MAY LEAD, GO INSTEAD WHERE THERE IS NO PATH AND LEAVE
A TRAIL. “He couldn’t help smiling as he opened the heavy green door. That quote reminded him of Elizabeth, and the way she seemed to do whatever the hell she wanted.
In front of room 101, he paused to collect himself, swiping one hand through his hair nervously. Then, just as he was about to knock, he heard the sounds of laughter coming from inside—two people’s laughter. One sounded like Elizabeth, but the other was definitely a guy. What was going on? Panic shot through his veins, his get-the-hell-out-of-here instincts going into effect. He looked down stupidly at the orchids.
But then he thought, What the hell? He’d just spent forty dollars on flowers, and twenty dollars on a cab over here. What was he going to do, turn around and walk right out? Have the same cab driver come pick him up, along with his sad bouquet of flowers? Would Walsh do that? He didn’t think so. Have the balls to knock, Buchanan, he told himself with a brisk nod. And so he raised his hand and knocked on the dark oak door, right under the Greenpeace bumper sticker.
The door opened quickly, and Elizabeth, looking like she was in the middle of a laugh, answered, wearing a pair of low-rise jeans that hung loosely at her hips and a slightly cropped gray T-shirt that revealed the tiny diamond stud in her belly button. Before Brandon had time to properly admire it, Elizabeth’s face changed from surprise to delight, and she threw her arms around his neck, almost crushing the flowers.
“Brandon!” she cried just before giving him a huge, wet, hot French kiss. Well, that was more like it. When she finally pulled away, Brandon felt a little dizzy. Why had he waited so long to come and see her?
And then he noticed the guy sitting on her bed.
Elizabeth tugged Brandon into her room, which turned out to be a surprisingly spacious single. “Come on in!” she said gleefully, her loose blond hair just grazing her shoulders. “It’s so good to see you.” She seemed to remember the other guy. “Oh. This is Morgan. We were just studying.” Elizabeth gave Morgan a raised eyebrow, and he quickly stood up. He was wearing a flannel T-shirt and a pair of corduroys with holes in the knees, and no shoes. Or socks. But he nodded politely at Brandon and didn’t seem too upset about getting chased out.
“Later,” he said, directed at both of them, before disappearing out the door. Where the hell were his shoes? Brandon wondered, staring at the royal blue shag rug. And where were the, uh, books? What exactly were they “studying”?
But before he could give the topic any more thought, Elizabeth was right at his side. “These are gorgeous,” she cooed, closing her eyes and sniffing the orchids. “They look like poetry.” Brandon felt himself blushing. “Glad you like them. Roses seemed a little too conventional.” He watched as she took the flowers out of their wrapping and delicately placed them in a half-full Nalgene water bottle sitting on her computer desk. Well, that was one way to do it.
“You know me already, don’t you?” She gave him a knowing look before setting the bottle down on her surprisingly neat desk. She quickly returned to Brandon’s arms and pressed her soft lips to his cheek. “Thank you,” she murmured throatily.
Brandon closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again. “Uh, I like your room.” His eyes raced around the high-ceilinged space. Everything about it seemed sexy and Elizabeth-like, from the sleek iMac on her desk to the disorganized stack of Post-it-filled poetry books on her nightstand to the navy-and-turquoise tapestry thumbtacked to the wall. On the bulletin board were photos of Elizabeth all over the world, backpacking through Europe, on safari in Africa, even one on the Great Wall of China. And he couldn’t help but notice lots of pictures of her partying with friends—who happened to be mostly male. She sure seemed to have a lot of guy friends.
Elizabeth placed her palms against Brandon’s chest, and with a devious smile on her pretty face, pushed him down onto the soft cottony comforter on the bed. “It was totally sweet of you to come all the way over here.” She lay down next to him and started stroking his chest. “I’ve been thinking about you all week,” she purred. Her dirty blond hair was pulled back with tiny blue plastic barrettes, the kind that little girls usually wear, and her wide-set brown eyes sparkled with amusement.
“Oh, yeah?” Brandon couldn’t help feeling that, well, maybe that other guy—what was his name? Morgan? What kind of girly name was that, anyway?—was no big deal. After all, Eliz-abeth had kissed Brandon right in front of him, so she clearly wasn’t worried about his feelings. And now, as Elizabeth was nibbling on Brandon’s ear, she clearly wasn’t thinking about Morgan. So why should he? Right? Riiiight.
