Lucky (2 page)

“No.” She giggled. He actually smelled kind of nice, like pine trees. Or maybe it was just because they were in the woods. “But you’re wearing the same clothes as last night.”

“Yeah, I actually walked home.” Julian hitched up the sagging waist of his jeans. His boxers were light green with tiny white sheep printed on them. Jenny blushed at the sight of them. “There’s a shortcut through the gulley behind the Miller farm,” he explained.

“Oh,” she said simply, as if that explained it. Walking around all night by yourself? Boys were so weird. When she’d been with Easy, he’d painted in his special spot deep in the woods. And back home, whenever she’d walk through Sheep Meadow, it was littered with boys smoking joints and communing with the closest thing to nature New York could provide. Or maybe they just wanted to get buzzed. Jenny leaned against a mossy tree trunk, trying to act casual under Julian’s steady gaze. She didn’t care if she was getting her clothes a little dirty. He was worth it.

His eyes traced her lips. “The whole sky was lit red and white and blue from the lights on the police cars and fire trucks,” he added. “It was actually sort of cool.” Jenny smiled at his boyish enthusiasm. She loved the idea of him taking off on a whim, making his way through the woods in the dead of night, replaying their kiss in his mind as he walked.

“Julian,” she began, “have you seen your lighter recently?”

A strange look crossed his face. She could tell he’d already heard it had been found.

“You can just tell Dean Marymount you lost it,” she went on. When she first saw him that night in Dumbarton—hiding in the broom closet—he’d been looking for his Zippo. At least, that’s what he’d said. “If you tell them the truth, there’s no way you’ll get kicked out.”

Julian just shrugged and stared at something over Jenny’s head. She hoped a tarantula wasn’t crawling down the tree, about to make a nest in her curls. “I’m not too worried,” he finally answered. He took a step closer to Jenny, planting his hands against the tree trunk on either side of her so that she was trapped. Not that she minded. “I’ve got the cutest alibi on campus.” A grin curled the sides of his mouth.

Jenny immediately lost her train of thought, distracted again by the memory of their lips pressed together, alone in the dark. And a moment later, it was more than just a memory.

Email Inbox

From:
[email protected]

To:
Waverly Academy

Date:
Saturday, October 12, 10:15 A.M.

Subject:
Prospective Students

Dear Students, Faculty, and Staff,

As you’re probably aware, we have a number of prospective students visiting our campus this weekend. These visits are an important chance for prospective students to get a taste for Waverly Academy, and I trust everyone has been making the prospectives feel welcome. Thank you to all those Owls who have graciously taken on the role of host. Prospectives will be on campus until Wednesday in order to sit in on two full days of classes, so please continue your hospitality for the duration of their stay.

A special formal dinner will take place Monday night in the dining hall in honor of the prospective students. Dress according to code.

I also trust that the behavior of students over the next few days will be more restrained than it has been in the past few weeks.

Best,

Dean Marymount

Instant Message Inbox

RyanReynolds:
You and Kara, huh? So that’s why we’ve never hooked up!

BrettMesserschmidt:
No. That would be because I hate you. :)

RyanReynolds:
Oh.

Email Inbox

From:
[email protected]

To:
[email protected]

Date:
Saturday, October 12, 11:08 A.M.

Subject:
You okay?

Hey,

I know you’re still not talking to me, but I heard about the fire at the Miller farm and I wanted to make sure you were okay. I heard some other stuff, too, but don’t worry, I don’t believe a word of it—I know you. And I know you’re probably pretty upset that there are people talking about you or whatever. Let me know if you want to talk or anything.

Anyway, hope you’re well.

—J.

Instant Message Inbox

AlisonQuentin:
Hey sexy. Whatcha up to?

AlanStGirard:
Think I’ll stay in bed all day. Too much drama for me.

AlisonQuentin:
You hear about Julian’s Zippo? He doesn’t act like a pyro.

AlanStGirard:
Yeah, but I also heard Tinsley was hanging around the barn.

AlisonQuentin:
Thought guys liked girls w/ a wild side?

