Benny smiled at Jenny pityingly. “That sucks.” Benny’s brunette hair was French-braided down her back, and she was wearing what looked like a scarf wrapped around her chest, showing off her sleek stomach and tiny onyx belly button piercing. “Where should I open these?”
“When did you get that?” Tinsley demanded, pointing at the stomach jewelry, which Jenny thought looked like a tick had nestled into Benny’s stomach.
“Oh, this summer …”
“To impress a boy,” Sage said, wrapping her tan arms around Benny’s shoulders. Her platinum hair contrasted with Benny’s dark locks. “It didn’t work.” She kissed Benny on the cheek, leaving a mauve smudge.
“Bitch.” Benny shrugged Sage off. “Where’s the bar?”
“Over here.” Callie walked to the window seat that had been designated the beverage area and helped Benny open the wine bottle and pour the wine into the plastic cups Brett had stolen from the library bathroom. “These are for wine shots,” Callie joked, taking one of the filled cups and tossing the liquid down her throat.
“Slow down, girl.” Benny sipped at her own plastic cup. “Or you’re going to end up curled around the toilet tonight.”
Soon the other girls arrived, wearing the requisite short, tight outfits and bearing a six-pack of Diet Coke and a bottle of Bacardi Limón. Tinsley had switched the playlist to “party,” and the Black Eyed Peas came on. Jenny, Celine, and Brett kicked their shoes in the corner and started dancing. Jenny used to envy the girls who danced like they were practicing to be in someone’s music video, but then she realized she could do that too. Suddenly there was a knock at the door. The girls froze, but Tinsley, unafraid, turned the music down a notch and strode over to the door before they could even hide the rum bottle.
The door opened to a welcome sight: Angelo in a pair of well-worn Levi’s and a navy blue hooded sweatshirt, holding four boxes of sweet-smelling pizzas. Hello!
“You sneak!” Callie cried out, thinking they’d been busted. “I didn’t even know you ordered it yet!”
“Thank you, Angelo, for bringing this all the way up here for us. That’s very sweet. Could you put them on that table, please?” Tinsley indicated one of the suitcases they had covered with tapestries, and when Angelo headed in that direction, she casually closed the door. Jenny took a deep breath. She had a feeling that in Tinsley’s mind, the party was just starting.
“Can I get you a glass of wine? A rum and Coke?” Celine leaned toward Angelo and stroked the neck of the wine bottle suggestively. Was she really trying to win that bet?
“Yeah, um, I don’t know if I can really stay.” Angelo’s eyes wandered around the room, and he shuffled his feet nervously. “I’ve never been in one of the girls’ dorm rooms before. This is pretty sweet.”
“You really have to stay for a drink or two.” Callie pressed a spare Waverly mug filled with rum and Coke into his hand. “Or else you’ll hurt our feelings.” He stared at her, transfixed, and took the mug. She grinned triumphantly at Celine, who stuck out her tongue. Jenny couldn’t help hoping that maybe Callie would fall madly in love with Angelo. Then she wouldn’t mind who Easy was with.
“Is this what all your Monday nights are like here?” Angelo sat down on the floor next to another tapestry-covered suitcase. He still looked a little uncomfortable, like he really wanted to call his buddies and have them join him to protect him from the pack of rabid teenage girls.
“Sometimes we order Chinese.” Tinsley sat down next to Angelo, holding a paper plate with a gooey slice of mushroom-and-cheese pizza. She leaned back against the bed, and he dragged his eyes away from her and focused on his drink. He took an enormous gulp, wiping his full lips with the back of his hand.
“And sometimes we play games.” Callie sat down on the other side of Angelo, leaning into him. “Wanna play a game?”
Poor guy. He was probably thinking, Who the fuck are all these weird girls? Jenny was reminded of the scene in Monty Python and the Holy Grail (one of her brother’s favorite movies, although he was too much of a snob to admit it in front of anyone) where Sir Galahad discovers the castle full of beautiful and lonely nuns, and they pull him inside and practically devour him before he’s rescued—to his dismay—by Lancelot. Angelo looked like he knew he was about to be devoured and seemed appropriately freaked out and turned on. He ran a hand through his black hair. “Uh, what kind of game?”
