Devious

by Cecily von Ziegesar

  She stared up at the sky through the green-and-yellow window. There was a knot in the pit of her stomach. She took a deep breath through her nose, trying to calm her nerves. What were the odds that Isla could actually get on the roof? Maybe Tinsley should go check on her.

  The music changed to something jazzy and mellow and soothing, and before she could move, Tinsley finally spotted a shadow above the window. She sucked in her breath. She could just make out the silhouette of Isla, whose body was leaning against the stained glass—and it was perfect. In awe, Tinsley clicked away. Isla was a genius. It was the perfect photograph, the epitome of contrast. A soft, shadowy body backlit against the hard-edged glass design. Isla spread her arms out, like wings. It looked like an angel had landed on the window.

  A cold wind rushed up the stairs like a premonition, and Tinsley glanced down at the open door. Several of the candles on the stairs blew out. Two guys stepped through the doorway, but before Tinsley could register who they were, a terrible sound came from above. It took her a moment to realize what it was.

  The cracking of glass.

  Stunned, but still drunk, Tinsley’s eyes flew back to the skylight. A dozen snaking cracks appeared in the design. Oh my God. Tinsley opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came out. The people dancing on the black marble floor of the foyer hadn’t noticed anything was wrong. Yet.

  Once the glass started to break away from the skylight, everything moved in slow motion. Pieces of glass started to fall, making everyone on the dance floor look up. Someone shrieked. Benny and Alan St. Girard had been slow dancing, but they quickly jumped apart and joined the crush of bodies trying to crowd around the edges of the room. Everyone’s eyes were pointed upward, people shielding their eyes with their hands to avoid the falling glass shards.

  “There’s someone up there!” Jenny’s high-pitched voice called out. “It’s a person!”

  The sight of Isla’s arms and legs outstretched, suspended in air above the foyer like some kind of magic trick, was strangely beautiful. Then Isla’s body tumbled from its perch and, almost like it was floating, descended through the air. Camera still in hand, Tinsley reached out over the banister, as if there were something she could do to break her fall. She wished, crazily, that she could take a picture now of how gorgeous Isla looked in midair.

  Tinsley held her breath as she waited for the moment of disaster. But suddenly someone rushed forward, stuck out his arms, and caught Isla, as if she were weightless. There was screaming as everyone crowded around them. Tinsley slowly made her way down the stairs, watching as people shook glass off their clothes and checked to make sure their friends were okay. Partygoers rushed in all directions, toward Isla and the guy who’d caught her, out the door, anywhere.

  Tinsley stopped in the middle of the stairway. She hadn’t been able to take her eyes off Isla’s face. She looked shaken but unharmed. Finally, she tore her eyes away to see who was holding her friend. She blinked.

  She suddenly wasn’t so drunk anymore. The person holding Isla was awfully familiar.

  Instant Message Inbox

  SebastianValenti: Can you talk to me, please?

  SebastianValenti: PLEASE?

  [No response from BrettMesserschmidt.]

  22

  A WAVERLY OWL WELCOMES BACK AN OLD FRIEND WITH OPEN ARMS.

  “You know what we should do next weekend? Head up to Whiteface. Heath’s parents said we could use their condo whenever we wanted this January.” Brandon stroked his fingers against the side of Callie’s cheek, and she closed her eyes. After the requisite socializing with their friends, she and Brandon had sneaked away. They’d found a cozy little den in the back of the house with an enormous fireplace. It wasn’t lit, of course, but Brandon had stolen a couple of candles from the living room and placed them in the empty fireplace. He’d also brought a bottle of red wine, and now the two of them sat on an old couch that sagged in the middle, forcing them to snuggle in even more.

  “The Ferros said you could use it?” Callie asked, shifting slightly, letting Brandon catch a glimpse down her plunging V-neck Rebecca Taylor dress. Underneath she wore her sexiest black lace-lined Cosabella camisole covered in rose petals and matching panties. It had been a long time since she had the urge to wear a matching set—without a boyfriend, it just seemed silly. “I thought Heath was banned after he left a condom there at his last party.”

