Classic

by Cecily von Ziegesar

  Brett threw open the front doors of Dumbarton and ran inside, only a few steps behind.

  “Wait!” she cried. Jenny obviously heard her. Her shoulders tensed. She didn’t turn around, but she stopped a few feet in front of the common room.

  “I’m so sorry,” Brett began, hurrying to Jenny’s side.

  “How did you know?” Jenny refused to look at Brett. She stared straight ahead as if searching for answers on the common room walls. “Did he tell you?”

  “No.” Brett suddenly felt deeply ashamed of herself. What had she been thinking? She couldn’t even remember how she’d justified looking at Isaac’s texts. She couldn’t justify any of her behavior lately. “I, um, saw a message on his phone.”

  Jenny turned to look at her then, hurt and confusion making her brown eyes seem bigger and brighter than usual. She gave Brett a questioning sort of look.

  “I don’t know….” Brett said. She felt shaky. “I just… I never meant to lie to you, Jenny. I swear. He said that he was going to break it off with her and tell you the truth. He promised!”

  “Yeah, well…” Jenny swallowed, fighting back tears. “It turns out that Isaac is actually a big liar, so…”

  “I never meant for you to find out like this,” Brett swore fervently. “I really thought he would tell you. I mean, he knew I knew. I don’t know what he thought was going to happen. I certainly didn’t think something like this…” Her voice trailed away.

  Jenny let out a sound that was somewhere between a sigh and a sob and walked into the common room. Brett followed. Jenny sat down on one of the cozy navy blue couches and hugged herself.

  “Her name is Molly,” she said. She looked at the thick carpet beneath her feet. Her voice was thick with misery. “She seemed nice. He told her he was sick. She’s really mad at him, too. He lied to her.”

  “Jenny…” Brett wanted to reach over and hug her, but Jenny’s arms were crossed, and Brett wasn’t sure how she would react. Maybe she didn’t consider Brett a friend anymore. The very thought made Brett’s stomach ache. But there was nothing to do but sit there, and wait.

  “I’m not mad at you,” Jenny said after a moment. She sighed. “I mean, not really. This isn’t your fault.” She hugged herself tighter. “I guess I should know by now that if I like someone, that pretty much means I should stay away from him, because he’s destined to just… lie. About everything.” She thought of Julian’s sweet smile. He was a great guy, but he’d lied to her, too, hadn’t he? Just like everyone else.

  “I’m so, so sorry,” Brett whispered. “I know I should have told you. I just…”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Jenny said. “I forgive you.” She rolled her eyes. “I mean, what would I have done if you’d told me? I would have asked him about it and he probably would’ve lied. So maybe this was going to happen no matter what.”

  But Brett knew that it did matter. It was like the hard, tight knot she’d been carrying around inside her had finally come undone, and she could see the truth. And the truth wasn’t very pretty.

  “It’s like I’ve gone completely insane,” she said slowly. “I don’t even know who I am anymore. I’ve turned into this paranoid, jealous, crazy person.” She shook her head, tucking her bob behind her ears. “It’s like all I could think about was Isla Dresden and how she was flirting with Sebastian.”

  “What?” Jenny frowned at her. “Sebastian would never—”

  “I know,” Brett said miserably, “but it’s pretty much beside the point now. I’ve messed everything up with him. I mean, would you want to be with a lunatic?”

  Jenny shrugged her shoulders and smiled at her friend. “I think you’re being kind of hard on yourself,” she said in a soft voice. “Love makes you do crazy things.”

  Brett stared at her for a moment. It was so… obvious. It was one more thing she’d completely failed to notice. One more glaring truth. It seemed to light up the common room, bouncing off the polished wood and elegant couches and collecting in the middle of the Oriental rug in the center, like heat.

  “Jenny,” she said thickly, “thank you. Really. And… I really am sorry about Isaac.”

  “Me too,” Jenny said, making a face. “Jerk.”

  “But…” Brett made a helpless gesture. “I really have to find Sebastian.”