Benny plopped down to her knees in front of him, holding the empty bottle of wine. “Well, we have a bottle. …”
“How’s that going to work with so many girls?” Alison nudged in next to Benny, sitting cross-legged in a pair of sleek red satin pants. The rest of the girls formed a little circle in the carpet. “I may be drunk, but I’m not making out with you, Benny.”
Benny smirked at her. “Why not? You’ve made out with everyone else.”
“How about this?” Tinsley spoke up, as if she’d just come up with a brilliant idea, but Jenny suspected she’d been planning this from the start. “We’ll spin the bottle, and whoever it lands on has to kiss Angelo.”
Shit, Jenny thought, trying to meet Brett’s gaze. She didn’t want to kiss Angelo. Was there any way she could get out of here before things got too crazy? Maybe she could pretend to go to the bathroom and just stay there for the rest of the night. But maybe it wouldn’t come to that … She really didn’t want to be a party pooper, not when she was just starting to feel like she finally belonged here.
“I think I need another drink.” Angelo rubbed his hand over his eyes and chuckled to himself. Callie got up and poured him another, using a little more rum this time, and gulped down more wine. She walked carefully back to the circle, like she could already feel the room beginning to tilt.
“You do the honors and spin first, Angelo.” Tinsley placed the bottle in the middle of the small Oriental area rug that Callie’s mother had sent to school with her as a dorm-room-warming gift.
He spun. The fat bottle twirled around and around on the rug before wobbling to a stop, pointing directly at Benny. She gave a squeal of delight and crawled on her knees across the circle, pausing to sit up in front of Angelo, who was staring at her long neck, her hair pulled up into a calculatedly sloppy ponytail.
“Here goes nothing.” Benny leaned in and pressed her lips to Angelo’s full ones. He seemed shocked at the suddenness of her move, but then he quickly yielded, and all the girls watched as their lips moved together.
Guess Benny wasn’t as much of a prude as everyone seemed to think, Jenny thought, a little surprised. Benny finally pulled away and shimmied back to her place in the circle, her lips wet and curled in a huge grin.
“My turn,” Callie ordered, jealous that Benny got to kiss Angelo first. She turned the mouth of the bottle toward her this time, then grabbed Angelo and kissed him hard and passionately, like she thought they were on a soap opera. Brett nudged Jenny as the kiss stretched on and on. Angelo was about to reach up and touch Callie’s hair when Tinsley cleared her throat authoritatively.
“Sorry.” Callie pulled away, keeping her eyes glued to Angelo, who looked like he wished the game were over so he could kiss Callie exclusively. Next Brett spun the bottle sloppily, and Jenny’s heart dropped when it wobbled to a stop between her and Verena, but clearly closer to Jenny.
“So close!” Verena exclaimed in disappointment. “Go ahead, Jenny, it’s you.”
“Yeah, but it’s in the middle.” Cute as Angelo was, the idea of making out with anyone besides Easy made Jenny feel sick. There was no way she could do what Callie had done now that she’d kissed Easy. It just seemed gross to kiss any other guy.
“What’s the matter, Jenny? Don’t you want to play?” Tinsley smiled. “Verena will get her turn, don’t worry.”
Jenny could feel everyone watching her. And all of a sudden the dim purplish light in the room seemed kind of freaky. Callie’s eyes seemed to be piercing through her. Shit. Shit. Shit. Callie was going to know something was up if she refused to play along.
&n
bsp; With her heart in her throat, Jenny crawled over to Angelo, her bare knees getting rug burn. She paused in front of him. He still looked a little bewildered but had clearly decided to just go with it. Quickly she pressed her lips to his cheek and scooted back.
“Don’t insult us. Real kisses only, please.” Tinsley leaned forward, her hair falling around her face like a curtain, her violet eyes like lasers. “It’s not like there’s someone else, right?”
As always, Tinsley’s voice was light and seemingly carefree, but Jenny knew enough to realize that this was a test—if she didn’t do it right, she might as well kiss her dreams of belonging to the intimate world of the Waverly elite goodbye. And that was all she ever wanted, wasn’t it? To be one of the pretty, popular girls, friends with someone like Tinsley Carmichael. That was priceless—surely she could trade off one small, teeny-tiny kiss on the lips for that?