TinsleyCarmichael: Hey sexy. Whatcha doin’?
JulianMcCafferty: Headed to squash practice. You?
TinsleyCarmichael: I’m being deviant and skipping tennis. Heading back to my empty room in Dumbarton now. . . . Hint, hint.
JulianMcCafferty: Do you still have my lighter?
TinsleyCarmichael: Uh, what?
JulianMcCafferty: Never mind.
TinsleyCarmichael: Just come over, okay? I’ll make you forget about your lighter. And hurry. I’ve been thinking about you all day. . . .
JulianMcCafferty: I’ll be there in thirty seconds.
17
A WAVERLY OWL KNOWS THAT THE BEST WAY TO GET OVER SOMEONE IS TO OBSESS OVER SOMEONE ELSE.
“So, um, Justin Timberlake or John Mayer?” Jenny asked a little shyly as she and Callie trundled home from field hockey practice in the early evening light, a cool breeze tousling their sweat-dampened ponytails and sending brightly colored leaves scuttling their way. Jenny’s legs were pleasantly exhausted from the exercise—Smail had run them hard today in preparation for their game this weekend against St. Lucius, whose field hockey team was Waverly’s league rival. After about ten minutes of warm-up drills, Jenny and most of the girls had shed their Adidas track pants and sweatshirts, despite its feeling about twenty degrees out. It felt good now, as Jenny’s heart rate was returning to normal and the chilly breeze cooled her still-hot skin. Brett had been a no-show at practice, and for some reason it didn’t feel at all awkward when Jenny and Callie headed back to the dorm together alone. She felt like they’d really been getting to know each other this past week, and not just because of the silly questions Jenny was asking her now. (Coke or Pepsi: “Diet Pepsi.” Cats or dogs? “Cats, but only black ones.” Kirsten Dunst or Scarlett Johannson: “Kirsten, but with Scarlett’s voice.”) “So?” Jenny prompted. “Justin Timberlake or John Mayer?” she repeated.
Callie, still wearing her grass-stained sweatpants, her sweatshirt tied loosely around her thin waist, twirled her Brine field hockey stick in one hand and snorted with laughter. “Are we talking music, or, like, who I’d rather make out with?” Jenny tilted her orange Nalgene bottle and let the last drops of water trickle into her mouth. “Make out with. Definitely,” she clarified.
“No contest.” Callie swatted at a pebble with her stick, sending it ricocheting through the grass. “Justin Timberlake looks like he’d know exactly how to kiss me. Mmm.” Two months ago, Jenny would have been mortified by the idea of walking across a campus full of boys—cute, well-dressed, smart boys—and perfect, preppy, pretty girls, in a grass-stained T-shirt and gym shorts. But now she couldn’t have cared less. It didn’t matter. This was the boarding school way of life—wholesome, healthy, natural, and sometimes sweat-filled. She loved it.
“Really?” Jenny’s stomach rumbled, reminding her that she was starving. “I’d definitely go for John Mayer. I guess I like . . .” She awkwardly trailed off, realizing she had just been about to say that dark, sensitive, artsy type. I.e., that Easy Walsh type. Not
like she couldn’t mention Easy, exactly—they’d talked about him plenty of times by now—but more like she didn’t want to ruin the mood by bringing him in. Jenny bent down to tie her shoelace, pretending that was the reason she’d forgotten to complete her sentence.
Callie nodded absently as she climbed the front steps of the dorm. “Hey,
I’m going to go in, okay? I’ve got to jump in the shower before heading to the, uh, library.” “Sure.” Jenny responded equally absently, noticing someone moving behind one of the emerald green, carved topiaries that lined the wall of Dumbarton. It was Julian. Hanging out around the girls’ dorm again. Jenny waved goodbye to Callie and headed toward the bushes. Despite all her thoughts about being sweaty as a wholesome, natural part of boarding school life, she quickly pulled the elastic from her hair and shook her head, letting her dark curls fall around her shoulders—that was a little better at least.
Julian was standing there with his hands in his pockets, leaning against the ivy-covered wall, looking a little flustered. He was wearing a pale green T-shirt that said, in retro yellow letters, IT’S NOT WHAT YOU’RE THINKING, and an unzipped royal blue track jacket with white stripes down the sleeves.
