Reckless

by Cecily von Ziegesar

  With a sigh, she grabbed an already-cut everything bagel and a packet of light cream cheese and sat down in an empty armchair in the corner. She couldn't help being in a foul mood. The whole thing was ridiculous—today was St. Lucius's home-coming game, and she was supposed to be in the stands, looking cute and cheering Jeremiah on and making all the St. Lucius cheerleaders know that they weren't going to be the ones going home with him after the game. It was Jeremiah's big day, and she wanted to be there for him. She'd almost fucked things up for good between them, with the whole thinking she was in love with Eric Dalton fiasco, but now things were good again, and she wanted to prove how much she loved him.

  Surprisingly, Tinsley and Callie were already seated on one of the couches, Tinsley with her legs draped over an arm. She was wearing a tight-fitting Arizona Wildcats T-shirt (had she dated someone from Arizona?) and her red silk pajama bottoms, her long dark hair rumpled with bed-head. Callie was wearing a white cotton slip and the two girls were whispering in each other's ears, clearly plotting something as usual.

  Brett tore off a piece of her bagel and spread some cream cheese on it.

  “Thanks for coming, everyone. I thought it would be a good idea if we all got together and brainstormed a little about this … um … ridiculous essay bullshit.” Oops. Brett wanted to sound professional, but she couldn't help letting her bitterness creep through.

  A chorus of voices sprang up. “Sage and I had passes to go into the city today.” Emily Jenkins's face sported a victimized expression. “There's a Jovovich-Hawk trunk show at Barneys, and we've been planning this for, like, ever. Maybe I can write about that?”

  “Yeah, like Marymount's going to give a shit that you didn't get the hot new minidress of the season,” Benny Cunningham scoffed as she picked at her banana nut muffin, clearly miffed that she wasn't invited on the Barneys excursion.

  Yvonne Stidder, her corn silk hair pulled into two ponytails, raised her hand tentatively. Brett said patiently, “You don't need to raise your hand, Yvonne. We can all just speak up here.”

  “Thanks, Brett.” Yvonne looked around the room a little nervously, looking small and actually kind of funky in her faded red pajamas with Jetsons cartoons scattered all over them. “I just wanted to say that complaining about what we're missing out on is probably not what Marymount had in mind.” She glanced at Emily and Sage and added quickly, “No offense.”

  “I think Yvonne's right,” Jenny spoke up, sitting cross-legged on the floor, wearing a pair of True Religion jeans and a striped Ralph Lauren crewneck tee—Brett knew she wouldn't be wearing her pajamas, as she was always careful not to be seen without a bra on. “I mean, he knows we're missing out on stuff—that's the point of the punishment, right?” She took a deep breath. “But he wants us to learn about responsibility, and responsibility is kind of about taking your punishment, fair or unfair, and dealing with it the best you can, you know?”

  Tinsley and Callie burst into giggles, and Jenny's face flushed.

  “Callie?” Brett said pointedly. “Do you have something to contribute?”

  “Actually,” Callie answered, still giggling, “we do have an idea about how to deal with the punishment the best we can.”

  “Marymount might have found one keg,” Tinsley announced regally. “But”—she paused for effect, enjoying the looks of bewilderment on the faces of all the half-awake girls—”he didn't find the other five.”

  Immediately the room buzzed with excitement. “What are you talking about?” Brett demanded crossly. “There are more? Where?

  “Under Kara's bed,” Callie revealed proudly.

  More buzz as the girls glanced around, not all of them sure who Kara was. It became clear when the Girl in Black jumped up from the window seat, her pale face red with horror. “You're kidding?”

  “Sorry,” Tinsley tossed out, not sounding apologetic in the least. “You were in the shower, your door was open, and there's too much shit under my bed.” She made it sound almost like it was Kara's fault.

  “So you put five kegs in my room without asking?” Kara looked irritated. Brett smiled a little, pleased to see the Girl in Black speak up for herself. She had to be pretty cool to stand up to Tinsley Carmichael in front of a room full of Tinsley wannabes. She liked this girl already.

  “They're half kegs, actually,” Callie corrected.

