Classic (13 page)

J
enny decided on a bright red bowl of tomato soup with a side of roasted red pepper bruschetta for dinner on Thursday evening,
after eyeing something that claimed to be red beans and rice but looked a whole lot more like reddish brown oatmeal. She took
a small helping of the beet salad, just to add some vegetables to her existence, but shuddered at the salmon mousse on rye
toast. She shoved her tray along the track, biting her lip as she tried to choose between red velvet cupcakes and strawberry
ice cream sundaes with raspberry sauce—neither of which she
wanted
necessarily. But this was her first Valentine’s Day at Waverly, and she thought she should get into the mood. Red velvet
cupcakes it was.

The dining hall certainly had. There were red streamers hanging from the walls and shiny red hearts on every plastic tray.
Red Kool-Aid sat in large pitchers near the drinks machine,
and pink-tinted Rice Krispies Treats were stacked on platters near the rest of the desserts. Red Jell-O sat in a large glass
bowl, wobbling slightly, next to separate bowls of cherries and strawberries. It was red, red, red, as far as the eye could
see.

Including Brett’s signature fire-engine red bob, which Jenny spotted the moment she walked into the dining hall. Jenny had
told herself over and over that it didn’t matter what Brett had said on Tuesday at the Three-Legged Race. Isaac had been back
to his normal self since then—and Jenny was almost entirely convinced that the weirdness she’d sensed between them was just
a little blip. She wouldn’t have given it another thought if she didn’t still have the echo of Brett’s words sneaking around
in her head, whispering
I just don’t think you should get ahead of yourself
when Jenny least expected it.

Jenny had come up with a hundred explanations. Like, maybe Brett was just concerned that she was falling too hard for someone
she didn’t know very well. After all, she could admit, with a flush of embarrassment, she
was
sort of known for taking things too seriously, too fast. She didn’t even want to think about how many times she’d been in
love since the start of the school year. But still…

“Hey,” she said in a determinedly cheerful voice when she made her way to Brett’s side. Brett was still scowling at the variety
of red foods, looking personally affronted by the spread.

“What’s up with all the forced Valentine’s Day cheer?” she asked crankily. She wore a charcoal gray wool Nanette Lepore sweater
dress over opaque tights and knee-high black Elie
Tahari boots. She looked sleek and serious, and not at all interested in Red Hots or lacey doilies.

“I guess it’s just something else to celebrate,” Jenny murmured. Brett seemed as tense as she had in the Field House the other
night, and Jenny wondered if she might just be wound up about her own problems.

“Hooray,” Brett said under her breath. She bypassed the entrées altogether and picked up a dish of the wobbly red Jell-O.

“So…” Jenny kept pace with Brett as she moved through the serving area. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.” Brett slid her a look and smiled. “You just did.”

Jenny grinned, but she wasn’t going to be put off that easily. She had to know. “What did you mean,” she began, annoyed that
her voice was climbing up a couple of octaves. She coughed slightly to cover it. “You know, in the Field House? When you said…
what you said about Isaac and me?”

Brett stared down at her bowl of Jell-O, wishing that she could disappear through the tile floor beneath her feet. Anything
to avoid Jenny’s wide, worried, doelike brown eyes.

Why had she said anything in the first place? She felt her temper kick into gear and wished Isaac were nearby to take the
brunt of it—because he clearly hadn’t told Jenny yet, the way he’d kind of promised he would. So now he was
that much more
of a liar. It was his fault she even had to have this conversation.

She didn’t want Jenny to hate
her
, after all.

“What are you talking about?” she asked, looking away
from Jenny. She hated having to lie—but how could she tell the truth? It would only make things worse. Isaac could do his
own dirty work, thank you very much. Besides, it was entirely possible that Isaac had already broken up with his girlfriend
at his other school, in order to be with Jenny. And if that was the case, Brett didn’t want to stir up drama where there wasn’t
any. “What did I say?”

“You know.” Jenny’s cheeks reddened. “That stuff about, um, getting ahead of myself?”

“I don’t even remember saying that,” Brett lied, and forced a laugh. It sounded as brittle as she felt. “I must have had too
much of Heath’s iced tea.”

Jenny’s big brown eyes seemed to get even wider, if that were possible, and her shoulders sagged. Brett felt like she’d drop-kicked
Bambi.

“I have to go talk to Tinsley,” Brett said breezily. She smiled apologetically and then quickly walked away, trying not to
look like she was hurrying. She felt horrible. Jenny was her friend. But she didn’t know what else to do. She wished she’d
never looked at Isaac’s phone in the first place.

Jenny watched Brett practically sprint away from her, weaving in and out of the red tableclothed tables. What was going on?

“What’s wrong?” a familiar voice asked. Jenny turned to look up at Julian, who was wearing a friendly smile and a long-sleeved
black thermal shirt that clung to his lean chest.

“Why do you think something’s wrong?” she asked, deflecting the question. She forced a small smile. “Maybe I’m just contemplating
the
redness
of everything.” She waved a hand at
the dining-hall selections that she no longer had an appetite for.