  Jenny should have hated her for that, Brett thought. And maybe she would—

  But instead, her friend just smiled.

  “Go,” she said.

  Brett pounded on the door to his room. Sebastian took a long time to open it, and when he did, he looked cranky. He had changed out of his sleek suit and was in sweats and a beat-up T-shirt. But he was still the best-looking guy Brett had ever laid eyes on.

  “I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” Sebastian said, his voice curt. He stood in the doorway, his dark eyes brooding and challenging when they met hers. Just like they always were. Brett was breathless, her knees weak beneath her. “Seriously. I’m already in a shitty mood and—”

  “I’m sorry,” Brett said simply.

  His dark brows rose. “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah.” She shrugged. “Everything you said is true. I’ve been acting completely insane.”

  “I know,” he said, but his voice was just a little bit softer.

  “But I finally realized why,” she said. This was the scary part. She’d never said this before, and she wasn’t entirely sure she could say it now. Panic skittered along her nerves, but she took a deep breath. “It’s because I… I love you.”

  It felt as if entire years passed while she watched Sebastian’s face. The words were out there now, and she couldn’t take them back. What if he laughed? What if he said something mean? What if he didn’t love her?

  But then, finally, when she thought she might burst into tears, he smiled.

  “Wow,” he said, his dark eyes warm as he gazed at her.

  “Yeah,” she said, her voice shaking.

  “Apology accepted,” Sebastian murmured. He closed the distance between them and pulled Brett into his arms. “I love you, too, idiot.”

  And then he kissed her.

  29

  A WAVERLY OWL KNOWS THE VALUE OF A SECOND

  CHANCE.

  Brandon wasn’t sure why he’d stayed to watch the stupid slideshow. It was the same every year. The same people in the same poses, and, if he were honest about it, he really didn’t need to see a picture of himself with Callie. Not after tonight’s revelations. It was more than past time to go home and lick his wounds.

  Yes, Heath, he thought darkly as he walked past the dance floor and spotted his roommate dancing way too close to Tinsley Carmichael, who should have known better, I’m going to pull the shades and listen to Kelly Clarkson, and you’re just going to have to deal with it.

  “Hey, Brandon.”

  He turned to see Cora standing before him. She looked cute tonight, in a little black dress that showed off her surprisingly long legs, her auburn hair up in a complicated sort of twist. It wasn’t an Isla-worthy transformation or anything, but without her glasses taking over her whole face, his Perfect Match had really pretty eyes. Brown, but shot through with gold.

  “I saw what happened,” she began.

  Of course she had. Everyone had. It would have been humiliating, if Brandon still had it in him to care.

  “Listen,” he said, before she could say anything else, “I know we’re supposed to hang out tonight, but I really just want to get out of here. I’m sorry. It’s, um, been a long night.” Around them, people were dancing in packs and singing along to the music at ear-shattering volume. It was far too much mayhem. Brandon didn’t want to watch Benny Cunningham and Sage Francis dirty dance with Lon Baruzza, he wanted to sit in his dark, quiet room and just think. And, yeah, maybe listen to some angsty pop music.

  “No, of course,” Cora said. “I just… there’s just something I need to tell you.”

  He sighed and attempted to smile.

  “Okay,” he said.
He tried to sound interested. After all, she was a perfectly nice girl. She’d tried to help with Callie, and she hardly even knew him. That had to count for something.

  She wrung her hands together. “So,” she said, sounding anxious, “the thing is, I run the Waverly Computer Society. You probably didn’t know that.”

  “Um, no,” Brandon said. He realized that he hadn’t attempted to find out anything about Cora, despite the fact that they’d been matched. He felt a little bad about that. He’d just been so wrapped up in his Callie drama—which he’d dumped on Cora. “But that’s, uh, really cool.”

  “I’m the one who’s in charge of Perfect Match,” she said. “I kind of inherited it.” Brandon watched, fascinated, as her entire face turned bright red. “And I, um. I’ve had a crush on you since you were a freshman.” She coughed slightly. “Pairing us up was the only way I could think of to talk to you.”