  Yvonne cleared her throat. “It sounds like this is the perfect opportunity to take advantage of a negative situation—we're all trapped here, and Pardee's not going to be around.”

  “So, let's have a party!” Celine Colista stood up, her Gap Body short-shorts revealing her super-long legs. She did a little jig. A buzz of excitement rippled through the room.

  “Right.” Brett sat up straighter in her chair and wished she had a gavel or something to regain control of the room. “So what happens when Pardee walks in and sees a bunch of drunk girls passed out in the common room with five empty kegs?”

  “Actually,” piped up Rifat Jones, the tall, athletic volleyball captain, “I think I can help.” Her parents were rumored to practically be running Wall Street before they took time off to join the Peace Corps and were now teaching people in Ghana how to start their own businesses. Kind of cool. “My boyfriend's one of the students on the Trustee Committee,” she explained. Her hair was dark and curly and Natalie Portman V for Vendetta short, and her long, dark legs that seemed to go on for a million miles were propped up on the coffee table. “He'll be helping out at the big dinner party at the Marymount's house tonight. He said that every year it goes to, like, early morning, and the trustees and teachers get all wasted and have to stumble home. So …”

  “So he could call us when Pardee leaves?” Tinsley interrupted.

  “Sure.” Rifat nodded. “He can give us some advance warning, at least. Then we could just lock up the kegs and dive into bed.”

  “That rocks. Thanks, Rifat.” Tinsley clapped like she'd solved the problem herself. Brett was pretty sure that Tinsley had never spoken to Rifat in her life before now, but suddenly she was her best friend. Why not? Tinsley loved everyone she could use.

  “So the party is on? Shall we say, eight o'clock?” Callie hopped up from the couch and stretched out her long, thin body. “Just enough time to pick out my outfit.”

  “Wait a sec,” squeaked Yvonne Stidder. “I just had an idea. What if we all have to wear someone else's clothes to the party tonight—someone that we don't really know? I mean, it'll give us a chance to get to know each other.” She shrugged and frowned slightly, as if worried that someone would laugh at her.

  “That's a fabulous idea!” Rifat exclaimed excitedly, glancing at Callie and Celine and the other tall girls.

  Benny Cunningham rolled her eyes at Callie. But Callie was already searching the room, trying to estimate which girls were the same size as her. As if anyone else was that skinny. Other girls were murmuring in excitement.

  Brett sighed. A party was certainly not going to make up for missing Jeremiah's homecoming, but the idea of spending an afternoon pawing through closets full of brand-new clothes was appealing to her. It was sort of like the time she and Callie had spent an entire Sunday cabbing around New York, popping into almost every single vintage clothing store in the city in search of a Chanel slip dress she had spotted while flipping through the library's collection of sixties Vogue magazines. They hadn't found a dress like it, but they'd managed to bring home bags and bags of other treasures.

  “All right,” Brett said, brushing everything bagel crumbs off her lap and hoping there weren't any poppy seeds in her teeth. “Everybody, do some thinking about what it means to be a responsible Owl and send me an email.” Maybe they could all just compile their thoughts and make one essay. She crumpled her napkin into her hand. “And leave your closet doors open.”

  To:HeathFerro@waverly.edu;

  EasyWalsh@waverly.edu;

  BrandonBuchanan@waverly.edu;

  JulianMcCafferty@waverly.edu;

  AlanStG
irard@waverly.edu;

  RyanReynolds@waverly.edu

  From:TinsleyCarmichael@waverly.edu

  Date:Saturday, October 5, 10:12 a.m.

  Subject:Shhh …

  Dearest boys,

  Just wanted to let you know that we'll be having a party tonight in Dumbarton—thought we should invite you since we'll be using your beer.

  Pardee won't be around, but security and groundskeeper Ben will be patrolling the quad to make sure no one comes in or goes out. Be here if you can find a way in—just don't get caught or you will be screwed (and not by us).

  Naughtily yours,

  T

  To:BrettMesserschmidt@waverly.edu

  From:KaraWhalen@waverly.edu

  Date:Saturday, October 5, 11:21 a.m.

