Fall For You [The Jane Austen Academy Series #1]

by Cecelia Gray

  “What’s wrong with Edward?” Ellie asked.

  “Nothing—everything! I just want everything to go back to the way it was before the stupid new owners and the stupid new students and Bergie and everything else.”

  “Well, it won’t,” Ellie said. “And you’re not exactly rejecting change. You’re the one who gave in to a new roommate, remember?”

  “I had no choice!” Lizzie shot to her feet, clutching the book to her chest.

  “Yes, you did—you think I don’t know about the managing editor trade? Emma told me.”

  “Maybe I should leave,” Emma said.

  “Yes!” Lizzie yelled, just as Ellie said no.

  “This is your room, Emma,” Ellie said. “You shouldn’t be the one leaving.”

  Lizzie felt a sharp pain in her chest. Was Ellie throwing her out? Was she picking Emma over her?

  “Ellie,” Lizzie said helplessly.

  “Emma’s done nothing wrong,” Ellie insisted. “You’re the one who didn’t want to room here.”

  Lizzie bit back a retort. Perfect Emma would never do anything wrong—except pollute Ellie’s mind against Lizzie by telling her Lizzie had chosen the managing editor position over their friendship.

  Although she had done that….it was her fault, not Emma’s.

  But she knew Ellie would forgive her if only she didn’t have Emma whispering in her ear. If only they still had their own rooms, and there were no boys, and no stupid owners.

  She opened her mouth to tell Ellie she did want to be her roommate, but she thought back to that first day. To before Bergie had offered her the managing editor position. She’d been obsessing over Ellie’s klutzy mess and how she always had sand in her hair and the way she never unpacked or threw anything away. Even now, glancing around the room, she saw gum wrappers on the bed and empty soda cans that probably had been sitting out all week.

  Had she ever really wanted to live with Ellie? Really?

  She’d already been wrestling with doubt, even from day one. She had pushed Ellie away. It was her fault. She clutched the book tighter, blinking away tears.

  “Lizzie, wait,” Ellie said.

  “No, it’s okay.” Lizzie cleared her throat. “You were right.”

  After a few moments, Lizzie turned and walked out.

  * * *

  Lizzie wandered the hall, not sure where she was headed, clutching the book to her chest. In her daze, she bumped into a few students, excusing herself and continuing on her way.

  Maybe the person she’d been wrong about wasn’t Ellie and wasn’t Dante.

  Maybe the person she was most wrong about was herself.

  She thought she was a journalist, a person of integrity, when really she’d sold out her friend for power. It went against everything in the Jasta code of ethics, everything the school had been founded on.

  Lizzie pulled the book tighter to her chest as she rounded the corner from the boarding hall into the classroom wing. She looked down at the book, then thought back to the Jasta founders.

  An idea sparked.

  She headed straight to the Journalism room. Even though all academic classrooms were closed during the weekend, except for the occasional room being used by a student club, as managing editor of the Gazette, Lizzie had a key.

  She let herself inside and headed straight for the microfiche. Emma’s gift had given her an idea—she had to go back into the history of the Academy to save it. Unfortunately, the Jane Austen Academy had not yet gotten around to upgrading all their archives into the digital age, and most of the early Gazette articles, as well as the Academy’s founding documents, were still on the ancient, old-fashioned films that had to be viewed under a special microscope-like reader.

  She set herself up in front of the microfiche reader, snagged the first index-card sized microfiche with the first-ever edition of the Gazette, and slipped it under the lens. She pulled her chair closer, rested her eye on the viewing lens, and began to read.

  “What are you doing here?”

  Lizzie looked up from the microfiche lens to find Anne standing in the doorway.

  “Anne! Are you okay?” Before Lizzie knew it, she was walking to Anne and hugging her. She felt Anne nodding against her shoulder. She pulled back. “What happened? Where did you go this morning at Rick’s?”

  “For a walk.”

  She and Anne strolled back to the front counter and sat on their stools.

  “Just a random walk?”

