Devious
Page 8
Isaac snapped his fingers in mock disappointment, but in his thick gloves, his fingers didn’t exactly snap. “I didn’t even think of spiking it. I guess I’m still learning.” They headed toward the woods, away from the warm yellow lights shining through the windows of dorm rooms. In the distance, Jenny could hear a few students heading to Maxwell for the open mic night that a group of seniors had organized, and the faint strumming of a guitar. Even though their laughing voices sounded happy, Jenny was right where she wanted to be.
“So…” Jenny asked, curling her toes in her boots to keep them warm. Up ahead, the woods loomed, and she thought of the Robert Frost poem with the line “The woods are lovely, dark, and deep.” “You like Waverly so far?”
Isaac glanced sideways at her. “It’s got its pluses.” Then he laughed. “I signed up to take a class instead of doing an independent project. I’m taking beginning Mandarin.”
“Wow.” Jenny rubbed her hands together. Waverly offered intensive courses in each of the foreign languages it taught over Jan Plan for students who wanted to get ahead. “That sounds ambitious.”
Isaac grinned. “I don’t know. I kind of like a challenge.” He raised his eyebrows suggestively and held a snow-covered pine tree bough out of the way as Jenny stepped onto the path to the crater. “I mean, academically.”
“Of course.” Jenny giggled and ducked under the branch. “I hope I can still find the way. The last time I was here, it wasn’t exactly snow-covered.” But just as she said that, the narrow path opened into a clearing. A giant saucer-shaped depression lay in front of them, covered in a foot of perfect, untrammeled snow. “Ah! Ta-da!”
“Perfect.” Isaac headed toward one of the giant logs at the edge of the crater. Enterprising Owls had dragged fallen trees around the edges of the depression years ago, to create a kind of sunken amphitheater. He swiped his gloves across it, sending the snow flurrying to the ground. Then he pulled a thick fleece blanket from his bag and spread it out across the top of the log. “And now you don’t have to freeze your butt off.”
“I’ve never had such service before.” Jenny pressed the back of her hand to her forehead in a fake swoon, sitting down on the blanket. Isaac twisted the cap off the thermos and poured a steaming cup of hot chocolate for Jenny. “But I guess I’ve also never been on a winter picnic before.”
“You’re missing out.” The aroma of cocoa combined with the healthy pine smell of the forest and Jenny settled in, wrapping the corner of the blanket over her lap. Isaac sat down next to her, the sleeve of his thick coat brushing slightly against her own. There were so many layers between them, but Jenny still felt a little charge.
She took a tiny sip of the steaming liquid. “This is delicious.”
Isaac grinned. “It’s an old recipe… also known as Swiss Miss.” He fumbled through his bag for something else and pulled out a pair of dark gloves. “I forgot—I brought extra gloves, in case you needed them.” Before she knew what he was doing, he had grabbed her hand and was holding it in his. “Yours don’t really seem warm enough.”
Her gloves weren’t, but her hand still felt the electricity of his touch jolt through them. Reluctantly, she pulled her hand away, taking the extra pair of gloves with her. “You’re so prepared,” she teased, but really she was incredibly flattered. How was it even possible that Isaac could be so thoughtful? He was a teenage boy, after all.
Isaac rubbed his own hands together and laughed. “I know that you girls are kind of, you know, delicate flowers.”
“Hey.” Jenny slapped him playfully with her newly warm hand. “I’m no delicate flower. You should have seen me play field hockey this fall.”
“You have no idea how sorry I am that I missed it.” Isaac laughed. He picked up a tree branch from the ground and raked it across the smooth white snow at the edge of the crater. “You know, you don’t seem like all the other prep-school girls.”
“What do you mean?” Jenny asked slowly. Not that she minded someone telling her she wasn’t like the other Waverly girls. She didn’t really feel like them—and she’d made her peace with that. But she wanted to know what it was about her that made it so obvious. It couldn’t be just that she wore clothing from the Gap.
Isaac shrugged, digging a little hole with the end of the branch. “I dunno. Just ’cause of my dad, we’ve been around schools like Waverly my whole life. And there’s always some cool people… but there’s always a lot of… you know.” He stared up at the sky. “Girls who only care about pearl earrings and designer clothes.”