AlanStGirard:
Wild yes, pyro no.

AlisonQuentin:
In that case, meet me at the gazebo this afternoon. I’ll show you wild.

AlanStGirard:
For that, I’ll get out of bed. Or maybe you’d like to join me?

Brett Messerschmidt stared at the cover of her Latin textbook, the old Flaming Lips song “She Don’t Use Jelly” blasting from her iPod dock. The Doric columns on the cover stared back at her, and she wished she could close her eyes and transport herself back in time. Ancient Rome. The 1920s. Woodstock. Pompeii. Anywhere but Waverly Academy, circa now.

If only Heath had been the one responsible for spilling the beans about her and Kara to the whole world, she could’ve been angry instead of upset. She wanted to take it out on someone, anyone. Anyone but Kara, even though it was, technically, all Kara’s fault for telling Callie they’d been hooking up in secret. She toyed with the idea of being mad at Callie for being a lightweight with a penchant for drunken gossip, but that didn’t exactly satisfy her, either.

She leaned back in her uncomfortable wooden desk chair, pressing her vertebrae against the hard wooden slats. She really liked Kara, but were they, like, a
couple
now? Would that make them Waverly’s token lesbian couple? She envisioned a Waverly tour guide leading a flock of prospective students and their parents around campus and pointing at Brett’s window. “Welcome to Dumbarton, proud home of Waverly’s only lesbians!”

She let her forehead rest against the cool surface of her desk, her hands gripping the short red pigtails she’d put her hair into that morning. She felt like Pippi Longstocking, except Pippi probably didn’t kiss girls. At least Tinsley had the decency to be gone. Brett had dragged her exhausted body out of bed this morning to be greeted by a pleasantly empty room, only a trace of Tinsley’s Yves St. Laurent Baby Doll hanging in the air.

“Hello?” Kara Whalen’s face peeked through the doorway. A pair of tortoiseshell cat-eye glasses magnified her wide hazel eyes as they nervously scanned the room. Her light brown hair just grazed her shoulders. “Tinsley around?”

“She’s out.” Brett sat up in her chair and twisted a pigtail around her finger.

Kara looked relieved. “I thought I heard her out on the quad.” She sat gingerly down on Brett’s bed, wearing a fitted gray
NYU
T-shirt that hugged her curves, and a pair of faded jeans.

“I’ve never seen you wear glasses before.” Brett pushed her Latin textbook away from her and turned toward Kara. “Very sexy-librarian.” She felt her face flush. Did she have to say
sexy
?

“Thanks.” Kara grinned and straightened the red bobby pin that was holding a lock of her silky brown hair away from her face. It reminded Brett of when she was little and used paper clips to hold back her dolls’ hair. “All the smoke made my eyes sting. I couldn’t get my contacts in this morning.”

Brett nodded. She didn’t want to think about last night anymore. She’d spent her first two years at Waverly afraid that everyone would find out she was the daughter of a plastic surgeon and grew up in a tacky McMansion in Jersey. Now her gold-plated, leopard-print past didn’t even seem like a big deal anymore. She smoothed out the wrinkles in her white Theory peasant shirt. There had been a fire. She had a
girl
friend. Her past was the least of her worries.

“I didn’t see you at breakfast.” Kara picked up a copy of
Absinthe
, Waverly’s art magazine, from Brett’s night table and flipped through the pages. Brett rarely ever read the magazine, but it was delivered in all of the students’ mailboxes, and she sort of liked to keep it around. She thought maybe it made her seem edgy, in a good way. But given recent events, she’d probably never need to convince anyone she was edgy again. Kara peeked at Brett over the top of her glasses.

Brett stood up and stretched. Her bare toes dug into the soft, mint green chenille rug. She’d purposely skipped breakfast, hoping to avoid all the rumors swirling in the dining hall. She was sort of amazed that Kara had wandered right into the lion’s den. “Did I miss anything?”

“Apple-cinnamon pancakes.” Kara studied the art section, flipping through the portfolio of abstract paintings. She smiled weakly at Brett.