  “Through Merrywood,” Anne said. “Since Rick got here, my head’s been so turned around with what he’s been doing here and what that means for us. Whether things could go back to how they were—I think that’s why his rejection hurt me more than anything else. It’s just more of a sign that things are changing and I can’t stop them. This isn’t my school anymore.”

  “Yes, it is,” Lizzie said with determination. “That’s why I’m here. I’m not denying that things are changing. They are. But not everything has to change. We just have to make the new students love the Jane Austen Academy for the same reasons we do. For the same reasons the first class of students did. That’s what I’m doing—looking back at the first Gazette. We need to remind ourselves of what this institution stands for so we can all be proud of it.”

  “But what does it matter, if the new owners don’t care?”

  “We make them care,” Lizzie said.

  “How can we if we don’t even know who they are?”

  “Well, yeah.” Lizzie smiled. “About that…”

  Chapter Twelve

  “Are you ready?” Anne asked.

  Lizzie surveyed the busy lunch room. It was packed, a student in every chair. An uncharacteristic drizzle had set in during morning classes, so no one was eager to eat their lunch on the lawn. Instead, they crowded around the long tables, fitting their trays on top of one other as they found a place to squeeze in.

  “Yes,” Lizzie said resolutely. She took a deep breath. She scanned for Ellie and Emma, who sat across from each other at the end of a table across the room. She found Dante, Rick, and Edward sitting together nearby. Anne gave her an encouraging nod as she hugged the pamphlets close to her chest.

  Lizzie strode to the centermost lunch table and jumped up on it.

  “What the—” The students at that table reared back. One pulled back her tray. Another reached for his milk carton.

  “May I have your attention, please,” Lizzie yelled over the din.

  The noise gave way to silence, except for the occasional squeak of a shoe tapping against the floor or someone sipping a drink.

  “Thank you, Jasta students! I’ll only take a moment of your time.”

  Anne quickly walked through the lunch room, handing out a pamphlet to each student who would take one.

  “As you know, Headmistress Berg announced that the name of our academy, the Jane Austen Academy, would be changed under the new ownership.” Lizzie’s gaze flickered to Dante, who was gripping his fork tightly. “Under the school’s charter, we have a right to petition the new owners not to change the name. I know many of you haven’t been coming here long. In fact, at least half of you wouldn’t have been allowed on school grounds if you’d tried to enter last May.”

  A few people in the crowd grumbled, and Lizzie knew she had to regroup quickly.

  “But that’s kind of the point,” she said. “Anne is handing out a pamphlet of articles from the very first printing of the Gazette in 1873, when it was founded by her great-great-great-great-great-grandmother—specifically because she couldn’t find a good school that would allow her daughter on the premises.”

  She could hear the rustling of paper as people bent over their pamphlets. Someone turned the page into a paper airplane, which he threw into the air. A trickle of laughter filled the room. Another airplane went flying, but Dante caught it, crumpled it, and tossed it in the trash.

  Lizzie shot him a puzzled look—was he trying to help her? Regardless, she had to forge on.

  “An
ne’s great-great-great-great-great-grandmother chose to call our school the Jane Austen Academy, not only because that was her favorite author, but because Jane Austen wrote about the limitations imposed on girls at the time. The name of the school was supposed to be a reminder that we didn’t have to accept things the way they were. That things could change. I’m okay with how things have changed. Letting in boys was a good change.”

  Somebody woo-hooed from the back and another crowd clapped.

  “Yes! That’s right,” Lizzie said, clapping herself to encourage the noise. “Change is good! Change that tears down limitations and barriers is good. Change that brings in friendly competition is good. But not all change is good. Changing the name of the Jane Austen Academy means changing the values of our school, the principles upon which it was founded.”

  She could hear the fast clicking of heels. Bergie was running into the cafeteria—God knew who had called her to tell her what Lizzie was doing.

  “Please consider signing the petition to keep our name,” she said quickly as she stepped down from the table. Bergie reached her, arms folded across the front of another bright orange sheath dress.