“There’s plenty of shallow boys here, too,” Jenny pointed out. Even as she said it, she kept staring at his gorgeous, full lips and thinking how nice they’d feel to kiss. His mouth was probably warm and cocoa-flavored. “But there’s also a lot of nice people.”
Isaac looked at Jenny’s face thoughtfully. She’d never seen eyes the color of his, an almost celery shade of green. “I like that you watch people. I saw you doing it that first day in the chapel. Your eyes were just sort of taking everything in. Thinking about it.” He brushed a lock of dark hair off his forehead. “I kinda thought you might be an artist, then.”
Jenny felt her skin start to glow. His eyes were staring right at her in a look that made her feel completely naked. Her lips parted, but she couldn’t think what to say.
Just then, a bright light shone on her face. Standing ten feet away from them was Ben, the cranky, middle-aged grounds-keeper, holding his flashlight firmly on their faces. Gotcha! his face seemed to scream. He lived for getting kids into trouble.
Jenny squealed and scrambled to her feet, sending her cup of hot chocolate spraying across the snow. Ben had famously caught Heath Ferro smoking pot out on the soccer fields last year, and Heath had to bribe him with his expensive Cartier watch in order to keep his mouth shut. The groundskeeper probably had no need for Jenny’s pink Swatch watch.
But Isaac got to his feet calmly. “Oh, hey, Mr. Greenwood.” He stepped toward Ben, who had reluctantly lowered his light. “Nice night for a walk, huh?”
To her complete surprise, the old man actually chuckled. “I don’t know about that.” He shook his head slowly. “Awfully chilly. But you kids keep warm, y’hear?”
Isaac laughed and casually draped his arm over Jenny’s shoulder. “Thanks, Mr. Greenwood. You want any hot chocolate?”
Ben laughed again and turned. “No, thanks. I’ve got some soup on the stove, waiting for me to get home. G’night.” Jenny stared after him as he marched away.
It took a minute before she found her voice. “I think that just took three years off my life.” She pressed her gloves to her heart as if to slow it down.
“You okay?”
Jenny was acutely aware of the fact that Isaac’s arm was still on her shoulder. “It’s just… I don’t think I’ve ever seen that man crack a smile before.”
Isaac laughed and stepped away from Jenny. “Mr. Greenwood? He’s a puppy dog.”
Jenny settled back onto the log. “A puppy dog? Normally he’s a Rottweiler.” Her heart was still beating from the surprise of getting caught. “You know, I’ve actually kind of been in trouble before. I totally felt like it was going to happen again.”
“You? In trouble? Now that’s a story I want to hear.” Isaac leaned over to pick up Jenny’s fallen cup. He dusted the snow off with his sleeve and refilled it for her. “Refill?” he said, holding it out.
Jenny smiled and took the cup of cocoa, but she couldn’t relax completely. She was grateful that the groundskeeper wasn’t going to bust her for being off campus, but she was starting to wonder how this whole dating-the-dean’s-son thing was going to work.
But then she caught Isaac smiling at her and decided she might be okay with special treatment, after all.
Email Inbox
From: BrettMesserschmidt@waverly.edu
To: DevonSprague@waverly.edu
Date: Wednesday, January 5, 3:43 P.M.
Subject: Coffee?
Devon,
Listen, I was wondering if you’d mind doing a little favor for a field hockey teammate? I was just hoping for a little background info on someone and I heard you were the right person to talk to. Can I buy you a cup of coffee? Today or tomorrow? Let me know!
Brett
Email Inbox
From: DevonSprague@waverly.edu
To: BrettMesserschmidt@waverly.edu
Date: Wednesday, January 5, 5:23 P.M.
Subject: Re: Coffee?
Brett,
Mmm, sounds intriguing. How about tomorrow at 11am? If this is about who I think it’s about, we’ll have a lot to talk about. =)
See you then!