  Brandon ran his fingers across Callie’s collarbone. “Oh, he’s not allowed to go there again.” He chuckled. “But they love me. Last time I saw them, they gave me a key.”

  Callie laughed, reclining into the corner of the couch. “That would be fun. We could get a whole bunch of people to come up with us—Brett and Sebastian. Tinsley and Julian—well, not them, I guess, since that’s kind of over.” Callie smiled up at Brandon. Being with him was so… easy. He was sweet and kind, and constantly told her how gorgeous she was. She’d noticed the jealous eyes following them as they’d headed down the darkened hallway to the den. Making the female population of Waverly jealous was a nice little bonus.

  Brandon leaned back on the couch. He picked up his wineglass and swirled it like an expert. “Yeah, he was a wreck when we played squash yesterday. Sounds like she was pretty harsh with him.”

  Callie frowned. “She didn’t tell me much about it. She’s always with Isla.”

  “It would be kind of fun if it was the two of us, alone, too. Right?” Brandon tickled Callie’s bare leg and she giggled. It was so silly. Brandon had been here all along. He wasn’t Easy Walsh, of course, but maybe that was a good thing. Easy was dangerous. Brandon was nice.

  “Maybe,” Callie answered automatically, even though the idea of the two of them alone sounded a little boring. She would work on him about the idea of having a ski party. They would be the hosts, like Isaac and Jenny tonight, and everyone would be completely jealous of what a gorgeous, elegant couple they made. She leaned forward to kiss him, and his mouth eagerly met hers. His hands slid behind her head, running through her hair. How many people did the condo sleep? Callie wondered, kissing him back absentmindedly as she planned out the guest list.

  Her plans were interrupted by the sounds of shrieking coming from the front of the house. “What the hell is that?” Callie sprang to her feet, straightening her dress. She definitely didn’t want to get caught by the new dean making out in his den.

  Teague Williams, the senior basketball player, poked his head through the doorway of the den, reeking of weed. “Dude, all kinds of shit is happening.”

  “Is the dean back?” Callie asked, grabbing Brandon’s hand and dragging him to his feet.

  “Worse,” Teague replied, his eyes glazed over with the stoner look. He stumbled over an ottoman as he made his way back out of the room. “The roof’s caved in. Or something.”

  “Holy shit,” Brandon whispered, still holding Callie’s hand as he followed her through the crush of people in the living room. Everyone seemed to be clustered around the giant arched doorway that led to the foyer. Callie stood on her tiptoes, struggling to see over everyone’s heads.

  “She fell from the sky!” Verena Arneval kept repeating, a traumatized look on her pretty face. Lon had his arm around her shoulder and was rubbing her bare arm.

  “Shit,” Callie whispered, elbowing her way to the front of the crowd. “Come on,” she snapped over her shoulder at Brandon as he struggled to keep up. Her feet crunched against the broken glass pieces that covered the floor as she stepped around Verena and Lon until she could see the center of the action. She gasped.

  The scene in front of her was like something from a movie—shattered glass everywhere, girls with faces frozen in terror. It didn’t seem real. Up above, where the skylight had been, there was a gaping, jagged hole looking out into the moonlit night. “Someone really did fall through the ceiling,” Callie murmured. In the background, someone finally switched off the music, as if realizing the sound of Jason Mraz blaring through the sound system was somehow inappropriate.
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  Standing in the middle of it all was Isla Dresden, covered in broken glass, in the arms of a tall muscular guy. Her heart-shaped face was pale and shaken-looking, and her bare arms were covered in dark scratches. Callie felt badly for her. She hoped she wouldn’t have any scars.

  The guy finally set Isla carefully on her feet, and a shaky cheer rose up. Callie squinted at him curiously. His back was to her, but something about him was so familiar. That coat, a faded brown canvas thing. Something that looked standard issue or military. The wine had slowed Callie’s brain, and she was struggling to put it together. The guy kept his arm around Isla protectively, even though she was safely on her own two feet.

  Wait, that coat. She’d seen it, just once before. Could it really be…

  Then, in one heart-pounding moment, she realized:

  It was Easy.

