Devious Page 7

  “You didn’t tell us there were going to be guys here,” Celine hissed, leaning forward from one of the couches in her gray Waverly track pants and fleece sweatshirt. “I just came from Pilates. I look like shit.” Callie glanced over her shoulder at Brandon, who was pretending not to listen.

  “It’s okay, sweetie.” Benny Cunningham, who wore her pearl pendant even to field hockey practice, nudged Celine in the ribs. “True love doesn’t care about sweat.”

  “So, does that mean you guys believe in true love?” Callie broke in, eager to get the meeting on track. She slunk into an armchair and crossed her legs at the knee. She imagined herself leading a talk show and used her best Tyra Banks voice.

  A chorus of girls answered immediately in the affirmative. “Um, of course!” Verena Arneval pushed her short, pixieish hair off her forehead. “It might not all be like The Princess Bride, but it’s got to be out there, right?”

  “Do you believe in love at first sight?” Callie asked, chewing on her pen. She was trying really hard not to think of Easy. She’d known him before they’d starting dating, of course, since Waverly was small. And she’d thought he was cute and sexy and arty, but it wasn’t love at first sight or anything. More like an instant chemical reaction, the moment he touched her. After that, they couldn’t keep their hands off each other, but things were never merely physical. It was like they had this deep, almost mystical connection—and despite their completely obvious differences, they both felt it.

  “Definitely,” Jenny spoke up. She hadn’t meant to be the first person to answer, but she’d been thinking about Isaac, the way their eyes had met across the crowded chapel. Maybe it wasn’t necessarily love—not yet, at least—but it was something. “Doesn’t everyone?” she asked, leaning against a fat pillow in the corner of the couch.

  “No way,” Kara Whalen interjected. Callie eyed her carefully. Kara had an interesting romantic résumé: after having a brief girl-fling with Brett, she’d started dating Heath Ferro, the self-proclaimed biggest player at Waverly. “Or, at least, it’s overrated. Maybe there’s a connection—but don’t you have to know someone before you fall in love?”

  “I don’t know.” Benny bit her pearly pink lips. “I think it’s totally possible to know someone for years, and then one day… you just sort of see them in a different light.” She glanced, not so subtly, toward the camera, fluffing up her hair.

  “That’s so boring,” Celine announced, snatching an Oreo from the platter Callie had set on the coffee table. She took a tiny nibble, then looked up at the camera. As if suddenly remembering that the chocolate cookie might glom on to her teeth, she set it down on the table. “Of course there’s love at first sight—maybe it’s just not literally, you know, the first sight. But yeah—haven’t we all had that moment where you look up and meet some guy’s eye, and there’s just this amazing jolt of connection?”

  “But isn’t that just lust?” Rifat Jones, the gangly captain of the girls’ volleyball team, shifted in her chair, pulling her sweat-dampened hair into a ponytail. Her Adidas gym bag sat at her feet. “How can you fall in love with someone you don’t know?”

  Verena batted her eyelashes at the camera. “That’s the best way to do it,” she said, running her bloodred fingernails through her curls. The other girls giggled and adjusted their hair, almost collectively. Callie bit the inside of her cheek. It was weird that all these girls who showed up practically in their pajamas would be so concerned with how they looked on camera. Didn’t they realize that only Callie would be reviewing the footage? Maybe they thought it would be a part of her presentation, when all the Jan Plan projects were presented at the end of the month.

  “Do you think it can only happen once? That people only have one true love?” Callie’s heart pounded as she asked the question. Though she didn’t want to admit it, this was what she most wanted to know—and kind of why she’d come up with this project in the first place. Was there hope for her after Easy? Or did she just happen to peak early in the love department? Was she destined to spend the rest of her life alone?

  “No,” Sage Francis announced, sounding kind of cranky. She glanced back at the camera, too, giving it a funny look. “But the first one is always the hardest to forget, right?”

  Callie glanced over her shoulder. Brandon was leaning against the end table, looking bored, his T-shirt gaping away from his stomach and revealing a sliver of squash-toned abs. It was then that Callie realized: the girls weren’t interested in the camera, they were interested in Brandon. Sage, who’d dated Brandon a few months ago before abruptly dumping him, seemed particularly interested in getting his attention. It was so weird. Brandon stopped shaving and got a girlfriend, and suddenly all the girls were sneaking glances and sticking their chests out at him.