D
WildernessMan Log: Heath vs. Wild
Day 3
Woke up in the middle of the night to what looked like my mother’s overweight Persian cat digging through my pack. I called out its name, Here Peeshie, Here Peeshie before I realized that it wasn’t my mother’s cat but a goddamn raccoon. I yelled and he ran away, a pack of dehydrated ice cream in his teeth. Fucker. My last end-of-day treat. Are raccoons edible? Maybe I’ll teach that fattie a lesson and fry him up.
Noon temp: 20 degress F. WTF? Abnormally cold this time of year. Gotta roll with it.
Food: Sat in tree watching snare trap, but squirrels and chipmunks avoiding it. Do they talk to each other? Don’t they know I’m just trying to survive? Can’t they help a brother out? Went for hike to search for berries, but none exist. Even looked for bugs to eat, but none big enough to have any nutritional value. Broke into my emergency jerky reserves. Hate to have to do that so early, but feeling kind of weak. Not sure it’s all from hunger.
Warmth: Foot fell asleep this morning for about 45 minutes. Thought it might be frostbite, but eventually feeling returned. Slept w/ BB’s sleeping bag wrapped around mine. Helped a little.
Mood: Keep hoping more skiers will come around. Or snowshoers. Gets kind of quiet listening to birds chirp. Kind of lonely, too. But that’s what you’ve gotta deal with when you’re a WildernessMan.
14
A WAVERLY OWL DOES NOT DRINK IN HER DORM ROOM—OR IN THE DEAN’S DAUGHTER’S ROOM.
“Don’t even think about leaving yet.” Isla pressed herself against the closed door of her bedroom on the first floor of the dean’s house. The room was very non-Isla—the white four-poster bed was covered with a faded floral quilt trimmed with lace, and frilly white curtains draped across the windows. The walls were painted a shade of cotton-candy pink that only a five-year-old girl who dreamed of being a princess could love. “I’ve got something that’s only fun when shared.”
“That sounds intriguing,” Tinsley replied, flicking open her phone to check the time. “But I’m supposed to meet Julian soon.” They were meeting up in half an hour, and she definitely didn’t want to be late. It was Wednesday night, and she’d somehow managed to not see him at all for the past few days. She’d been so busy with Isla, scouting places around campus for photo shoots. They’d just come back from pawing through the overcrowded racks at Next to New, the secondhand clothing store in town, to drop off their bags of loot onto Isla’s shaggy white rug.
“Come on.” Isla threw her jacket onto her bed and opened the top drawer of her antique-looking bureau. Isla pulled out a bottle of Ketel One from under a pair of black silk pajamas. “We’ve been working all day. You need to chill out a little first.”
Tinsley considered. She could use a pick-me-up—and there was something really illicit and exciting about drinking in the dean’s house. Especially when he and his wife were playing backgammon in the living room. “How can I refuse? And nice room, by the way,” Tinsley added, giggling.
The room was neat and clean, the only decoration on the pink walls one of the Waverly calendars sent out to parents and alumni. It was filled with scenic campus pictures and “candids” of students looking well fed and healthy in the library and on the quad.
“I think Marymount had a kindergartener with a princess complex.” Isla laughed as she grabbed two shot glasses from the drawer. She set the glasses and the bottle on the floor next to a rocking chair. “I kind of dig it. It makes me feel like I’m living in a dollhouse. Besides, it was the only bedroom on the first floor, so I had to take advantage.” Isla poured a generous shot of vodka into each of the shot glasses and handed one to Tinsley.
Tinsley sat down on the shaggy white rug and tucked her black tiered Charlotte Ronson skirt around her knees. “Funny, I never saw a dollhouse with a shot glass like this,” she laughed, examining her glass. Imprinted on the side was a picture of a hula girl holding up a wreath of flowers over the words I got lei’d in Maui.
“I collect them,” Isla said proudly, holding up her own glass, which was imprinted with Cyrillic-looking writing. “It says ‘Russian girls do it better.’” She shrugged. “I’m half Russian, so I guess I do it half better.”
“What are we drinking to?” Tinsley asked, clinking her shot glass against Isla’s.
“To new friends.” Isla smiled deviously.
Tinsley tossed the liquid down her throat, enjoying the burn. “And to making people stare.”