  Callie sucked in her breath, feeling like she’d fallen through the ceiling herself. What the hell was Easy doing back at Waverly? In his military school coat that he’d worn that terrible day, on top of the Empire State Building. When Callie handed him back the promise ring he’d given her. How did he get here? And why?

  And why the fuck did he still have his arm around the dean’s daughter?

  A queasy, shaky, slightly nauseated feeling started in the pit of her stomach and somehow managed to creep up her throat and down her arms until she felt her whole body start to quake.

  As if he could feel her stare, Easy looked up. His blue eyes met Callie’s across the room, and a jolt of lightning shot through her. She couldn’t think of a single thing to do besides mouth the word Hi.

  He mouthed it back to her. His arm was still supporting Isla, damsel in distress, but Callie watched Easy’s eyes turn to Brandon, who was still holding Callie’s hand. Flustered, Callie let his hand drop.

  “You okay?” Brandon looked back and forth from Callie to the glass-strewn scene in front of them. The second he saw Easy Walsh, he knew it was trouble. And Callie’s face proved he was right. “Come on. We should get out of here.”

  “Huh?” Callie stared at him as if she’d never seen him before. “I’m… okay.” She touched her forehead with her fingertips.

  “What’s he doing here?” Brandon asked, a lump in his throat. Of all the parties in all the world, why the hell did Easy Walsh have to wander into this one?

  “And is that… Heath?” Brandon stared at the bedraggled, bearded figure next to Easy, chugging a half-empty bottle of red wine like some kind of alcoholic who’d fallen off the wagon. His dirty blond hair looked tangled and filthy from his stay in the woods. His hunter green fleece was covered with crushed leaves, and his cheeks were wind-burned and stubbly.

  Callie finally met Brandon’s gaze. Now that Easy was back, nothing was the same. She’d forgotten all about Brandon the second Easy stepped through the doorway. It was like history repeating itself. “I…” Callie stammered.

  Brandon grabbed Callie’s hand and tugged her gently down the back hall toward the kitchen, away from the foyer. “Let’s get out of here. I’ll walk you home.”

  Callie glanced over her shoulder. She didn’t want Easy to see her leaving with Brandon, but he was no longer looking at her. He was pulling a piece of glass out of Isla’s hair.

  Callie blinked, then followed Brandon out the door.

  Jenny finally managed to push through the crowd to reach Isla and Easy, shards of glass glittering in her dark hair. She’d grabbed a broom from the hall closet, as if there were some way for her to sweep the whole mess under the rug. “It’s okay, everyone. Isla’s fine. Just, you know, stay calm.”

  She spun around the foyer. From the wreckage, it was impossible to believe Isla could actually be all right. But Isaac had checked her for broken bones, and Easy was still propping her up. Easy. Jenny’s stomach was shaking—she’d been in the foyer, on her way into the dining room, when Isla crashed through the window. And Easy had just reached out and plucked her from the air, like some kind of superhero. It was insane. Jenny had caught his eye as he stood there in a blur of shattered glass and screaming girls. When he smiled at her with those familiar deep blue eyes, Jenny’s heart almost stopped. He was stronger now from doing drills at military school, and more clean-cut. He even looked like a superhero.

  “You know…” Isaac looked at Jenny anxiously. “I think we should get everyone out of here as quickly as possible.”

  “Of course,” Jenny replied, staring at the floor. It was going to be a disaster to clean up, and to try and explain to the dean what happened. She might be able to keep the party a secret, but there was no concealing property damage. She was in deep, deep shit. “We’ve got a lot of cleaning up to do.”

  Isaac smiled when Jenny said “we.” “I didn’t mean that—just that I think the house has some kind of…” Before he could finish, through the open front door, the flashing lights of a campus security patrol car were visible as it pulled up the driveway.

  “Silent alarm,” he finished.

  “RUN!” Heath Ferro started grabbing the closest girls and herding them toward the back of the house. “Everyone head to the closest emergency exit!”

  “Everyone stay where you are!” the squat security officer shouted as he stepped out of his car and thundered up the front steps. “Don’t move!”