  “Up to no good, Lizzie?” she said.

  “It’s within the school’s charter,” Lizzie said. “And what’s wrong with a little history lesson?”

  “Nothing,” Bergie said with a fake, sweet smile. “As long as you realize it won’t make a difference. The new owners have the sole discretion to rename this school, regardless of the student body’s recommendation. I suppose you’ll expect me to pass on your petition?”

  “No,” Lizzie said with a triumphant smirk. She hopped off the table and leaned close enough to Bergie to whisper in her ear. “I’ll just ask Georgiana to hand it over to her parents.”

  She allowed herself a split second to enjoy the shock in Bergie’s widening eyes before she turned around and flounced out of the cafeteria with Anne.

  * * *

  “How are we supposed to cover your lunch announcement?” Georgiana asked once the entire staff had congregated in the Journalism room. “Won’t it be weird to cover the news when you were the news?”

  Georgiana had no idea how weird all of this was, Lizzie realized. No idea of her part in the new school’s ownership. Why didn’t she? And why would her parents buy the school in the first place? She had since researched Dante’s record and he had been at the top of his class at Exeter—a shoo-in for Georgetown without the transfer.

  “I’ll handle it as an editorial,” Lizzie said. “There’s too much bias to pretend otherwise.”

  “I have a lot of supportive on-the-street interviews,” Georgiana said. “But lots of indifferent ones, too.”

  “That’s fine,” Lizzie said. “Why don’t we go for a quick walk?”

  Georgiana tried to hide her surprise. Lizzie rarely singled out any one reporter for conversation, but Lizzie knew there was a story here. She’d suspected it from day one with Georgiana, even before she knew her parents had bought Jasta. Now the instinct was practically screaming at her. She wanted to report on Dante’s parents being the new owners, but she suspected she didn’t know the whole story, and as a responsible reporter, she had to.

  She waited patiently as Georgiana put on her coat and the two of them wandered outside in the light drizzle.

  “It’s almost never this chilly,” Lizzie said almost apologetically, as Georgiana buried herself deeper in her coat.

  “I don’t mind,” Georgiana said. “It reminds me of home. I mean…you know, my real home.”

  “You miss it?”

  Georgiana nodded.

  “You didn’t want to leave, did you? What happened?”

  Georgiana stopped, her hands in her pockets, staring at the wet grass.

  “Are you okay?” Lizzie rested a hand on her arm.

  She nodded, but began shaking and pressed the back of her hand to her nose as she drew in a sob.

  Lizzie felt awful. She ran her hands in tight circles on Georgiana’s back, trying to be comforting. “It’s okay, we don’t have to talk about it. We don’t.” She wanted the story, but Georgiana seemed so distressed.

  “No, it’s okay. I should talk about it. That’s what my therapist says—although Dante and my mom and dad would kill him if they knew. But I should talk about it.”

  “Would you rather talk to someone else? If it’s too weird…with me…being a journalist and all.”

  “It’s good to talk to you. You don’t treat me like a child—like Dante used to. Like I’m breakable. Although I guess that’s my fault.”

  Georgiana resumed walking, leading them to a private grove of trees near the auditorium. “I got in trouble last year. You know, the kind of trouble that is a nightmare for every parent with a daughter in high school. He was cute. He was charming. He wasn’t into protection.”

  “Oh.” Georgiana suddenly transformed in her eyes—she’d been seeing her as young and naïve, but apparently she was more than that. She was worldly and sad.

  “My parents were horrified. They were going to send me to Europe for a year. Hide me away in the mountains. Dante beat the guy up and got expelled from his school, although I’m sure my parents managed to clean up his records.”

  It explained why he’d had to leave Exeter, but still not why their parents had bought the Jane Austen Academy—there were a dozen other reputable places to send him.

  “When I miscarried, the worst part of it was how happy my parents were,” Georgiana said, her voice a crack upon a whisper. “It’s not like I wanted to be a teen mom, but they were celebrating. They opened a bottle of champagne.” Georgiana closed her eyes.

