Fall For You [The Jane Austen Academy Series #1] (6 page)

Anne handed Lizzie her recorder with Rick’s interview. Lizzie pressed Play to listen to what she soon understood to be the most mortifying series of stilted questions and answers about Rick and his class schedule.

“Do you have any experience doing interviews?” Lizzie asked.

Anne nodded, plucking an imaginary piece of lint off her sleeve. “You’ll recall I used to chair all the student applicant interviews.”

“Then what explains this disaster?” Lizzie pressed the recorder closer to her ear to continue listening—like that would make the interview any better. Once he’d finished describing his sixth-period syllabus, the conversation died away so that all she could hear were the noises in the classroom—clacking keyboards, squeaking chairs.

Rick’s voice cut through the silence, “Are you well, Anne?” Followed by Anne’s ragged intake of breath and, “Yes.”

“And your family?”

“Quite well, thank you.”

Followed by silence, then finally, Rick saying, “You look well, too. Still.”

Lizzie pushed the recorder directly to her ear, not believing what she was hearing, but then all she heard was the recording of Georgiana calling her name. The recording switched off.

“You know him,” Lizzie said accusingly. “You already know Rick.”

Anne nodded, but her face was completely closed off—there was a story there, Lizzie knew it. “You knew him a lot,” she pressed.

Anne looked past her, out the window, but nodded again. Lizzie looked down to Rick’s bio, studying it more carefully this time. “His family is from Merrywood. You attended the same middle school.” Lizzie glanced up at Anne, who hadn’t looked at her since staring out the window.

For once, instead of blurting out her question, Lizzie bit it back. Anne’s eyes had misted.

Could Rick and Anne have been an item? Had he dumped her? Cheated on her? A guy who looked like Rick had no end of options—still, he’d gone on to the Naval Academy, which implied strength of character. What had happened between them?

“You’ll have to do the interview again,” Lizzie said.

That comment did bring Anne’s eyes back to hers. “Could you interview him instead? The dance is so soon, and we both know journalism is your passion, not mine.”

“What is your passion?” Lizzie asked suddenly. For the amount of time Lizzie had spent thinking about Anne—about how unfair her nepotism had been, about how oblivious she seemed to the struggles of the other students—she knew very little about her.

“I don’t know,” Anne said with a helpless shrug.

Lizzie felt a tug of sympathy. Anne’s school, her home, had been sold out from underneath her, her gorgeous ex-boyfriend was wandering the halls and would no doubt be dating the hottest girl in school—although Lizzie secretly felt that was still Anne—by the end of the week, and Anne had no idea what she wanted out of life. Lizzie, at least, knew what she wanted. She wanted Georgetown. She wanted the White House.

“Do you at least know what you want for dinner?” Lizzie said with a smile.

Anne grinned.

Lizzie remembered she was supposed to meet Ellie later—but she could eat a quick meal with Anne, just a little nibble, and then her real dinner with Ellie before they went to their tree.

* * *

The dining-hall door under the
We Will Be Heard
motto was just swinging open as Anne and Lizzie walked up the pebble path. Lizzie glanced at Anne, who finally seemed to be breathing normally. The sun was setting, casting colorful beams through all the stained glass windows and doors of the Academy. Lizzie felt it again—that sense of ease. That sense that she was home.

“Left or right?” Anne asked as they filtered into the cafeteria.

“Left or right what?” Lizzie asked.

“Bed. We haven’t really talked about it.”

Lizzie laughed—how weird that they were going to be roommates. She wouldn’t have imagined it earlier this morning. It was as if her whole life had changed in a single day. “You know, I’m used to the left side, but maybe it’s time for something new.”

“Yeah, maybe we should roll both beds onto the left side and push the desks to the other.”

“We should!” Lizzie agreed, laughing. She’d never seen this side of Anne before. She kind of liked it.

They each pulled a tray off the pile and stood in the buffet line. Lizzie could smell roasted chicken, bubbling marinara sauce, and the yeasty smell of freshly baked bread.