  Too late. The entire party quickly raced toward the kitchen exit or through the sliding glass doors in the living room. Jenny spotted a couple of guys throwing open a window in the dining room and jumping out into the bushes.

  Isaac pushed Jenny toward the kitchen, his hands warm against the small of her back. Sage Francis and a bunch of others funneled out the side door and rushed across the snowy yard back to the dorms, leaving a massive trail of footprints in their wake. The bare arms of the girls shone in the moonlight, and they ran faster to stay warm. “But I can’t leave you here to deal with this…” Jenny protested, a cold gust of wind sweeping into the kitchen. Sangria-encrusted wineglasses were scattered around the kitchen counters, and empty wine bottles were still stacked in the sink.

  “Go,” Isaac insisted, handing Jenny her red peacoat, which she’d left hanging next to the kitchen door. “I’ll think of something.”

  Still, Jenny paused in the doorway, reluctant to leave. She didn’t want Isaac to get in trouble, but she also didn’t want the dean to walk into his ruined house and find her there, either. The combination of sangria and adrenaline running through her veins made it hard to think straight. And just thinking about the disaster in the foyer made it feel like she had a block of ice sitting in her stomach. How the hell were they going to get out of that one?

  Isaac finally planted his hands on Jenny’s shoulders and shoved her, gently but firmly, toward the door. He winked at her, even though his face looked anxious. “I think my first Waverly party qualifies as a success.”

  Jenny tried to laugh as more people brushed by them, pushing them closer together. Isaac was so close, she could smell his toothpaste. He could probably count the freckles on her face. “Are you sure?” Despite the arrival of the security guards, she didn’t want to leave.

  “I had a lot of fun tonight. With you.” Isaac reached up to brush a loose curl off her cheek, and Jenny’s heart beat faster.

  “I had fun, too,” she said softly, staring at her shoes. She was frustrated that they didn’t have more time for goodbyes. The party had been so perfect, it was a shame it had to end like this. “I was kind of looking forward to cleaning up with you.”

  “Next time.” Isaac grinned. Someone stumbled on his way out the door, elbowing Jenny in the back and pressing her right into Isaac. His hands flew to her waist to steady her.

  Before she could register exactly what was happening, Isaac was bending down toward her. His lips touched softly against hers, and she felt a million butterflies fluttering in her stomach. Everything—the partygoers streaming out the door, the cold rush of air as it opened and closed, the smell of spilled sangria—faded into the background. Nothing mattered but the way
his lips felt against hers, and the minty taste of his mouth.

  Finally, Isaac pulled away. Jenny blinked as she returned to reality. It took her a second to realize she was still in the kitchen. A couple of stragglers stared at them as they scuttled out the door. “Okay, enough distracting me already,” Isaac said, touching Jenny’s elbow lightly. “You’ve got to get out of here.”

  “Are you sure?” Jenny asked, biting her lip. Her lips felt like they were on fire.

  “Positive.” He pushed her out the door as Rifat Jones and Lon Baruzza dashed out. Rifat shot Jenny a thumbs-up that Isaac pretended to ignore. Jenny’s legs managed to carry her down the short wooden staircase, but she still felt like she was floating. She glanced over her shoulder at Isaac. He was still standing in the doorway, watching her leave. “You’re too cute to get into trouble,” he called after her.

  If only that were true.

  Email Inbox

  From: SebastianValenti@waverly.edu

  To: BrettMesserschmidt@waverly.edu

  Date: Saturday, January 8, 8:19 P.M.

  Subject: You

  CALL ME! I’m not explaining this over e-mail.

  23

  A WAVERLY OWL ALWAYS TAKES CREDIT FOR HER OWN IDEAS.

  Tinsley’s legs felt like jelly as she made her way down to Isla and Easy. She’d been too stunned to move at first, and she was pretty sure she was still in shock. She made it halfway down the stairs before she found her legs wouldn’t take her any farther. Holding on to the banister, she watched as the security guards raced into the house, chasing the last of the frantic students as they escaped out the back doors and windows. Isla, Easy Walsh, and Isaac were the only others who remained.