. “You look stressed.”

  He didn’t wait for her answer. He pulled out a joint from the pocket of his beat-up gray Middlebury Football hoodie and offered it to her.

  “No, thanks,” Callie said.

  “Seriously.” Alan’s eyebrows rose over his sleepy eyes. “You’re, like, twitching.”

  “It’s just that nothing has happened!” Callie exclaimed, kind of embarrassed that she was wailing but also not sure she cared. “I mean, I expected something. A text message! A look from across the dining hall! I don’t know. But there hasn’t been a single peep out of either one of them!”

  Alan stared at her for another moment, and then he ran a hand through his shaggy hair and shook his head. He looked longingly at the unlit joint before shoving it back in his pocket. Without a glance at Callie, he went over to Easy’s bed and reached underneath it, pulling out a blue shoebox. Without a word, he took off the lid and presented the box to her, as though the box were on a silver platter.

  At first Callie couldn’t make sense of what she was seeing. But the red mess eventually separated into plump little plastic hearts, all with owls stamped into their round bellies. Callie reached over and touched one of the hearts, feeling the hard plastic with her fingertips.

  That stupid scavenger hunt, the one that made everyone laugh because it was so lame and no one ever did it.

  She tried to imagine Easy, of all people, going on a scavenger hunt around the Waverly campus. Collecting hearts.

  For her.

  She looked up at Alan, a grin breaking across her face, while relief and jubilation soared within her.

  “You are a genius!” she cried.

  “I don’t know about that,” Alan said, but he smiled back.

  Callie was so excited that she jumped to her feet and then couldn’t resist giving Alan a quick little peck on his scruffy cheek.

  “I will never be able to thank you,” she whispered, happiness surging through her and seeming to bubble beneath her skin.

  She let it carry her right back out the door and into the night.

  23

  A WAVERLY OWL WILLINGLY ASKS DIFFICULT

  QUESTIONS.

  Jenny waited for Isaac’s English seminar to let out from its evening meeting, shifting impatiently from one foot to the other in the brutally overheated foyer of Hunter Hall. She’d carefully dressed in a dark red Anthropologie sweater with ruffled sleeves. If things went poorly, she was counting on her favorite sweater to make her feel a little bit better.

  The seminar room door opened, and she took a quick, deep breath. She could do this. She needed to do this. It was what normal people did in normal relationships, without all the worrying and wondering and dire warnings from their friends. They needed to just talk.

  So why did it feel so hard?

  Owls flooded down the steps, complaining loudly that they were hungry and it was too dark, but Jenny only smiled and nodded absently at faces she recognized, like bleached blond Evelyn Dahlie, because she was looking for one face in particular.

  Isaac’s. He walked out of the seminar room, and when he saw her standing there his face broke into a smile. Immediately some of Jenny’s panic eased. His dark hair curled messily, and his pale green eyes contrasted with his tanned skin. She suddenly remembered seeing him for the first time, on the first day of the new term, when she’d been sitting in the chapel and he’d been up on stage behind his dad. He’d caught her eye and smiled at her like he’d known her forever. She felt the same warmth spread through her now.

  “Hey,” he said, walking over to her. “What are you doing here?”

  “I thought I’d surprise you,” Jenny replied. She handed him one of the insulated travel mugs she’d been holding in her hands. “I even brought you hot chocolate. It’s pretty cold out there.” He’d brought them both hot chocolate when they went on their first “date,” a winter walk to the crater. She’d been swept away by the sweet gesture, and now she hoped he would be, too.

  Isaac’s smile deepened, and he moved closer. “How awesome are you?” he asked, taking the mug gratefully. He stepped out of the flow of traffic and joined Jenny in the little alcove by the windows above the stairs.

  “I want to ask you something,” Jenny blurted out, afraid if she waited she’d lose her nerve.

  “Sure,” Isaac said easily. He took a sip of his hot chocolate and made an approving noise. He sank down on the top step and patted the space beside him. Jenny sat down on the wide, cold stone, feeling encouraged. Isaac didn’t seem nervous. Surely, if he was hiding something, he would be nervous that she wanted to ask him questions, wouldn’t he?

  She waited until the last student had sailed through the heavy outside doors and then squared her shoulders. “Is there something I should know about?” she asked. She willed herself to look him in the eye.

  Isaac frowned, confused. “I don’t think so,” he said slowly. “Unless you want me to tell you about Virginia Woolf. We just talked about her in class. But you’ve probably read A Room of One’s Own, right?”

  Jenny bit her lip to keep from smiling and plowed on. “It’s just that you were really weird earlier this week,” she said quickly. Maybe if they got this over with, they really could talk about Virginia Woolf or something else entirely. “You usually walk me all the way to Dumbarton, but the minute I started talking about Valentine’s Day, you took off. Was something going on?”

  Their eyes met. Jenny panicked. What if he wasn’t going to answer? What if he was going to answer and it was something bad? But then Isaac blinked.

