Notorious Read online

  “Nah, she likes you.”

  “How can you tell?”

  Easy scratched his head. “Well, I can’t tell for sure.” He shrugged. “But she likes girls who are nice to me.” He raised his eyebrows at her, causing her to forget all about being afraid of Credo. “So, you’d better be nice to me.”

  Right, she thought. Like there was any danger of not being nice.

  Easy took the helmet from Jenny’s hands and placed it on her head gently, then flattened his hand on top of it and rocked it back and forth and from side to side. Jenny could feel her scalp moving with it. “What are you doing?”

  “Making sure it fits.” He took his hand off her head and bent his knees so that his eyes were level with hers. He examined how the helmet fit around her head, his face just inches from hers, so she could practically count his eyelashes if she wanted to. His eyes finally met hers. “You look cute,” he said softly.

  “How come you’re not wearing a helmet?”

  “Because I’m not worried about me,” he said sweetly, though Jenny still thought it was unfair. She’d pictured her hair flying out behind her in the wind, but maybe next time. “Are you ready to get on?”

  “Already?” she yelped, terrified.

  “You want to stand here talking all day?”

  Jenny looked up at him. “Sort of.”

  “Come on. It’s fun, and you’ll be fine. Credo knows what she’s doing, and she’s not going to break into a gallop or anything.” Easy gave her a few more basic instructions and encouragements, but she could tell he was one of the learn-by-doing sort of teachers, so Jenny forced herself to take deep breaths and just get on. He held his hands together to give her a leg up, and she swung her leg over Credo’s back awkwardly, almost kicking Easy in the head with her boot. She wriggled in the sleek leather saddle, getting her bearings. “Are you comfortable?” Easy asked, adjusting the stirrups and placing the reins in her hands.

  “I feel like I’m riding an elephant,” she said with a giddy laugh. Being on a horse made her feel so … tall!

  Easy hopped onto Marymount’s horse. “You ready to start moving now?”

  Deep breaths, deep breaths. “Yes,” Jenny squeaked.

  “Then just give Credo a little squeeze with your calves. And just sort of let your hips follow her movements. It’ll fall into place.” Easy started off on Diana, and Jenny pressed her lower legs gently against Credo’s sides. She gasped when Credo started to move.

  “Am I trotting?” she asked eagerly.

  “Not yet.” Easy laughed. “Are you sure you’re ready for it?”

  Their eyes met across the grass, and he kicked his horse into a trot, pulling away from her quickly. “Come on!” he cried, glancing back over his shoulder, his curls blowing in the light breeze.

  “I’ll be extra nice to Easy if you’re nice to me,” she whispered to Credo before squeezing her legs and feeling the horse lurch forward beneath her. “Whoa,” she gasped.

  An hour later they were back at the stable, Jenny’s legs aching with effort. She couldn’t believe how much fun it was, riding the enormous, scary-sweet Credo through the fields, even if Jenny wouldn’t go faster than a trot, no matter how much Easy encouraged her. The sky was cloudy when they started out, but it quickly darkened, and fat raindrops had begun to fall from the menacing gray clouds. They rode into the stable, which was clean and dark and smelled like Easy, only much more concentrated.

  Easy slid off his horse and led her into a stall before returning to Jenny. “Did you like it?” he asked, though he knew the answer from the wild, breathless smile on her face.

  “I see what the big deal is now.” She unhooked her boot from the stirrup, and dismounted a little more gracefully than she’d mounted. “That was so much fun.” Her legs were shaking a little from the strain, and as she pulled off her helmet, she realized her hair felt sweaty and must be plastered to her head, but she didn’t care.

  “Makes you realize you’re alive, doesn’t it?” Easy remarked as he pulled off Credo’s saddle and hung it on a giant metal hook. He led Credo back into her stall, a huge, straw-filled enclosure.

  “It makes me realize other things too,” she responded obliquely, feeling bold. She felt her blood racing through her veins, her adrenaline at an all-time high. On Credo, she felt like she could race across the world, and now, standing on her own two legs again, she felt like she could do whatever she wanted. And what she wanted was to kiss Easy.