Without saying anything, Jenny abruptly turned to Angelo again, and, before she could stop herself, kissed him full on the mouth. She’d intended to just hold her lips there for a sufficient amount of time, but Angelo was clearly getting into the game, and she felt his tongue pry open her lips and find its way into her mouth. She forced herself to count to three before pulling away and retreating back to her spot in the circle, barely resisting the urge to grab Brett’s jumbo bottle of Scope from her dresser to gargle.
Jenny glanced at Tinsley, hoping to see some sign of acceptance in her eyes, but they didn’t look any different than they had thirty seconds ago.
“Don’t forget to spin,” Tinsley said coolly, leaning against the bed with her arms crossed in front of her chest, looking like a queen who had just seen a mediocre performance by one of her underlings and was now ready for the next thing. She nudged the bottle toward Jenny with her toe.
Suddenly Jenny realized with a horrible sinking feeling, as if the elevator she was in had just dropped twenty floors, that gaining Tinsley’s approval wasn’t going to be as simple as making out with the pizza boy.
Jenny spun the bottle blindly, and as the game continued, she had to bite the insides of her cheeks to keep herself from spilling tears like the big baby she was. What had she done? She was disgusted with herself—how could she let Tinsley push her around like that? And how could she do this to Easy? She couldn’t wait to brush her teeth and get the horrible taste of another guy out of her mouth.
“Who’s up for a game of strip poker?” Callie staggered to her feet, the heel of her satin Kate Spade pump piercing a half-eaten piece of pizza lying on the floor. “Fuck.” She slid her foot out of the shoe, leaving it where it was.
“Will you stay and play with us, Angelo?” Sage sat down next to him and draped her arm around his shoulders, bitter that she hadn’t gotten a chance to kiss him but willing to trade for the opportunity to see him strip.
“I guess I could stay a while longer.”
“Hey.” Brett nudged Jenny, looking concerned. “Wanna get out of here? We can watch TV in the lounge or something.”
Jenny clutched Brett’s arm gratefully, feeling drunk and depressed and badly in need of some downtime. “God, please. Let’s go.” Brett stood up and pulled Jenny to her feet.
“Where are you going?” Callie demanded, rummaging through her desk drawer for the pack of cards she kept there.
Brett stretched her back and yawned. “We’re going to head down to the lounge and watch a movie. I’m really drunk. If I have any more, I’ll be sick. I’m not much of a card player anyway.” She picked up a paper plate and loaded a few slices of pizza on it before scooting out the door behind Jenny, who looked like she was about to cry. “See ya.”
Callie slammed the drawer shut and narrowed her eyes. Brett didn’t look drunk, though Jenny certainly did. What were they thinking, leaving the Café Society meeting before anything really good had happened?
“Brett has gotten so boring.” Tinsley shuffled the cards like a pro. Tinsley handed the cards to Celine, who dealt them, giggling the whole time and nudging Angelo, who was looking quite drunk. Sage took the tortoiseshell clip from Celine’s hair and stuck it in Angelo’s head. They all collapsed into drunken giggles.
“She’s been bitchy all year,” Callie said, bitter at Brett for having rejected her company yet again. “And she’s bummed that Mr. Dalton lost interest.” Callie picked up someone’s half-full mug and downed it. She knew she was getting plastered, but it distracted her from feeling sorry for herself. Why were Brett and Jenny getting so cliquey without her? What made them so chummy? She wouldn’t have minded curling up on one of the couches downstairs with her cashmere blanket and a bag of Cheetos and watching a Lindsay Lohan movie with the two of them, if they’d thought to invite her.
“About that …” Tinsley leaned in confidentially. “I might know the reason for the sudden change in his affections.”
“You?” Callie tried not to look horrified. She glanced around. Benny and Alison were pouring more drinks and not paying attention, and Verena and Celine and Sage were completely wrapped up in Angelo.
Tinsley nodded her glossy head. “Yeah. We had a very … promising meeting last week. And he’s taking me to New York tomorrow for a little romantic getaway.” She grinned proudly.