“Nope,” Julian said, tucking his hands in the pockets of his cargo pants and rocking back on his heels. His gaze was warm
and knowing. “I know that worried look you make.”

Jenny shook her head, her brown curls bouncing up and down around her. “What worried look?”

Julian ducked his head and wrinkled up his forehead, in an imitation of her. Jenny didn’t think she’d ever made that particular
face, but Julian looked awfully cute making it. She couldn’t help but laugh.

“So?” he asked. He took Jenny’s tray from her hands and walked over to an empty nearby table. Once they were seated, he turned
to give Jenny his full attention. He waited, patiently, for her to go on.

Suddenly Jenny couldn’t think of a single reason
not
to tell Julian the whole story. So she did. She told him how Isaac had been acting strange before the Three-Legged Race,
but now he seemed normal. And she told him what Brett had said—and how she couldn’t seem to let it go.

“I don’t know,” she said, blowing out a breath. “I just can’t help thinking that she might know something that I don’t. I
can’t stop wondering about it.”

Julian nodded, his brows drawn together in thought. He reached over, snagged a red velvet cupcake from Jenny’s tray, and peeled
the paper cover off its base.

“What did Isaac say?” he asked after discarding the paper. He popped the entire cupcake in his mouth, somehow still
looking cute as he chewed then swallowed it. Jenny was sure she would look like a pig if she shoved a whole cupcake into
her face. Maybe she’d look like one of those mini-pigs they were breeding in England.

“I didn’t ask him about it,” she admitted.

Julian shrugged. “If you’re worried about something, you should talk to him,” he said, his tone gentle but sure. “Because
if it’s a good relationship, you should be able to talk about anything, right? Isn’t that the point?”

Jenny smiled as Julian’s words moved through her like sunshine, making everything feel better and warmer as they went.

Julian was right, of course. She
should
be able to talk to Isaac about it.

Why hadn’t she thought of that?

T
insley tossed her coat into the empty space next to Heath at a long table full of boys and sank down into the chair next to
him. After his pathetic performance in the Three-Legged Race the previous night—a performance for which he was, quite literally,
falling-down drunk—she felt that on some level he owed her. She also felt compelled to mark her territory in front of as many
Owls as possible. Heath might be kind of a slut, but he was
her
slut. Or at least, he was her Perfect Match.

“What’s up?” Heath said, eyeing Tinsley over the collar of his blue Hugo Boss button-down. He’d shoved the sleeves up over
his elbows, the better to lounge back with his dirty blond hair a mess and that ever-present smirk on his chiseled face. “I’m
surprised you didn’t just fall down on me again, like last night.”

“
I
was not the drunken idiot who could barely walk, Heath,” Tinsley drawled, sweeping her hair off her shoulder. She made sure
every male eye at the table was focused on her—all eyes were, of course, except for Sebastian’s, which Tinsley grudgingly
allowed out of loyalty to Brett—before letting the silky strands fall out of her hand one by one, sliding and slithering over
her bare shoulder. Lon Baruzza and Ryan Reynolds practically drooled into their sodas. She crossed her long legs, encased
in skintight Fendi leather leggings, and let one black Prada buckled stiletto pump dangle from her foot. “That would be you.”

“Please,” Heath said with a laugh. “I
make
the drinks. I don’t do headers on the AstroTurf.”

“And yet there you were,” Tinsley retorted with a mischievous grin. “Facedown on the racecourse—repeatedly—and nearly disqualified
for failing to tie a knot correctly.”

“I thought you were the one who sailed halfway around the world with the America’s Cup when you were, like, eight years old,”
Heath tossed back. Tinsley smiled, satisfied that he still remembered random facts about her life. “Why was I the one tying
the knots when you’re supposed to be the expert?”

“Aw, Heathie, do you need help with your knots?” Tinsley practically purred. “Didn’t you learn that in kindergarten like everyone
else? Or should we get you some Velcro sneakers?”

Heath’s grin widened as laughter swelled around the table. His green eyes met Tinsley’s, amused, and he shrugged as if to
say
you got me
.

Tinsley reached over and picked up one of the strawberries
she’d piled onto her plate, feeling oddly pleased with herself. Was she really having a good time with Heath Ferro? Weren’t
there warnings about him all over the girls’ bathroom stalls on the Waverly campus? Maybe across all of New York State?

“Why don’t you teach me everything you know about tying knots?” Heath suggested when the jeering had calmed down. He smiled
at Tinsley suggestively. “Since bondage is apparently your thing. Feel free to demonstrate.”

Tinsley opened her mouth to deliver a stinging putdown, but before she could get a word out, Heath had turned away.

Isla was sitting down on his other side, letting her tray clatter against the table and slithering into her seat with a writhing
motion that had all the boys gaping. Tinsley fought back the urge to glare at the table at large. Had they all missed the
lesson about eating with their mouths closed?

“Hey, Match,” Sebastian drawled, smiling at Isla. Tinsley glared at him on Brett’s behalf, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“How did you like the Three-Legged Race?” Heath asked eagerly, like his own personal happiness hinged on Isla’s answer.