  “Like what?” He cocked his eyebrows, staring at her. Jenny didn’t answer. He was moving closer, ever so slowly. She wanted to capture each individual moment leading up to this. She took in the smells of the stable. The noise of Credo’s breathing. The beginnings of rain trammeling against the metal roof. The crunch of straw beneath her boots. The way her legs were shaking. The way Easy touched her on the chin and tilted it upward. And the way he brought his lips toward hers and kissed her, at which moment she stopped thinking about anything at all besides the feeling of kissing the boy she never thought she would ever kiss.

  To: [email protected]

  From: [email protected]

  Date: Sunday, September 15, 6:58 p.m.

  Subject: Country living

  Dad,

  You’re not going to believe this, but I went horseback riding today. As in, I rode a horse—an enormous, ten-ton creature with really big teeth. And it wasn’t even scary! Well, it was a little scary, but I had an expert helping me along. A very cute expert. But I won’t say anything else about that now … I don’t want to jinx anything.

  I’m having fun here—got my first A+, had an assist in the last field hockey game, and have been meeting tons of cool people. It’s a little weird not having uniforms to wear to class every day. (It makes it a little harder to get ready in the morning!) I still feel a little like a new girl, trying to figure out all the unspoken rules. But I’m getting the hang of it.

  How’s the apartment without me and Dan? Is Vanessa around enough to keep you company? Tell her if she wants to paint it orange and fill my closet with the entire Barneys Co-op, that’s fine.

  I miss you like crazy. Tell Dan he could send his little sister an email once in a while—who knows, maybe she even misses him!

  Your favorite daughter,

  Jenny

  To: [email protected]

  From: [email protected]

  Date: Monday, September 16, 9:45 a.m.

  Subject: Meeting

  Dear Mr. Walsh,

  I apologize for the late notice, but I trust you will receive this in time. Please do me the honor of stopping by my office today before lunch.

  Best,

  EFD

  20

  A WAVERLY OWL KNOWS HIS ADVISER HAS HIS BEST INTERESTS IN MIND. RIGHT?

  You would have thought Easy was two hours late rather than five minutes, judging from the look on Dalton’s face when he opened the door. “Sorry I’m late,” Easy said, wondering why he seemed to always be apologizing to this guy.

  “Sit down.” Dalton nodded toward a shiny leather chair while he stood behind his desk, looking like someone in an acting class who had just been instructed to do “stern.”

  Three hours ago, Easy had been sitting at the conference table in his European history seminar, yawning uncontrollably and taking enormous sips from a triple-shot latte, trying not to think about Jenny. He’d been too wired to sleep last night and had stayed up playing GameCube until three in the morning, so he could barely drag his ass out of bed when the alarm went off at seven. He was impressed with how quickly Jenny got used to riding Credo. He was afraid that she’d be too terrified to do much more than pet her, but she hopped right on, and even though she looked completely terrified, she managed to trot for almost forty-five minutes. God, she was sweet.

  Underneath the table, Easy checked his email on his phone, hoping for a note from Jenny telling him when they’d get together again. But instead, he had only a message from Eric Dalton asking him to com
e to his office before lunch. What the hell was that about?

  He had assumed that Dalton just wanted him to check in since he was still on probation from getting caught in Callie’s room after hours. That seemed so long ago now. He didn’t even remember that as the night he and Callie had almost done it; he just remembered it as the first time he touched Jenny, when he sat on her bed piss drunk. She had smelled so good—like sleep and oranges and toothpaste—that he wanted to fall asleep next to her.

  Easy stared at Dalton. He’d always known the guy was shifty. Easy had seen the way Dalton interacted with girls. Like he couldn’t believe his luck, getting to be surrounded by so many gorgeous chicks who fawned over him, completely forgetting that they were off-limits to him. And he’d heard the rumors about him and Brett.

  “Easy?” Dalton clasped his hands together and spoke slowly as though he was talking to someone who was a little retarded. “Do you understand what probation means?”