Callie had to look away. How could Tinsley do that? And what about Mr. Dalton? How many students was he going to try and sleep with? Poor Brett. Of course Tinsley was to blame. Callie shivered, wondering if she should go down and talk to Brett right now. But then, she was undoubtedly too busy with her new best friend, Jenny.
Instead, she poured herself another drink. Tinsley was horrible, yes, but at least she was open about it. Callie couldn’t help feeling like Brett and Jenny were just as bad … just more secretive. But maybe it was just the wine talking. Maybe.
To: Eric Dalton’s students and advisees
From:
[email protected] Date: Tuesday, September 17, 8:55 a.m.
Subject: No class today
Dear Students,
Due to unexpected circumstances, I won’t be able to attend class today. Please continue with the scheduled assignments from the syllabus. Thank you—I’ll see you tomorrow.
Sincerely,
EFD
To:
[email protected] From:
[email protected] Date: Tuesday, September 17, 9:17 a.m.
Subject: U sick?
Hey, Callie,
I’m in Latin, but you’re not here. Just wanted to see if you want me to bring you soup or an almond croissant … or Gatorade?
Love,
Brandon
22
TO AVOID A HANGOVER, A WAVERLY OWL MUST STAY HYDRATED.
Callie woke up with a headache like a car wreck and her mouth tasting like sawdust. She peeked out from under her cashmere blanket and was greeted by hot, blinding sunlight. What time was it? She had to pee, but any movement sent alarm sirens through her head, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to leave her snuggly burrow to face the day. Her stomach was roiling—how much had she had to drink? She had a vague memory of stealing other people’s plastic cups of wine and Waverly mugs filled with rum and Cokes. The smell of rum coming from a mug on the floor made her stomach lurch, even though it was empty. She remembered spending a few hours in the bathroom, vomiting up everything in her stomach, which was really just alcohol since she’d skipped the pizza. No wonder her mouth was so dry. She had to get some water or she’d die. What time was it, anyway? Today was Tuesday, right? She was sure she was missing some class, but it hurt her head to try to think of which one.
She kicked off her blanket, revealing an empty, sun-dappled room. Pizza boxes still lay on the floor. She reached for her cell phone and turned it on. Next to it, on her nightstand, stood an Evian bottle and two Tylenol capsules. Tinsley. Tears came to her eyes. Tinsley never managed to get as drunk as anyone else and always managed to remember the water. An image from last night came back to her—Tinsley holding back her blond hair as she knelt over the toilet. Callie had been
a stumbling, swearing, crying, sweaty mess, and Tinsley had sat with her in the bathroom, making her drink water and holding her hair back when she was sick. Tinsley had listened to her wail about Easy for hours, just reassuring her things would be okay and that he’d get what he deserved.
She loved that girl, even if she had stolen Mr. Dalton from Brett. That was totally insane. But none of her business, really. Let Brett and Tinsley duke it out; it had nothing to do with her. Callie cracked open the bottle of water and washed down the Tylenol before collapsing back on her pillow with her phone in hand. 10:29 A.M. She pulled her covers back over her head, shutting out the annoying sunlight. She had seven new text messages. At least one of them could be from Easy, right? Her thumb clicked down through them. Five from Brandon. Two from Angelo—when had she given him her number? Probably when she had her tongue down his throat. What was wrong with her?
Maybe because she only wanted one person and he wasn’t interested. Callie dialed his number anyway, feeling safe beneath her covers. Maybe he’d just needed some time apart? Maybe he missed her? But his phone didn’t even ring, just went directly to voice mail: “This is Easy. Leave me a message.” The only thing worse than leaving a hungover message on an ex-boyfriend’s voice mail was leaving a drunken one, and she was grateful that Tinsley had taken away her phone last night; otherwise she probably would have tried that too.
She flipped her phone shut before the beep and pressed her face into her pillow. Maybe she could just sleep through this day. Or this year.
23
A WAVERLY OWL DOES NOT KISS AND TELL.
Jenny wandered around campus on Tuesday morning, so overcome with guilt that she couldn’t sit still. She’d been unable to sleep last night, even after Brett had gotten her out of there and the two of them had giggled and watched The 40-Year-Old Virgin in the lounge. But Jenny was still tormented by how she had idiotically let Tinsley goad her into making out with Angelo. It made her sick just thinking about it. What had she done?