  Subject:What I learned …

  Is that a responsible Owl might as well go to the first party she's ever been invited to. Especially if the kegs are already in her room!

  See you tonight.

  K

  To:BrettMesserschmidt@waverly.edu

  From:EmilyJenkins@waverly.edu

  Date:Saturday, October 5, 12:07 p.m.

  Subject:Don't you wish your girlfriend was hot like me?

  Okay, I have officially been listening to too much bad music. But what I really wish for is hot CLOTHES for me! I need a cute outfit for the party, start. Can I come over? I'm already on my way.

  A responsible Owl does not spill beer on her generous dormmate's

  14

  A WAVERLY OWL KNOWS THAT WORKING COOPERATIVELY WITH HIS PEERS IS AN EXCELLENT WAY TO BRING ABOUT NEW AND CREATIVE SOLUTIONS.

  At twelve-thirty on Saturday, Waverly's dining hall looked, at first glance, like it always looked—crowded. Anyone who didn't know Waverly well would think that all was normal and right in the world. But those familiar with the school would have noticed a distinct difference—or rather, lack. Namely, all of the Dumbarton girls were missing. Meaning, all of the hot girls were missing. And the aesthetics of the school were certainly suffering because of it.

  Not to mention the boys. When Brandon walked in the main doors of the dining hall, he unconsciously scanned the room for Callie's pretty blond head and for Jenny's mess of curls before realizing they weren't going to be there. He sighed heavily and headed for the food lines, grabbing a tray and walking around the massive lineup in front of the buffalo chicken strips. (One of Callie's few indulgences—she was going to be pissed about that.)

  “More,” Heath Ferro told the poor girl shoveling the strips out onto his plate. “Don't be stingy. I'm a growing boy.”

  Brandon tried not to gag as he passed his roommate in line and grabbed a bowl of steaming tomato soup. His stomach was still queasy from dinner last night. Or maybe he was queasy from all the flirting Tinsley had done with his dad. Talk about weird. She'd appeared out of nowhere and bewitched all of them, except maybe Julian.

  “What's your problem, princess?” Heath asked after his plate had been piled sufficiently high with chicken strips. “Didn't you have fun on your date with Julian last night? He said you looked hot.” He snickered.

  Brandon rolled his eyes and examined the apples for one without any bruises. Heath was never going to outgrow the homosexuality jokes either. Brandon could already picture him at their fifty-year reunion, still making Brokeback Mountain cracks. “Tinsley was there too, jackass, in case you didn't hear.” He strolled over to the coolers and grabbed a bottle of orange-raspberry juice. Just saying her name electrified him.

  “Jesus. No girls for the whole weekend.” Heath followed him back toward the table near the fireplace where some of the other guys were sitting. “How fucked up is that?”

  “Very,” answered Alan St. Girard between giant slurps of his chocolate milk. “I feel like I'm in School Ties or something.”

  “There are other girls around, you know.” Ryan Reynolds sighed, not really believing it.

  “Yeah, but no good ones.”

  “Since when did you differentiate?” Heath peeled open his banana and flicked the peel at Alan, then ducked before Alan's apple core could smack him in the face.

  Excellent, thought Brandon. They're like a bunch of gorillas. Take the girls away and soon they'll start eating each other.

  “I don't know if I can make it through the weekend without getting a glimpse of one of Tinsley's short skirts. She's better than Skinemax.” Ryan stuffed his chocolate chip cookie into his mouth whole.

  “Think about it. All the hotties trapped inside with our beer?” Heath slapped himself on the forehead. “It's going to be legendary. We have to get in there.”

  “And how do you plan on doing that?” Julian asked. The guys had seemed to forget already that he was a freshman and had accepted him into the fold. Normally, if a freshman wanted to hang out with upperclassmen, he'd have to do their laundry or give them weed or something. But Julian was cool, and all the guys wanted him on their intramural basketball teams for winter, so they'd sort of silently forgiven him for being so young. “We can't exactly knock on the front door.”

  “Wait wait wait wait wait wait WAIT!” Heath jumped up from his seat, sending his glass of water sploshing over onto Brandon's half-eaten sandwich. “What about the tunnels? Are they real? Does anyone know?”