  Brandon felt himself smile. Despite the weirdness of it all, how could anyone not be a little bit flattered by that? Someone had liked him from afar. And had gone completely out of her way just to meet him. Okay, maybe it was a little bit creepy. But in a nice way.

  “Really?” he asked, touched. He considered her for a moment. “Does that happen a lot?”

  “No!” She looked appalled. “I would never tamper with the matches! We actually take that very seriously…” Her voice trailed away and she looked sheepish. “It was just… it was only you. I’m really sorry. I hope you’ll forgive me.”

  “You’re forgiven,” Brandon assured her. Who was he to judge people with hopeless crushes? He kind of liked the idea that there was someone out there pining for him the way he’d pined for Callie all this time.

  “Thank you.” She was still blushing.

  “Wait a minute,” Brandon said as a new thought occurred to him. “So if you, uh, like me, why’d you help me try to get Callie back?”

  Cora turned even redder, which Brandon would have thought was physically impossible. “There’s one other thing,” she said miserably. “When I first ran the matches, you were actually paired up with Callie. How could I not help you? You were supposed to be with her. You are supposed to be with her.”

  Brandon looked at her for a moment, surprised at how empty he felt when he thought about Callie. Suddenly he wished he hadn’t wasted so much time on a girl he didn’t know the way he’d thought he did. A girl who did sneaky things without even blinking. A girl who could hurt him as much and as often as she had. Except—was that even her fault? Brandon had pretty much thrown himself on the ground and begged her to kick him, hadn’t he?

  “I only got Callie because I deliberately answered all the questions the way I thought she would,” he heard himself confessing to Cora. It was funny—this was the second time he’d opened up to her like this, without even really meaning to. It was something about the way she looked at him, maybe. Like she believed in him.

  “I’m pathetic,” he said, almost laughing, because it was almost funny. He felt better the minute it was out there. The minute he admitted it. “That’s painfully obvious.”

  “No,” Cora said, smiling sweetly. “Not pathetic. Dedicated, maybe.”

  “Anyway,” Brandon said, “Callie and I are not supposed to be together.”

  Cora’s bright red embarrassment had faded, and as Brandon spoke, she started to get a hopeful glint in her brown eyes.

  And suddenly Brandon couldn’t think of any reason why he shouldn’t kiss the girl who liked him—rather than chase after the one who didn’t. It was Valentine’s Day. What could be more romantic? He leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers.

  And to his surprise, he really, really liked it.

  30

  A WAVERLY OWL KNOWS THAT SOMETIMES THE

  DESTINATION MATTERS MORE THAN THE JOURNEY.

  Callie sat on her bed in the dark.

  She hadn’t bothered to change her clothes. She hadn’t even cried. It seemed like a luxury she didn’t deserve. She just sat, slumped over on her silk-quilted bedspread, her mind spinning like a top as she tried to figure out how everything could have gone so horribly wrong.

  It was her fault. She knew that. She’d lost both Easy and Brandon tonight, and she wasn’t stupid enough to try to talk herself into believing otherwise. She’d seen the way they’d both looked at her—worse, she’d felt it.

  They hated her. Which they had every right to do.

  So of course it was only now that she’d lost both of them, thanks to her ridiculous stoner plan, that she recognized a truth she should have known all along: she’d wanted Easy to win. She’d wanted him to fight the hardest. Once she’d heard that Easy was collecting hearts for her, she hadn’t even thought about what Brandon was doing.

  Everything seemed so obvious to her now, sitting in the dark. But somehow, she’d gotten it all confused. Being with Brandon had seemed like the better, safer, nobler choice. And yet the truth was that it had always been Easy for her. Always. No matter how she messed it up, or got freaked out, or even what he did to ruin things when it was his turn.

  She heard the clatter of stones against her window, but she didn’t move. He couldn’t really be there. Not after everything that had happened…

  Callie closed her eyes and hoped.

  And when the next pebble hit the window, she jumped to her feet and headed for the door. She took the stairs two at a time, breathing too heavily, desperate to get outside.