  “I’m so sorry—it must have been awful.”

  “It was,” Georgiana said. “And I did want a fresh start. I couldn’t stand to be around them after they’d practically thrown a ball in honor of my baby dying. But I didn’t want to be hidden away in Europe, either. I said I wanted California. And this is the best school in California.”

  “So you wanted to come to the Jane Austen Academy?”

  Georgiana nodded. “The brochures—all these girls that just seemed to know what they wanted in life. I wanted that, too. It was such a coincidence that the school allowed boys the same year, because Dante swore up and down that I wasn’t going to a school without him.”

  He had? Dante had insisted on going to school with his sister?

  Suddenly everything clicked for Lizzie.

  Why his parents had bought the school. How it ended up co-ed.

  It was him. It had always been him.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Lizzie knocked on Ellie’s door.

  It swung open. Emma stood there in a pair of silk pajamas. She opened it further and Lizzie could see Ellie in her trademark board shorts and tank top, lying on her stomach on the bed poring over a math textbook. Ellie looked up.

  Lizzie flashed her clipboard. “Can I count on you guys for signatures?”

  “Of course. Come in,” Emma said, gesturing.

  Lizzie handed her the clipboard as she walked in. Emma scribbled her signature. “Great talk at lunch, by the way.”

  “It wasn’t too much?” Lizzie asked.

  “Of course it was,” Emma said. “But that’s what I liked about it.”

  “You gave me the idea, you know.”

  “I did?” Emma’s glance flipped to Ellie. “Did you hear that?”

  “She did?” Ellie sat up, cross-legged.

  “Yeah, when you gave me the book of old newspaper features, it inspired me to go back to the original issues of the Gazette. That’s where I read all the articles on the founding and how the original students felt when the doors opened. That’s when I realized that by trying to keep out boys, I was guilty of the same thing the original students had been victimized by.”

  “Wow!” Emma grinned. “I’m like your muse.”

  “Let’s not take it that far,” Lizzie said. “But I did want to say thank you.” She turned to Ellie. “And sorry. I
’m so sorry, Ellie—I got all caught up—”

  Ellie was off the bed and hugging her before she could even finish. “I hate it when we fight,” Ellie whispered.

  “Me, too.” Lizzie pulled away, took the clipboard from Emma, and handed it to Ellie. “But it seems like it all worked out. Else we would never have gotten the Blondies.”

  Ellie rolled her eyes and signed the sheet in the clipboard.

  “Are you guys cool now?” Emma asked. “The world doesn’t seem right otherwise.”

  “We have to do one more thing,” Lizzie said.

  “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Ellie asked.

  “Yeah—but we have to grab someone first.”

  * * *

  Anne craned her neck to see the very top of the oldest, largest apple tree. “Is this safe?”

  “No,” Lizzie said. “That’s why we do it.”

  She and Ellie looked at other and smiled. Ellie went first, scaling the tree like it was a ladder, her long arms and lean limbs easily grabbing holds along the way. Lizzie went next. Although she was shorter, she climbed this tree every year, and every year it got easier.

  “I wish you’d warned me not to wear heels,” Emma called up the tree.

  “Who wears heels with silk pajamas?” Lizzie called down. “Kick them off!”

  “Are you nuts? These are Prada,” Emma yelled.

  With each branch she gained, Lizzie felt the wind pick up in her hair. Her clothes were getting wet from the mist and the moisture off the tree trunk, but she didn’t care and she could tell Ellie didn’t, either. The ground fell further and further away. Lizzie felt heady and a little dizzy. She loved it.

  She finally reached the top branch and perched up next to Ellie. Sitting like this, with their feet dangling in space, it almost felt like flying. That there was nothing above, around, or beneath them.

  She heard a squeak as Anne’s foot slipped off a branch, but she held on.

  “Whose idea was this?” Emma asked as she held precariously onto the trunk.