  “Oh my God,” he said, shaking his head. “I am so sorry.” His green eyes were serious when they met hers. “Of course you thought something was up.” He sighed. “What was up was that I completely forgot it was Valentine’s Day. I had some things that I had to take care of. But now it’s done, and I can focus all my energy on you.”

  Jenny imagined the ball again, with Isaac looking at her exactly the way he was now, so serious and earnest, dipping her over his arm, then spinning her around and around….

  “Okay,” she said softly. “I just wondered.”

  “I had this cute girl wanting me to be romantic so of course I froze,” Isaac said gently, moving closer to her on the step. “I was wondering how I could possibly have forgotten. I mean, Valentine’s Day requires some preparation, Jenny.”

  “It does?” Jenny asked, but she could feel a goofy grin taking over her face. She couldn’t believe that she’d been so worried about this for so long, and he’d just been dealing with something else entirely. And he’d called her cute.

  “Of course,” Isaac said. He handed her back the mug she’d given him and dug around in his bag. He pulled out a thin, flat box and suddenly looked almost shy.

  “I wanted you to have this,” he said. Jenny’s hands were full, so he opened the box and pulled out a small, framed sketch. Jenny recognized it immediately. One afternoon during Jan Plan, she and Isaac had been sitting in Maxwell w
hile Jenny sketched, and she had sketched their hands as they’d both held on to a single cappuccino mug. It had just been a silly doodle.

  “That’s the first picture you ever drew of us,” Isaac said. His mouth curved. “I thought it should be framed.”

  Something warm started to glow inside of her, heating her up from the inside out. “I think you’re kind of amazing,” Jenny said, smiling up at him.

  “I’m glad you think so,” Isaac said. He looked down and then met her gaze again. “Because I’m hoping you’ll go to the Valentine’s Day Ball with me. I mean, I know we’re supposed to go with our Perfect Matches and everything, but I’m sure Brett will be busy with Sebastian….”

  Jenny’s heart felt too big for her chest. It was really happening. She could almost see the two of them dancing, Isaac’s strong arms tight around her, his face pressed close to hers, as her dress swished and swayed to the music….

  “Yes,” she whispered dreamily. “I’d love to.” She thought she might overflow with happiness. Thank God she’d asked Isaac what was happening instead of continuing to stress. Julian’s advice was spot-on.

  She felt an odd twinge then, thinking of Julian, but she forgot it almost immediately when Isaac moved closer and slid his arm around her shoulders. She tilted her head back to look at him, her heart fluttering wildly as he leaned over and then pressed his lips to hers.

  Jenny felt her toes curl in her carefully chosen Frye boots.

  Everything was absolutely and perfectly okay.

  * * *

  OwlNet

  Instant Message Inbox

  * * *

  BennyCunningham: Are you excited for your romantic date with Drew??

  SageFrancis: Do you think anyone would notice if I bailed? There must be other guys who need dates….

  BennyCunningham: Keep your grubby paws off my Perfect Match!

  SageFrancis: Um, hello, been there and done that. He’s all yours.

  * * *

  OwlNet

  Instant Message Inbox

  * * *

  AlisonQuentin: Is it weird that I’m acting like the ball is, like, the prom?

  CelineColista: Hell no! If I was going with Parker DuBois, I’d be giving it the full Cinderella treatment too.

  AlisonQuentin: He is so hot…. I can’t stand it.

  CelineColista: If you really can’t stand it, I’m sure I can. Feel free to share.

  AlisonQuentin: Over my dead body.

  * * *

  OwlNet

  Instant Message Inbox

  * * *

  AlanStGirard: I hate dressing up. I hate dancing. This is like torture.

  RyanReynolds: Yeah, but girls love it.

  AlanStGirard: I don’t think Kara loves it. Or you.

  RyanReynolds: Dude. I have to take her, but that doesn’t mean I have to leave with her.

  * * *

  OwlNet

  Instant Message Inbox

  * * *

  BennyCarmichael: I certainly hope you collected all those plastic hearts for me. ;)

  LonBaruzza: Does anyone actually do that?

  BennyCarmichael: Only if they’re pathetic. Or twelve. Make sure you bring refreshments.

  LonBaruzza: You know it.

  24

  A WAVERLY OWL FACES UP TO THE CONSEQUENCES

  OF HER ACTIONS.

  Callie nervously smoothed her hands along the ruched sides of her formfitting, scarlet Zac Posen dress, shifting her weight from one hot pink Kate Spade sling-back to the other. She’d spent hours perfecting her casual yet sophisticated side-swept ponytail, and she knew her hair looked terrific. Even Alan, currently standing next to her and zoning out on one of the slowly spinning disco balls suspended from the ceiling, had managed to focus long enough to tell her she looked pretty.

  Now if only Easy would show up, everything would be the way it was supposed to be. Callie bit her lip as her eyes scanned the Owls crowding into the transformed Reynolds Atrium. It was a two-story space courtesy of a hefty donation from Ryan Reynolds’s contact-lens-king father, complete with a glass barrel-vaulted ceiling designed by I. M. Pei. The Valentine’s Day Ball committee had done an incredible job. The space shone with red and gold and pink and silver—from the helium balloons in V-Day colors to the gentle pink lights that made the room feel more intimate than it was. The usual red Pottery Barn couches blended right in, and the green-and-gold paisley carpet was covered by a temporary dance floor. Even Callie, who was admittedly jaded about some things, thought the room looked gorgeous.