  When she pushed through the door, the February night was bitterly cold, but Callie barely noticed. Because Easy stood there, waiting for her.

  They looked at each other for a long moment. Easy’s dark blue eyes seemed to see right through her and made Callie want to cry the tears she’d held back before. Not because she’d lost him, but because she could still love him so much when she thought she’d never have the chance to be with him again.

  He didn’t speak. He shrugged out of his jacket and stepped closer so he could drape it around her shoulders. Callie murmured a thank-you and pulled the jacket closer over her bare arms. It smelled like Easy. Cigarettes and soap and the faint hint of hay.

  “Easy,” she whispered.

  “I know you must have been confused,” he said. He was still standing close, his long, rangy body emanating heat. Callie wanted to bury her head in his chest and feel his arms around her, almost more than she wanted to keep breathing. “I came back so suddenly, and you were with Brandon. I get that you must have freaked out a little bit.”

  “I didn’t know what to do,” she admitted, but then she bit her lip. “But Easy, that’s the thing. I don’t know why I was so confused….”

  “You were trying to move on,” he said quietly. “Kind of like me in the beginning of the year, I guess. I don’t know why we keep doing that.”

  Callie didn’t really want to talk about those confusing weeks right after school started, when Easy had broken up with her to be with Jenny. But maybe Easy was right. Maybe it was the same thing she’d been doing with Brandon. Things with Brandon were always so predictable, so calm. Everything with Easy, on the other hand, was complicated. Everything.

  But that didn’t mean it wasn’t right.

  Easy’s eyes glowed. “I wish you’d talked to me about stuff before you just broke up with me,” he said. “But I’m sorry I messed things up tonight. I really did want to dance with you.”

  “Easy…” She could hear the tears in her voice, taste them in the back of her throat.

  “I guess we’ll never know who found the most hearts on campus,” he said. He reached over and fished around in the pocket of the jacket she was wearing like a cape. He pulled out one lone red heart and held it in his hand. “But I brought you this.”

  Callie felt her tears spill over then, and she didn’t even bother to wipe them away or try to save her mascara. She just let them fall. She reached over and covered his palm—and the heart—with her hand.

  “I only need one,” she told him, losing herself in the way he looked at her, in the
sure knowledge that, this time, Easy was really giving her his heart. And she was giving him hers.

  For good.

  EPILOGUE

  Bright May sunshine poured through the open windows of Dumbarton, lighting up the room and carrying with it the sweet smell of new spring flowers and the briny kick of the Hudson River. Music poured from almost every window and open door in the dorm, as Owls packed up their belongings and got ready for their summer destinations. The long hallways echoed with competing iPods, pounding feet, and the squeals and laughter of the girls as they said their good-byes.

  Jenny sat back on her heels and looked at the stack of boxes in front of her. “I don’t think we have enough packing tape,” she said, not for the first time. Across the room, Callie dumped her last armload of clothes into her final box and scrunched up her face as she peered into it.

  “We’ll be fine,” she said dubiously. She squatted down and started shoving the pile of clothes down, trying to force them all to fit. “When are you leaving for Prague?”

  “The day after tomorrow,” Jenny said. She used the last of the packing tape and stood up. “I haven’t seen my mom in a while, so it should be cool.”

  “Plus it’s Prague,” Callie said with a smile. “Which is much more exciting than Georgia.” She finished jamming her clothes into the box and started wrestling with the cardboard flaps, pushing one beneath the next to make them hold without tape. “I’m already bored out of my mind just thinking about it. Summer in Buckhead is like living in someone’s sweaty armpit, I’m not even kidding.”

  “That sounds great,” Jenny said sarcastically. She wrinkled her nose. “But the last time I checked, Georgia was pretty close to Kentucky….”

  “Yes,” Callie said with a giggle. “There is that.” She climbed to her feet and smiled at Jenny. “Easy and I will definitely be seeing a lot of each other this summer. His dad already loves me, and my mother likes it when I have things to do that don’t end up in the papers, so I’m thinking it might just be an okay summer after all.”