“How was your interview with Dante, by the way?” Anne asked.

Lizzie snorted and grabbed a plate to fill up on salad.

“Not good?”

“Dante is just so…so
ugh
,” Lizzie said, stabbing a few tomato slices to add to her salad. “Did you see how he treated his sister? He wouldn’t even let her talk for herself. And the way she answered when I asked her who she was? That she was his sister? He’s clearly so overbearing.”

“I think he’s just overprotective.” Anne grabbed a chicken leg with a sigh. “Remember when we used to actually have good food?”

“Yeah,” Lizzie said. “At least the salad is the same.”

They turned around to head for the bench seats when Lizzie stopped in her tracks. There at the end of the line, Emma and Ellie were standing side by side, laughing.

Ellie looked up, saw her and froze. She looked over to Emma then walked over quickly to her.

“Hey,” Ellie said. “Sorry—I was kind of hungry.”

“Oh.”

“You, too, apparently,” Ellie said, a little accusingly.

Lizzie glanced down at her salad. “Yeah, just a little. But I was still going to eat a real dinner later.”

“I was thinking I might have to study later,” Ellie said. “They were finally able to add an advanced calc class, but the reading is really heavy.”

“Maybe later, then,” Lizzie said.

“Yeah, later,” Ellie said.

Ellie ran back to Emma and Lizzie turned to find Anne waiting for her. They took their seats, but she wasn’t hungry at all.

Neither of them had mentioned the tree.

Chapter Five

“Quick, now!” Lizzie sucked in a breath.

Ellie yanked the fabric of the muslin Empire-waist dress at its shoulders to try to force the pearl button into its hole, but failed. “One more time?”

Lizzie let out a grunt of frustration. “Safety-pin me.”

“No need,” Emma said, breezing in through the door to Ellie’s room looking like a beautiful Greek goddess.

“How did you do that?” Lizzie stared in wonder at Emma’s hair. Twenty minutes ago when she’d left, Emma had sported her usual chic blond bob cut. Now she could play Rapunzel with those artfully layered long curls.

“Extensions. Now lie on the bed.”

Lizzie flopped onto her back.

“How am I supposed to reach the buttons like that?” Emma twirled her finger. “Flip over.”

“Are you sure there wasn’t a larger size dress available?” Lizzie wouldn’t put it past Emma to make her look bad—here she was trying to get into Ellie’s good graces by being friendly and helpful with the dance. Emma had been down the hall styling hair and doling out accessory advice.

“Not one that would match with our dresses. Besides, you are this size,” Emma insisted. “Your body just doesn’t realize it yet.”

Lizzie grumbled as she flipped onto her stomach. Emma dug her knee into the small of her back. “Oomph!” Then in one quick movie, Lizzie heard the zipper sing up and felt the material hug snugly around her ribcage. She flipped onto her back and stood carefully. Before she could fasten the pearl button, Emma had leaned in and was doing it for her.

“Gorgeous,” Emma said. “Isn’t she, Ellie?”

“You look amazing,” Ellie agreed.

“We all do.” Emma reached for her camera on her desk. “Come on, group picture.”

“Thanks…both of you.” Lizzie had to admit they all did look very ladylike in their matching white dresses—each with a distinctive trim or lacing on the sleeve. Emma pulled them all together, and as nice as she was being, Lizzie still inserted herself between Ellie and Emma as they posed, waiting for the camera’s timer.

After the flash, Emma picked up her camera to check the photo. “Postworthy,” she said. “I’ll email it to you so you can use it in the
Gazette
.”

“Um, thanks.” Lizzie had forgotten she should be covering the event for the paper since she had spent so much of the week stewing over her other assignment to feature Dante, Josh, and Rick. She’d been doing follow-up interviews with their family and friends. She hadn’t been able to get in touch with Dante’s parents, Josh’s parents kept mistaking her for paparazzi, and Rick’s mom had insisted in coming in for an in-person interview.