  She adjusted the bright red strap on her shoulder and smiled automatically at the familiar faces that streamed by her, as all the Perfect Match couples wandered into the ball in varying states of awkwardness. Tinsley and Brett marched in arm in arm, whispering to each other, while Heath and Sebastian trailed behind, sharing sips from Heath’s trusty flask. Jenny, wearing one of Callie’s dresses, was making googly eyes at Isaac, despite the fact that he was technically Brett’s date. On her other side, Julian McCafferty walked quietly with a resigned look on his face. Rifat Jones was leaning so far into Teague Williams’s side, laughing and whispering in his ear, that it was hard to see where her Betsey Johnson dress ended and his Hugo Boss suit began. But Callie couldn’t even giggle at the way Kara Whalen and Ryan Reynolds marched in, side by side, looking like they were headed toward a firing squad. She could only really concentrate on peering around Alan’s shoulder and wondering why she couldn’t spot Easy in the crowd.

  She couldn’t wait. Adrenaline and excitement coursed through her, leaving her breathless. If she closed her eyes, she could see the whole night spin out perfectly in her mind. Easy would arrive, wearing an impeccably tailored suit despite the fact he detested dressing up. He’d be looking so good, she’d feel fluttery. He would stride across the floor—or maybe gallop across it, astride Credo like some white knight—and present a huge box of hearts to Mrs. Pritchard, who would then present him with the Sweet Heart. Easy would then declare to the entire school that he was in love with Callie and would sweep her into his arms for a romantic dance in the center of the atrium, wedding-style, while everyone cheered and wept. It would all end, of course, in a happily-ever-after kiss. Her heart skipped a few beats as she pictured it.

  Mrs. Pritchard appeared then, climbing up onto the little mini-stage they’d constructed beneath the huge, blank white wall where they would be playing the “Love at Waverly” slideshow later. It occurred to Callie that she hadn’t bothered to send in any pictures this year, but she forgot it almost immediately as Mrs. Pritchard began talking.

  “Your attention please, Owls!” she called into the microphone over the excited buzz of Waverly students decked out in their Valentine’s Day Ball best.

  In front of Callie, Benny Cunningham took a big swig from Lon Baruzza’s flask and then giggled while Lon secured it on the inside of his sleek dark suit jacket. Benny’s long brown hair looked pink from the Valentine’s Day lighting scheme. Sage Francis stood on Benny’s other side, her back stiff and her attention riveted on the stage—presumably so that she wouldn’t have to pay any attention to her date, good-looking but incredibly jerky Drew Gately. He was standing so close, Callie had a feeling he was trying to make a move.

  “Tonight we celebrate love,” Mrs. Pritchard said, and the students immediately groaned and applauded in equal measure. Sage and Benny rolled their eyes at each other. Ryan Reynolds whispered something to Kara that made her smack him on his arm. Hard.

  “Come on…” Callie muttered under her breath. She shook her head when Alan offered her a drink from the Nalgene bottle he held in his hand. She had to stay focused. This was the moment she’d been waiting for.

  “Let’s start with our scavenger hunt,” Mrs. Pritchard said.

  “Boring!” a group of senior boys shouted in unison. Other kids laughed appreciatively.

  “Why don’t our contenders bring up their hearts, and we’ll start counting them, with or without the unnecessary commentary from the pean
ut gallery?” Mrs. Pritchard continued brightly, smiling out at the crowd. “Who will be the Waverly Sweet Heart winner this year? Can you stand the suspense?”

  For a moment, no one moved, though everyone started talking.

  “Is there anything lamer?” Sage asked with a sniff that made her almost white-blond hair bounce. In front of her, Emily Jenkins turned around, shaking her head in agreement.

  “Who would want to make such a big spectacle of themselves in front of the whole school?” she asked. “Can you imagine?”

  Callie could imagine. She was about to scream in anticipation when there was a ripple in the crowd. Easy was making his way toward the stage, holding his shoebox of hearts. His lean, muscled form was stunningly packaged in the Armani suit of her dreams—something that would have looked laughably out of place on the old, pre-military school Easy. It fit this version of Easy Walsh like a glove. Callie felt her heart swell. She could almost feel his kiss on her lips… and she closed her eyes for a moment as she imagined it.

  But when she opened them, she saw another figure moving toward the stage from the other side of the atrium. Brandon. Also in a sleek suit, and also holding a box.

  As both guys reached the stage, they looked at each other for a moment. No one else came forward with any hearts. No one else moved. Then, as if on cue, Easy and Brandon turned to find Callie in the crowd. There was a rustling sound, as everyone turned, too. A slight murmur ran through the throng. It was like she was suddenly thrust into a spotlight. Callie summoned up a weak smile.