“Hark!” Jenny said, holding her field hockey stick out like a sword, the tip pointed directly at the lettering on Julian’s chest. They’d just finished Hamlet in Miss Rose’s class, and she was still in a Shakespearean state of mind. “Who goes there?” He raised his eyebrows and did a Humphrey Bogart kind of voice. “We’ve got to stop meeting like this.”
“Hey, I live here.” Jenny grinned and retracted her hockey stick. She glanced around her but no one was approaching. First she’d been talking to Julian in a broom closet, now behind a bush. It was kind of fun—where would he pop up next? And why was he here again? “What’s your excuse? Are you looking for your—what was it? Your lighter—again?” “Funny girl.” He shrugged his shoulders, and a ray of setting sunlight burst through the elegantly sculpted bush he was standing behind, lighting up his features from behind. “But, no. I was just, you know, passing by.” The dramatic lighting made the shapes of his face stand out even more than they normally did, and Jenny noticed for the first time how strong the planes of his cheekbones were, how deep-set his dark eyes were, how crooked his nose was. It was the kind of face that would look great in marble, she thought. It took her a moment to realize it was her turn to speak again—so much for her brilliant Shakespearean repartee. “So, uh, what am I thinking?” she asked, hoping her face was a cute rosy-cheeked red, and not an are-you-having-a-heart-attack red.
Julian smiled at her but looked kind of confused, like he’d lost the trail of conversation. “Uh, what?” He leaned forward.
“Your shirt.” Jenny pointed toward it and raised her eyebrows. “You’ve probably been getting that all day.” Julian glanced down at his chest as understanding washed over his face. “Actually, I had my Sea World T-shirt on today.” He tilted his head and shrugged his shoulders, which made him look kind of like a little kid. “I just changed.” The dimple near his lips deepened.
A giggle burst from Jenny’s lips. Something about Julian was just so friendly and open—it was nice to flirt with him. It took her mind off other tall, handsome boys. “I know this is going to sound totally crazy, but would you be at all interested in being a model for my art class project?” She really hoped he wouldn’t think she was flirting with him—because she wasn’t. Not really. “I think you’d make a great subject.” He looked completely taken aback and glanced around him. Yikes! She hoped he wasn’t going to take it the wrong way. “Uh, right now? Behind the bushes?” “No!” Jenny pushed an unruly lock of hair behind her ear. She couldn’t believe she was standing here talking to a totally cute guy when she was in desperate need of a shower. At least he probably couldn’t smell her from where he was hiding. “I didn’t mean right now. Maybe tomorrow?” “I don’t know if I’ve ever been a piece of art before.” His fingers played with a branch of the bush he was stuck next to. “Sounds kinda cool.” “Sweet.” Jenny tapped her hockey stick against the brick wall. “I’ll e-mail you about a time.” She smiled coyly. “That is, if I don’t see you in the broom closet before then.” She walked inside to the sound of his laughter. As she climbed the stairs to room 303, she realized that there would definitely be other cute boys on campus to distract her from Easy. Maybe Callie could find someone to distract her from the unforgettable Easy Walsh, too. Everything was finally working out just the way it was supposed to.
TinsleyCarmichael: It’s been more than thirty seconds.
TinsleyCarmichael: Are you still coming over?
TinsleyCarmichael: Julian?
18
A WAVERLY OWL KNOWS HOW TO APPRECIATE MOTHER NATURE—ESPECIALLY WITH ANOTHER OWL.
What am I doing? What am I doing? Callie paused at the edge of the path to the boathouse, right at the spot where Easy had instructed her to turn off, the sky just beginning to glow orange. Her stomach rumbled a little, reminding her that she was skipping dinner. But she was too nervous and keyed up to eat anything anyway. After practice, she’d raced to shower off the sweat and grime their long practice had left her covered in, then dressed carefully. She had no idea what constituted appropriate clothing for a modeling session in the woods with her ex-boyfriend, and after deliberating for about twenty minutes she’d had to force herself to just get dressed already. Easy had asked to paint her, after all, and so he must want her to show up looking like herself. If that meant wearing expensive, slightly inappropriate clothing, so be it.