Isla laughed and walked to her closet, pulling off her sweater in a rush of static. She hung it neatly on a hook before throwing on a plain white men’s dress shirt, only buttoning half the buttons. Tinsley had always wished she had a brother: not only did it guarantee cute boys around the house, but she also loved wearing men’s shirts, and just buying a new white men’s button-down from Bloomie’s didn’t do it for her. You had to have one so worn-in it was tissue-soft with the undeniable scent of a former owner still clinging to it.
Isla flicked on her stereo, and the sounds of The Raconteurs filled the room. She refilled the shot glasses. “Only trouble is, now we have to outdo ourselves.”
That afternoon, they’d found a couple of gorgeous vintage prom dresses in the theater department’s costume room and had pranced around the crowded dining hall wearing them. Tinsley had worn a delicate, seafoam green satin bodice with a full ballerina-style tulle skirt, while Isla donned a lavender strapless dress with a sweetheart neckline, her hair in a loose upsweep. They took turns photographing each other as they walked through the lunch line, the plastic dining hall trays contrasting with their frilly dresses. All the girls had stared at them jealously, while the guys looked on with dreamy expressions. Tinsley loved the feel of everyone’s eyes locked to her, and the sounds of whispers as she strolled by. It felt like the good old days.
Tinsley stretched out her long legs in front of her as she downed another shot. Before she knew it, two hours had passed. Isla was interested in hearing all about Tinsley, and Tinsley loved talking to someone from outside the Waverly bubble.
“Shit,” Tinsley exclaimed finally, staring at her phone. The shots of vodka had blurred together and she’d been with Isla for hours longer than she’d planned. It was almost midnight. “I’ve got to get to Julian’s.” She jumped to her feet, wavering slightly. She had to put a steadying hand on Isla’s dresser as she slid into her black ankle boots.
“Whoa, girl.” Isla laughed, swinging her bare feet to the floor. “You sure you can make it out the window?” She hoisted up her window with a noisy squeak.
“Don’t worry about me.” Tinsley blew her a kiss as she slung her legs through the window and let her body fall gently to the ground. Her head buzzed pleasantly, and the snow glittered in the moonlight. The campus was nearly silent, and all Tinsley could think about was Julian. She was late—really late—and she hoped he hadn’t gone to bed yet.
She knocked at his window. Thank God for first-floor bedrooms. The curtains were drawn, but a faint light shone through. She thought she could hear the murmur of music. She knocked harder, her bare knuckles rapping against the cold glass.
Finally, Julian’s face appeared at the window. He seemed surprised to see her, but he quickly opened the window and held
out a hand. She grabbed it and tried to pull herself up, but the bottoms of her shoes kept sliding down the brick wall. Eventually, she was able to climb over the ledge, her feet landing softly on Julian’s floor.
“I must be out of practice.” She giggled. She dusted herself off and threw her coat on Julian’s roommate’s empty bed. “Hey, baby.” Tinsley turned to Julian and threw her arms around his neck.
Julian stiffened and gave her a funny smile. “Hey.”
“Sorry I’m late.” She pressed her cheek to his chest. He felt so warm and delicious. “Isla and I were just having so much fun working on our project. It’s just… the coolest project ever.”
“Uh-huh.” Julian disentangled himself from Tinsley’s arms and sat down on his bed, yawning. He wore a plain white T-shirt and a pair of striped gray flannel Abercrombie & Fitch pajama bottoms.
“Were you sleeping?” Tinsley teased, crawling into bed with him. “That’s so cute.”
“I didn’t think you were coming.” Julian let her kiss him, briefly, before leaning back on his elbows. “And, dude, take your boots off. You’re getting snow in my bed.”
Tinsley kicked her boots to the floor and then crawled back next to Julian. “Isla has an amazing eye. We’re doing this whole series of photographs of ourselves in these high-contrast poses. Everything looks so gorgeous so far,” Tinsley gushed drunkenly.
Julian pushed a piece of pale brown hair out of his face. He smelled like soap, and Tinsley wanted to kiss him all over. “Yeah. I heard what you’re doing.” He shrugged. “Everyone has.”
“What does that mean?” Tinsley sat up straight. She definitely didn’t care for his tone. Tiny alarm bells started to go off in her head.