  “What are the tunnels?” Julian leaned forward eagerly. This was a story he hadn't heard.

  Alan ran his fingers over his unshaven chin. It looked like a blond Brillo pad. “I thought those were just rumors.”

  “No, they're real.” Brandon picked up his sopped sandwich and tossed it onto Heath's tray. “They were built to go between the dorms and the classrooms back during the cold war or something… .”

  “It wasn't a war thing—they dug them so the students could avoid this fucking numb-nuts Yankee weather.” Easy Walsh spoke up for the first time, having been too busy shoveling chicken strips into his mouth to join the conversation.

  Oh, yeah, Mr. Tunnels Expert? Brandon thought. “Well, either way … they've been closed up for years.”

  “Yeah, but my brothers used to talk about breaking into them and hanging out there to drink.” Easy shrugged. The collar of his stained white polo shirt was coming apart at the seam. “So there's got to be a way in somehow.”

  “So you can see J-E-N-N-Y?” Ryan poured half a glass of Sprite into his orange juice and swirled it with a spoon. “If I knew I was getting some of that ass, I'd be pretty determined too.”

  “I think the only ass you'll be getting is your grandma's, so why don't you shut the hell up and go give her a call?”

  “Ladies, ladies, please.” Heath stood up. “Don't you see? We all need to work together on this. Join forces, combine powers for the greater good.”

  Brandon rolled his eyes. Heath was always going off on these comic book/superpower tangents; like his life wasn't easy enough already, he had to think of himself as some sort of superhero. Although the only power he'd want would be X-ray vision so he could see through girls' clothes.

  “Whatever,” Ryan grumbled. “I mean, I'm in.”

  Easy tossed his crumpled-up napkin on Ryan's tray as a peace offering. “So let's figure it out… . How do we even find the tunnels?”

  “Teamwork, ladies, teamwork.” Heath pounded the table with his fist. “We all go our separate ways. Someone take the library, Maxwell Hall, the art studios, Lasell, everything. Leave no stone unturned. No door or trapdoor unopened!” It was like he thought he was Professor Xavier making a speech to inspire all the X-Men before going into battle.

  “What if it's locked?” Brandon asked.

  “What?”

  “What if the unopened door is locked? Then what?”

  Heath looked at his roommate as if he were a five-year-old who had just asked the stupidest question he'd ever heard. “Then we make like Oceans 11 and pick it.”

  And since all the girls were gone, they'd have to shoplift some hairpins.

  To:JennyHumphrey@waverly.edu

  From:EasyWalsh@wa
verly.edu

  Date:Saturday, October 5, 1:12 p.m.

  Subject:Picnics

  Denny,

  I miss you. Have no fear, the mighty Heath Ferro has a plan. We're going to try and sneak in—we can have our dinner date in your room instead of the woods.

  Luv,

  E

  CallieVernon:Hey, Walsh. Please thank the big guy for a lovely dinner last night.

  EasyWalsh:He'd probably dig it if you sent him an email yourself—you know he's in love with you.

  CallieVernon:Ha ha ha … Yeah, it was surprisingly fun. J.L. Walsh is like a fine wine—he gets better with age.

  EasyWalsh:Depends on your definition of better. At least no food was thrown.

  CallieVernon:You sneaking in tonight with the rest of the guys? I hear there's a secret plan.

  EasyWalsh:Ferro is acting as our fearless leader, so you know we're in good hands.

  CallieVernon:As long as you make it… we girls are all dressing up, hoping some sexy knights in shining armor will break down the doors… .

  EasyWalsh:Um, yeah. We'll try.

  15

  A WAVERLY OWL KNOWS WHO HER DORMMATES ARE—IN CASE IT COMES IN HANDY.

  After delivering gourmet sandwiches for lunch (turkey and Havarti on croissants, portobello and goat cheese on flat bread), dining services must have needed an easy one since they announced that for dinner, they would be ordering a giant stack of pizza boxes. No one seemed to mind. In fact, pizza was Tinsley's favorite meal before a big night of drinking. Nothing like carbs and cheese to prep the stomach for alcohol.