“Are we ready?” Lizzie asked when Ellie plopped back onto her bed.

Emma sat at her desk to apply her fake eyelashes. “For what?” Emma asked.

“To go.” Lizzie gestured to the door. Was she missing something? Hadn’t she just endured an hour of getting ready for a dance that they were already thirty minutes late for—Anne was probably freaking out and thinking Lizzie had abandoned her.

“Not without our escorts,” Emma said.

Lizzie met Ellie’s eyes and mouthed
Escorts?

Ellie shrugged.

There was a knock on the door, but before Lizzie had a chance to ask who it was, it swung open.

Dressed in a black tuxedo, Edward spun once in the doorway and stopped with a
ta-da
. “Ladies, your penguin has arrived.”

“There were no tuxedos in the Regency period,” Lizzie said.

Edward made a forlorn puppy-dog expression and batted his ridiculously long eyelashes at her. Lizzie began to feel like she had actually kicked a puppy. “Oh fine, you look fine,” she said, relenting.

“You look perfect,” Emma said, standing and extending her arm to Edward.

“As do you, Blondies,” Edward said as he gave Emma’s hand an overly demonstrative smack of the lips. He gave Lizzie a wink. “You, too.”

“Who are the blondies?” Lizzie asked.

“You know,” Edward said. “Ellie. Emma. Both blond roommates. Blond E’s. Blondies.”

“You guys have a duo nickname?” Lizzie asked Ellie, not bothering to hide the accusatory note in her voice.

“It’s not a big deal,” Ellie said.

“Yeah,” Lizzie said, irritated. “It’s
nothing
.” Of course Ellie wouldn’t think it was a big deal. Ellie never thought anything was a big deal. Aliens could land on the White House lawn, and Ellie’s expression wouldn’t change.

Lizzie loved Ellie’s easygoing nature, how whenever Lizzie was ranting about bad water pressure in the bathrooms (which had been changed thanks to her expose) or lack of diversity in the school’s library books (another thing that had changed thanks to her), Ellie always had a calming, positive thing to say. But now Lizzie was beginning to wonder if Ellie thinking that nothing was a big deal meant Ellie didn’t care about her at all.

“I can come up with a nickname for you, too,” Edward offered.

“A nickname for who?”

Lizzie’s head snapped up at the sound of his voice—Dante’s voice—coming from behind Edward in the doorway.

“For Lizzie,” Edward said, stepping aside.

It almost seemed like Dante had to duck his head to step into the room, and Lizzie begrudgingly admitted he looked every bit as dapper and dashing as a Regency lord would look in his morning coat. Dante’s eyes met hers and he stilled, studying her, his lips opening as whatever he had been about to say died on them.

Lizzie felt her neck grow hot. Why was he looking at her like that? Had Emma messed up her hair and makeup? Or was he thinking he didn’t want her there? That had to be it. Why else would he be staring at her?

“Earth to Dante,” Edward said as he punched Dante’s shoulder.

Dante broke his gaze away and turned to his friend. “You were saying…a nickname for Lizzie?”

“I don’t answer to nicknames,” Lizzie said quickly.

“Isn’t Lizzie a nickname?” Dante asked.

Lizzie scowled. “Let’s go already.”

“We’re missing an escort,” Emma said as she took Dante’s arm.

Lizzie was starting to feel a little sick to her stomach. Between how weird things felt with Ellie, and Dante somehow being a part of this group, and now the way he looked at her, she didn’t want to be here. Which was unfair—this was her school, her haven, and she didn’t even feel welcome.

“Rick is running a little late,” Edward said.

“I don’t need an escort.” Lizzie barreled out the door and down the hall, forcing her tears away.

* * *

Before Lizzie even reached the open gymnasium doors, she heard the swell of string music wafting out into the night air. Combined with the chirping crickets, the warm summer night, and the smiles of her classmates, her frantic heartbeat finally slowed to a reasonable pace. She picked up her muslin gown so the hem wouldn’t drag over the grass as she walked the remaining hundred yards into the gym.