  Easy pretended not to have heard Dalton’s patronizing tone, wondering if this was some sort of test. Maybe Dalton just needed to feel like a tough guy sometimes. “It means I don’t get to make any more mistakes or I’m kicked out.”

  “Thank you.” Dalton leaned back in his chair, his elbows on the arms and his fingers making a temple. “I have to tell you that I’ve received several reports of you breaking your probation.”

  “Breaking it?” Easy asked incredulously. “How? I haven’t done anything. Who told you I did?”

  “We’ve gotten several reports,” Dalton repeated, unfazed, “that you’ve been skipping classes.”

  “Oh, yeah? From who?” Easy thought back to the day when he met Jenny out in the woods for the painting project. Her last period was a free period that day, and he’d been so eager to get together with her, he’d skipped his AP Art History lecture. But it was a giant class, held in the Berkman-Meier auditorium in the dark, and Professor Johnson acted like his students thought it was a privilege to be in his lecture and never bothered to take attendance. If the professor didn’t bust him, who would have?

  “Anonymous.” Dalton was clearly acting tough because he knew he had nothing on him. He started to relax a little. “And you can’t get expelled on a rumor—that’s true. But it’s going to mean that you’ve got another two weeks of in-house suspension, and if you get caught doing anything else wrong, well, I’m not going to be able to help you.”

  You’re the last guy I’d throw a rope to, Easy wanted to say. But he groaned instead, realizing the Boston trip was planned for next weekend. The Ritz, Jenny, Jenny in some kind of sexy costume—it all sounded so great. “I don’t get it—this doesn’t make any sense. I didn’t do anything. Can’t you just give me a break?”

  “Rules are rules. You knew what probation meant. You should have been smarter.”

  “Rules are rules,” Easy repeated thoughtfully. “Huh. That sounds funny, coming from you.” Easy spoke evenly, watching Dalton’s face for a reaction. He took a job at a small private boarding school and within the first week tried to bag one—or more—of the students? In Kentucky, you’d get taken out back and beaten until you understood how to be a gentleman. And here he was, trying to be all disciplinarian and self-righteous. Easy looked at the ERIC DALTON name placard on his desk and realized how easily he could turn the ERIC into PRICK with a little white latex paint.

  The room fell completely silent for several long, awkward moments while Easy wondered what Dalton would say. Finally Dalton cleared his throat. “I don’t know what you’re trying to imply, but if I were you, I’d stop worrying about other people and try to remain focused on not getting expelled.”

  “Why are you being such a hard-ass?” Dalton clearly had a weird need to feel powerful and knock down some lowly students in his way.

  “Why are you being such a dumb-ass? Waverly’s the best thing that happened to you, so you better get it together and realize that and stop pissing your future away.” It was the kind of thing one of Easy’s brothers would say to him, except all three of them were older than Dalton, and even if they treated Easy like a lazy kid, they weren’t nearly as condescending as Dalton was. What was this guy’s deal, anyway?

  “Thanks for the advice, adviser.” Easy shook his head and stood up to go. “I’ve got to get to lunch—I don’t want any reports to come in that I missed it.”

  To: [email protected];

  [email protected];

  [email protected];

  [email protected];

  [email protected];

  [email protected];

  [email protected];

  [email protected]

  From: [email protected]

  Date: Monday, September 16, 5:43 p.m.

  Subject: Le initiation

  My dearest Café Society lovelies,

  Initiation Evening Pizza Soiree TONIGHT. Essential for all who wish to stay in the society’s good graces and attend next weekend’s tête-à-tête in Boston. Dumbarton 303, 8 p.m. Be there.

  Mr. Pardee, aka Señor Swanky, purchased tickets to the philharmonic tonight. (He sent Mrs. Pardee flowers too—sounds like he’s trying to smooth something over!) The happy couple won’t be home until well after midnight. Thank you, Sage, for your diligent snooping!

  We will be ordering in from our favorite pizza place, Ritoli’s, of course.

  Please note: Dress code is short, tight, and heart-attack-inducing.

  Decadently yours,

  T

  21

  WHEN IN ROME, A SMART OWL THINKS TWICE BEFORE DOING AS THE ROMANS DO.