  Now that Callie had figured out what was going on, it seemed ridiculously obvious. She stuck to her list of questions, but as they began to get more personal, the girls took longer to answer, glancing up at Brandon for cues. Callie felt like a scientist who realized her experiment had been contaminated. These girls were clearly not being honest—they were just trying to look good in front of a guy. And Brandon, no less.

  After a chorus of girls agreed that true love was something that almost always happened to a girl in high school, Callie took a deep breath. Her irritation grew when Benny announced that she could only fall in love with a musician—Brandon, of course, played the violin in the Waverly orchestra. Even more annoying was when, apropos of nothing, Celine said she always found herself attracted to guys with golden brown eyes, a feature, not coincidentally, that Brandon shared.

  That was it. Not only were these lying harpies totally ruining her experiment, but if Brandon was going to be interested in anyone in this room, it would obviously be Callie. He’d been in love with her practically forever, and even if he wasn’t at this exact moment, it was only because he was distracted by his Swiss mountain girl. He’d called his relationship with Callie “ancient history,” but it wasn’t so long ago, was it?

  Before she knew what she was doing, she got to her feet and waltzed toward him. He was standing behind the camera, arms crossed over his chest.

  He looked up in surprise as Callie leaned toward him. “What’s up?” he asked under his breath. He wore a navy blue Ralph Lauren crewneck over a plain white T-shirt, looking sexier than ever. Was this Sebastian all over again? Was Callie only attracted to Brandon now because all the other girls were, too?

  Only one way to find out.

  The room grew noticeably quieter as the girls struggled to overhear Callie and Brandon’s conversation. Defiantly, she placed her hand on Brandon’s back and put her mouth close to his ear. She almost fainted at the familiar smell of his Acqua di Parma cologne.

  “How’s the camera working?” she drawled, making sure to let her Georgia accent sweeten her words. Brandon always used to say it made him weak in the knees.

  “The camera?” Brandon straightened up, a confused look on his handsome face. He shrugged his shoulders. “I think it’s fine.”

  “Excellent.” Callie tossed her hair over her shoulder and leaned down to look through the camera. She saw the eyes of the girls focused firmly on her. Celine’s arms were crossed over her chest, and she had that pinched, irritated look on her face she always got whenever someone stepped between her and a guy.

  Callie stared right back, a smug smile twitching at the corners of her lips. Suddenly, nothing seemed more important than showing these girls that Brandon was her partner. And Callie wasn’t positive, but she thought she’d caught a glimpse of something familiar in Brandon’s eyes—something that said maybe he wasn’t totally immune to her charms.

  Maybe ancient history wasn’t so ancient, after all.

  Email Inbox

  From: BrettMesserschmidt@waverly.edu

  To: CallieVernon@waverly.edu

  Date: Wednesday, January 5, 3:34 P.M.

  Subject: Re: The Science of Love

  Hey Cal,

&n
bsp; Sorry I couldn’t make it to your interview session today—I got caught up in my project with Chrissy. But I’d still love to help—let me know if you need someone else to interview later.

  BTW, you’re going to love this—like four girls have asked me if there’s anything going on between you and Brandon. And they all seemed pretty jealous. HA!

  Xo

  B

  Instant Message Inbox

  JennyHumphrey: Still interested in taking that walk? Maybe after dinner?

  IsaacDresden: You cashing in that rain check already?

  JennyHumphrey: It seems like such a shame to work all day….

  IsaacDresden: Exactly. Why don’t you meet me at the field house at 7? Dress warmly, okay?

  JennyHumphrey: Uh-oh. What do U have in mind?

  IsaacDresden: Just a walk in the winter wonderland.

  12

  A WAVERLY OWL SHOULD NOT OBSESS OVER THE PAST—OR PAST GIRLFRIENDS.

  “What do you think about this?” Chrissy asked, wrapping a swatch of yellow floral fabric around a naked Barbie doll’s waist. “For Fantine?”