And so here she was, in her tight-fitting black Theory trousers, high-heeled pointy-toed boots, and black Vince scoop-neck sweater with a neckline just high enough not to be inappropriate. Her still-damp hair was curling slightly at the ends and making her feel even colder. She zipped her red quilted down vest up to her chin, the rabbit-fur lining making her nose twitch, and stepped off the path, the heels of her boots sinking slightly into the mossy undergrowth. She reminded herself of her resolution with Jenny and how she’d just lied to her, saying she was in a rush to get to the library. She was not going to let this thing with Easy go beyond a friendship. In fact, for that reason, she’d purposely not shaved her legs in the shower—leg stubble always made her feel so unsexy, and she felt like she might need to harness that unsexy feeling when spending time alone with Easy in the woods.
She made her way through the woods, stepping carefully over branches and enjoying the way the dry leaves crumpled beneath her feet. Callie inhaled the fresh, leafy air and wished she were a more outdoorsy person—it might be kind of fun, as long as it didn’t mean she had to wear ugly hiking boots or wear that awful all-natural deodorant crap. She came up to the small clearing that she’d guessed was Easy’s secret spot, and sure enough, there he was, crouched down in front of a bunch of tubes of paint scattered on the grass. She just stood there for a moment, staring at him, taking in the scene. He looked so natural out here, and even from how far away she was, she could read in his movements a relaxed happiness that she only really got to see when he was around Credo.
Then he looked up and saw her, and his face dissolved into a huge crooked grin. “Hey,” he said, standing up and brushing off his hands on his already dusty dark jeans. “What do you think?” He held his arms out to indicate the clearing.
Callie approached slowly, aware that even the sight of Easy doing something so simple as holding his arms out was making all of her old feelings for him come back. Fuck. This was definitely going to be harder than she thought, unshaved legs or no. “It’s nice,” she commented politely. “Where are the flowers?” “Well, it is October.” “What, there are no flowers in fall?” she asked petulantly, already feeling herself slide into the slightly contrary attitude that Easy had always gotten off on. She didn’t mean to—it just felt so . . . natural. “That’s stupid.” Easy laughed. His dark blue eyes crinkled up at the edges, and Callie could tell from his expression that he wanted to kiss her, the way he had done a thousand times—which broke her heart. Yes, she’d been hoping with every ounce of her being that he would realize how stupid he had been and come running back to her, throwing himself at her feet and begging for forgiveness. She missed him. She missed his deep laugh that came from somewhere down in his belly, the way he raised one eyebrow slightly when he thought she was bullshitting him
about something. “Whatever. The leaves will make a pretty cool background, especially once the sun starts to set,” he said.
Callie felt Easy’s gaze wash over her. Did he look at all of his models this way? A few weeks ago, Tinsley had insinuated that Easy had been out in this very painting spot with Jenny. That hurt. No way was she going to let him hurt her again, not like that. Callie shook her head disdainfully. “So, what do you want me to do here? Stand in front of the leaves?” Easy scratched his neck and narrowed his eyes, focusing intently on her face. Callie felt her stomach flop but tried not to let her face betray her feelings. “I want to do some sketches first to sort of get some ideas out.” He picked up an enormous sketch pad and pulled a stubby pencil from behind his ear. “So maybe just sort of sit on the rock for now?” Callie eyed the rock. She’d sort of thought modeling would mean stretching out on a luxurious, velvet chaise lounge, maybe just wearing some silky robe casually thrown about her. Something Titanic-like, the heart of the ocean around her neck. Not perching on a dirty, uncomfortable rock in the middle of October when it was freezing out and she had to wear her puffy red vest with the fur-trimmed hood. If Easy wanted to paint an Eskimo, he could’ve looked one up in the library. Well, whatever. He was the artist. She eased herself down on top of the rock, hooking her stacked heels on a small ledge. “How’s this?” “You look like you’re pissed to be sitting on a rock,” Easy said with a knowing smile. “Or being forced this close to nature.” She knew Easy kind of got off on the fact that she was a bit of a sheltered princess. “Fine.” Callie pivoted on the rock and leaned over, throwing her arms around it in a giant bear hug. “Oh, rock, I love you so much and I am so excited to be sitting on you, even though you are cold and dirty and uncomfortable.” She tried to put the most lovesick look on her face that she could manage and blew kisses at it. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Easy bent over with laughter.