  “What do you think the guys do in their club?” Callie poured some vodka into her Waverly mug filled with Country Time lemonade and stirred it with a plastic spoon. She stood at the window where the makeshift bar was set up and stared out at the dark quad, still only half dressed in her black slip skirt and white lace corset. With no makeup on, she looked like a naughty French maid.

  “Who knows.” Brett flicked her clove cigarette at the gold-trimmed Limoges teacup she was currently using as an ashtray. She missed, and gray ash crumbled onto the floor.

  Jenny was flipping through her drawers absentmindedly, occasionally taking a sip from her insulated Waverly cup decorated with maroon and gold owl silhouettes and filled with the spiked lemonade. Dumbarton 303 was, for the first time, as clean as it had been the day they all arrived. The girls had put away all their clothes and books, cleared off their desks, and pushed their beds back against the walls. They propped up pillows, vacuumed, and crisscrossed strings of red Chinese lanterns from the ceiling, purchased that morning from the art store in Rhinecliff. Tinsley’s iPod was playing through her “pre-party” playlist.

  “All I want to do is have some fun …” Sheryl Crow croaked lustily.

  “I don’t know if I have anything exactly heart-attack-inducing.” Jenny turned toward the other girls. This was what boarding school was supposed to be like—hanging out with her roommates, drinking spiked lemonade from plastic mugs and ordering pizzas, talking about boys and maybe dancing around a little. She tried to ignore the pit that was forming in her stomach, growing bigger and bigger every time she thought about how she’d lied to Callie and Tinsley about Easy. “What should I wear?”

  “Oh, come on,” Callie scoffed. “All you have to do is show a little cleavage.”

  “Yeah, please.” Brett sat up. She was already dressed in a flimsy black C&C tank top that tied above her right shoulder, leaving her left shoulder bare and dramatic looking. “I could have the greatest push-up bra in the world, but there’s just not that much to push up.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Jenny squealed. “You do not want these.” She pointed to her chest. “Every time I put something on, I have to wonder if it makes me look like a porn star. Do you know what I’d give to be able to wear that tank top? Or to not have to wear a bra if I didn’t feel like it?” Brett and Callie giggled. “I’d be jiggling all over the place, l
ike a … bunch of water balloons.”

  Callie wrinkled her nose and slipped a pair of dangling jade earrings in her ears. “Ew. That’s awful.”

  “Tell me about it.” Jenny decided on a black sleeveless Raves T-shirt with strategically placed cutouts designed to show skin in only the right places. With her short Juicy Couture jean skirt, she felt very punk rock.

  “Are you guys almost ready?” Tinsley burst into the room wearing a turquoise tube dress, the kind Jenny always saw in Victoria’s Secret catalogs—the ultra-clingy, revealing kind that could only be worn by supermodels and girls lucky enough to have curves in exactly the right spots and not an ounce of fat in any of the wrong spots. Clearly Tinsley was one of those people. Her eyelids were covered in gold shimmer, hoop earrings as big as apples hung from her lobes, and she wore a pair of jeweled Giuseppe Zanotti flat sandals on her feet. Wow. Was she even human? Jenny looked at herself and Brett and Callie, all dressed in black, and then back to Tinsley’s bright blue dress.

  “Nice dress, Tinsley,” she heard herself saying. She hadn’t said much to Tinsley since, well, she’d met her, but screw it. The spiked lemonade was going to her head, and she was feeling a little brave. So what if Tinsley was the queen of Waverly? She’d kissed Easy Walsh!

  “Why, thank you.” Tinsley gave her a throwaway smile, barely looking at her as she walked over to the floor lamp and tossed a dark purple handkerchief over the light, bathing the room in violet.

  “Knock knock.” Benny Cunningham pushed through the doorway with Sage Francis right behind her. “Are we late?” She was carrying two bottles of bordeaux in one hand and one of those rabbit-shaped corkscrews in the other. “Courtesy of Daddy Cunningham—he just sent these in a back-to-school care package.”

  “My father just sends me newspaper clippings,” Jenny piped up, forgetting about her new Treo for a second.