  Brett tilted her head so that her red hair swung down to her shoulders. “I think whoever plays Fantine better not be shy.”

  The two girls were holed up in a sunny upstairs alcove of Maxwell Hall on Wednesday night, their magazine clippings and swatches of fabric spread out across the slightly sticky coffee table. That morning, they’d climbed into Chrissy’s rickety orange Volkswagen Rabbit and spent hours at the fabric store in downtown Rhinecliff, rummaging through bins of sale scraps. “And that fabric looks like it belongs to Laura Ingalls.”

  “What, you don’t think we should go in the Little Stripper on the Prairie direction?” Chrissy asked innocently, twisting Barbie back and forth.

  “I think it’s weird that you keep a stash of Barbie dolls under your bed, by the way.” Brett leaned back in her chair and took a sip of her steaming latte. She tugged at the neck of her slim-fitting chocolate brown Joie turtleneck. “Don’t tell Heath Ferro—it’s probably some fantasy of his.”

  “They’re only naked until I can design clothes for them,” Chrissy insisted, adjusting Barbie’s arms and legs so that she posed in a very risqué handstand. “And besides—I bet Heath Ferro’s the kind of guy who has plenty of dolls of his own stashed under his bed.”

  Brett almost snorted foam up her nose as she and Chrissy dissolved into giggles. She hadn’t expected the project to be so fun. Last Jan Plan, she’d spent the month translating a bunch of Greek poetry with Celine Colista. Brett had never thought of herself as an artistic person before—she certainly wasn’t as creative as Jenny, who was always making amazing sketches of random things she’d seen, like a tipped-over garbage can or an apple core. But Chrissy, whose taste was a weird combination of classic and bizarre, made Brett feel like she was an essential part of this team. She was the straight foil to Chrissy’s out-there sensibilities.

  “You know what would look great for the soldiers—what about Nehru jackets?” Brett scooted to the edge of the couch and leaned forward over the coffee table. She flipped through one of their photography books until she found a picture of the Beatles, in their trip-to-India-to-find-Buddha-and-get-high days, wearing long, colorful jackets with banded collars.

  “You’re brilliant!” Chrissy squealed, pushing her bleached-blond hair behind her ears. “I think that’s awesome.” She leaned back and stared dreamily up at the slanted dark wood ceiling beams, as if she were already picturing it.

  “Mr. Shepard’s okay with this being unconventional, right?”

  “You think this is unconventional?” She tapped her forehead. “Once, when Seb and I were together, he took me to this off-off Broadway performance of Cats where all the actors were dressed up as dogs.” Chrissy laughed, as if reliving the experience. “They were still meowing and shit—it was bizarre.”

  Brett’s heart almost stopped beating. She felt her body slide back down into the leather couch. “When you and Sebastian were together?” she repeated.

  Seeing the look on Brett’s face, Chrissy dropped the Barbie doll she’d been holding. It clunked loudly against the worn hardwood floor. “Oh, you’re kidding. I thought you knew.” Her wide blue eyes widened with concern. “He didn’t tell you?”

  “No, he didn’t.” Suddenly Brett’s stomach dropped. Why wouldn’t Sebastian have told her about Chrissy? He knew about Jeremiah, after all. Brett had talked about the whole sordid saga of their relationship—in fact, she’d told Sebastian even before they’d starting dating, when he was still just her tutee. But why had they never had a conversation about his exes?

  “Well, probably because it wasn’t a big deal. It was only, like, a few months.” Chrissy shrugged apologetically. She looked really worried, and it touched Brett that she was so concerned about her feelings.

  But a few months in high school was like… five years in the real world. Everyone knew that. Brett and Jeremiah had really only been together for a few months, yet she’d been completely in love with him. And had almost slept with him.

  “I’m just kind of surprised he didn’t tell you,” Chrissy said softly.

  Brett leaned over and picked up the naked Barbie doll from the floor, just to have something to do with her hands. So the postcard on Chrissy’s wall hadn’t been totally platonic. She wondered what Sebastian had written on the back of it. Her throat tightened when she remembered what he’d said to her as he gave her the framed photograph of the Italian village. That he wanted to take her there someday. Had he said the same thing to Chrissy?