“Did you find out anything more about the fire?” Brett asked. She was still standing in the middle of the room and wasn’t sure whether or not to sit down on the bed next to Kara. She would’ve sat down on Tinsley’s bed, except for the fact that (a) Tinsley was a raging bitch and (b) it was awkwardly far away. As soon as they’d been assigned to Dumbarton 121, Tinsley and Brett had pushed their beds to opposite ends of the room. She’d even considered hanging her baby blue seersucker-print Frette sheets from the ceiling to further divide the space.

“It’s all everyone is talking about.” Kara dropped the magazine on the bed and crossed her legs daintily. “People won’t shut up about Easy and Callie. Oh, and they found a lighter in the remains, with that guy Julian McCafferty’s initials on it. And some people think it was Tinsley who started it. Or the liquor store owner. I don’t know. It could have been anyone.”

Brett finally pushed the magazine out of the way and sat down on the silky fuchsia Indian-print comforter. A blue-and-white etching of a sailboat hung on the wall above them. Tinsley’s grandfather had sent it, and Brett had rescued it from the garbage. Of course, Tinsley hadn’t even bothered to open more than a corner of the package before tossing it.

Kara leaned in a little closer, and Brett could feel her warm breath tickle her skin. “I heard someone say they saw some boys from St. Lucius near the barn.”

“Really?” A chill ran through Brett at the mention of St. Lucius, and she sat up a little straighter. Jeremiah had e-mailed her this morning, telling her he’d heard about the fire … and that he’d heard “some other things.” What would he say if he found out that the rumors about her and Kara were true? And what was she possibly going to say in reply? She glanced over at her open iBook, as if it might hold the answer. She decided to wait to write back until she’d figured out what exactly was going on with Kara.

“What’s the matter?” Kara demanded. She stared at Brett, and Brett looked away, focusing on the piles of yellow and orange leaves on the quad outside her window. “Hey.” Kara placed her hand on Brett’s ankle. “It’s me. Remember?”

Brett felt herself soften under Kara’s touch. She leaned her head closer to Kara’s. They sat without saying anything for a while, and Brett again found herself drawn to the leaves outside. A yellow Frisbee flew into view. Benny Cunningham ran across the quad after it, laughing.

“I have an idea.” Kara’s hazel eyes perked up behind her glasses. “Forget this whole fire mess. How about we get into our pj’s and go watch movies in the common room? I’m in the mood for something totally cheesy and ridiculous … like
Girls Just Wanna Have Fun.
It’s so eighties, I love it.” Kara eyed Brett hopefully.

Brett nodded noncommittally, tracing a finger over the fuchsia paisley print on her comforter. Watching cheesy movies with Kara sounded like the perfect thing to do. Except … in the Dumbarton common room? In their pj’s? Wouldn’t everyone assume they’d just, like, spent the night together? She found a loose thread in the fabric of the comforter and pulled it a little, watching as the fabric bunched up around it. Would Kara be totally offended if she suggested hanging out in private instead?

Before she could say anything, the door swung open, knocking against the Degas print of ballet dancers on the wall behind it. Tinsley blew into the room, looking innocent in a baby blue oxford shirt and white eyelet skirt. Brett knew her roommate had dressed for calculated effect, because if there was anything Tinsley Carmichael
wasn’t,
it was innocent.

“Hope I’m not disrupting anything, girls—or should I say girl
friends
?” she sneered cattily. Her dark ponytail bobbed as she opened and closed her desk drawer, quickly pocketing something that Brett couldn’t see. She was gone again before Brett could even think of a nasty comeback to lob at her. The door slammed shut with a sound like a gunshot.

“Let’s go.” Kara stood, seemingly unfazed by Tinsley’s catty jeer.
“Girlfriend,”
she added with a teasing grin. She must have seen the dismayed look on Brett’s face, because her hazel eyes filled with concern. “Oh come on, are you really going to let
her
get to you?” She emphasized the word
her,
as if Tinsley were some sort of disagreeable pest that had yet to be exterminated.