  Brett sucked in her cheeks and forced a smile to her lips. “Yeah, me too.”

  Instant Message Inbox

  BrettMesserschmidt: Can I ask U something? Discreetly?

  BennyCunningham: Sounds juicy! Ask away.

  BrettMesserschmidt: Do U know who Sebastian dated? Before me?

  BennyCunningham: Besides Chrissy?

  BrettMesserschmidt: Got that one. Anyone else?

  BennyCunningham: Hmmm. Saw him getting all cozy w/ Alexis O’Donnell at an open mic night.

  BrettMesserschmidt: That chick who’s always lugging around her acoustic guitar and singing “Kumbaya”? Seriously?

  BennyCunningham: Looked pretty serious. U should ask Devon Sprague. U know she keeps a little black book of all Waverly hookups to sell on eBay someday when we’re all rich and famous!

  BrettMesserschmidt: Perfect.

  13

  A WAVERLY OWL MUST OBTAIN PERMISSION TO LEAVE CAMPUS AFTER CURFEW.

  It was dark by the time Jenny stepped onto the unshoveled sidewalk that led to the Field House. She shivered in the cold night, rubbing the arms of her red Gap peacoat. Her small hands were covered by the cute white Anthropologie gloves Brett had given her for Christmas, but the thin angora wasn’t made for snowy days in upstate New York, and her fingers felt like icicles. At least her legs were warm under her Citizens jeans—she had on a pair of thick wool stockings. Totally worth it, even if they made her look a little thicker than normal. A cold breeze picked up, chilling Jenny’s face, and she wondered why she’d been so urgent to have her walk with Isaac tonight. It could have waited until tomorrow.

  But then she caught sight of him, sitting on the steps outside the Field House, a gray canvas messenger bag slung across the shoulder of his navy coat. A thick cream-colored wool scarf was tucked casually around his neck. He looked totally adorable, in a British-prep-school way. He straightened up when he saw her, the electric grin lighting up his face. Her stomach flipped.

  That was why she came. “I like your hat.”

  Jenny touched her head automatically. She was wearing her ancient navy-and-white cap with the snowflake pattern. It once had a pom-pom on top, which had since, thankfully, disappeared. “Thanks. A present from my grandma, about a million years ago.”

  Isaac stood up and dusted off his pants. “It’s still pretty cute.”

  Jenny felt her cheeks flush, which helped fight the cold. Not that
she was thinking about the cold anymore. “So, where do you want to go? I’ll be your tour guide.”

  “What’s this place called the crater that I keep hearing about?” Isaac asked, stuffing his gloved hands in his pockets. He raised his eyebrows mysteriously. “I heard something about animal sacrifices, and naturally I was intrigued.”

  “The crater?” Jenny repeated. The crater was, of course, a notorious place on campus for partying. It was just beyond the edge of campus, a big granite crater in the woods that felt like a kind of sunken living room when filled with Waverly students. Heath Ferro had thrown his big End-of-the-World party there a few months ago, when the trees were covered with golden autumn leaves. It would be kind of interesting to see it covered in snow. But it was late already, and it was a bad idea to be caught that far off campus, even during laid-back Jan Plan. Technically, students weren’t allowed to leave campus in the evenings without a special pass. Jenny was pretty sure that wanting to take a romantic moonlit walk with her new crush would not have qualified her for one. “Well, that’s kind of off-limits.”

  “I was joking about the animal sacrifices, by the way.” A look of worry crossed Isaac’s face. “Did it come out weird?”

  Jenny giggled. She breathed onto her frozen hands, hoping to bring feeling back to them. “It’s not that. I just don’t want to get in trouble.”

  “I’m sure it’ll be fine, right?” Isaac glanced around. “It’s not like we’re hauling a keg out there or anything. Although I did bring refreshments.” He pulled a stainless steel thermos from his bag. “Hot chocolate.”

  “Nonalcoholic, I hope.” Jenny giggled, watching her breath turn into vapor in the dark night air. Isaac somehow managed to make her feel nervous and comfortable at once. It was so sweet of him to bring hot chocolate. It made her think of the horse-drawn carriages that clomped through Central Park with happy couples snuggled under wool blankets.