Classic (19 page)

There was what looked like a surveillance shot of Kara Whalen lying on her bed, reading a book, with Brett sitting on the
floor next to her, frowning at her MacBook. Another one of Callie and Easy standing close together in a hallway, oblivious
to the world around them. Two freshmen girls, elbows linked, smiling secretively. A big group shot of the Women of Waverly—plus
Heath—all piled on the red couches in the atrium, cheering at the camera. Owls stretched out on blankets and sitting on bales
of hay at the Cinephiles screening in front of the Miller Barn—while it was still standing, obviously taken before the barn
burned down that same evening. A couple kissing on the steps outside the biology building. A self-portrait of Kara, Heath,
and Brett, their faces all smushed together. Brandon, senior Brian Atherton, and Julian all sweaty and brandishing squash
rackets on one of the squash courts.

There was a shot of Brandon and Callie sitting next to each other at a table in Maxwell, laughing like best friends. A flock
of underclass girls wearing tank tops, sprawled out on a maroon Waverly blanket on the lawn in front of one of the dorms,
trying to soak up some late autumn sun before the upstate New York winter hit. A blurry photo of unidentifiable Owls wearing
red, orange, and yellow hanging out at the Crater, a bonfire in front of them and Heath Ferro’s heated tents behind them at
the Goodbye Us party in the fall. People cheered when that one went up—thankful that no one could
get in trouble so far after the fact, because the shot was way too out of focus.

There was an action shot of Celine Colista, Emmy Rosenblum, Verena Arvenal, and Rifat Jones out jogging in the rain, wearing
matching maroon Waverly windbreakers over tiny nylon shorts. Heath and Kara on top of the old Waverly Observatory, their legs
dangling off the edge of the tower. Jenny dressed in her Halloween contest-winning Cleopatra outfit, next to a grinning Brett
dressed as Daphne from
Scooby-Doo!
Heath, Ryan Reynolds, Lon Baruzza, Erik Olssen, Lance Van Brachel, and Alan St. Girard playing basketball in the Field House.
The short-lived Men of Waverly club posing together in the Field House—complete with the usually nonathletic Easy and the
old dean, Dean Marymount, who was resoundingly booed. And one of Tinsley, Brett, Callie, and Jenny, dancing in their fancy
dresses on a table in Cambridge House, looking like they were in love with one another and the whole wide world.

Tinsley remembered how good that dance had felt, but she was on pins and needles tonight. How many schmaltzy pictures was
she going to have to look at before they got to the good stuff?

“Maybe they didn’t include the photos we sent,” Brett whispered nervously from beside her.

They had both ditched their dates once the lights went down, determined to get into the best possible position for Isla’s
long overdue unmasking. Brett’s bright red hair shone in the darkness, and her porcelain skin looked luminous in an ice blue
one-shoulder David Meister dress that swept from one
jeweled shoulder to just above her knees. She stood out amid all the pinks and reds. Tinsley had opted for maximum attention-getting
herself, in a silk Nicole Miller multicolored floor-length dress that tucked in beneath her chest and then floated around
her long legs. She’d piled her hair on the top of her head and had worn minimal makeup and accessories, knowing that she looked
effortlessly cool and elegant—a startling contrast, she anticipated, to Isla’s true, dorked-out face. She could hardly wait
for the inevitable comparisons to begin.

“Trust me,” she assured Brett. “The pictures are in. The so-called slideshow committee is two sophomore girls who practically
peed themselves when I walked into their room. They would have jumped out their window if I’d wanted them to.”

“Fear is good,” Brett said with a happy sigh.

And then it started. The first shot was one of Tinsley’s personal favorites: It featured Isla with her masses of hair clearly
untouched by any hint of product and frizzed out around her like a halo, glasses perched on her nose, her face scrunched up
as she stared down at a chemistry textbook. The next was Isla in dorky pigtails and a Jonas Brothers concert T-shirt, clearly
performing some kind of spastic dance, complete with a hairbrush clutched in her hand as a microphone. There was one of Isla
and Xander, cuddled up on the couch with junk food littered all around them, ferociously concentrating on the video games
they were playing. Another one of the happy couple featured Xander in some kind of Harry Potter rip-off wizard costume, with
Isla sporting fairy wings and a tutu. Then came the food series: Isla chewing something with her mouth wide
open, Isla with a straw up her nose, Isla cramming brownies into her face.

God, it was so beautiful. As victory surged through her, Tinsley couldn’t help but laugh. She’d seen Isla earlier, looking
sleek and mysterious as ever, gliding around the party in a short, black Narciso Rodriguez dress.
Not so pretty now, are you, sweetie?

Next to Tinsley, Brett waited for triumph to wash over her, but instead, with every shot of Isla in her geekitude, she felt
something heavy and cold grow in her stomach. She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth and then sneaked a look over to
where Sebastian was leaning against one of the couches to watch the show. She could see the frown on his face and the way
his mouth pulled down in the corners. And suddenly she knew what the heaviness inside her was: guilt.

“I have to go,” she whispered, but Tinsley didn’t hear her—she was too busy cackling with glee as the unflattering pictures
of Isla kept rolling. Brett headed for Sebastian and didn’t look back.

The lights finally rose as the credits began to play—like anyone cared who the slideshow committee was—and Tinsley was still
snickering. It took a few moments of blinking in the pink lights to realize that she was the only one laughing. All around
her, people were murmuring to one another and turning to
glare
at Tinsley once they realized she was the one laughing—and therefore, obviously, the one behind the Isla retrospective.

“Geeks rule!” someone shouted. Someone else picked up the cheer.

They have
got
to be kidding,
Tinsley thought in disbelief. She turned her head to check out Heath’s reaction, but he was already moving toward Isla.

“You still have that fairy costume?” he asked in his usual lascivious way, which could be heard in every corner of the atrium.
“What about that tutu?”

Tinsley didn’t understand the hot jealousy that jolted through her as Heath’s golden brown head tilted close to Isla’s dark
curls. She wanted to scream something that would force him to turn around, to
see
her. She couldn’t believe how much she wanted him to be paying attention to her instead of Isla. But the cold reality sunk
in around her, utterly and completely undeniable.

She’d lost.

Again.

Brett followed Sebastian as he walked away from the ball and deeper into ficus and fern territory. When he finally stopped
walking—
stomping
, really—Brett felt like they were standing in a jungle. She glanced over her shoulder toward the lights and the crowd, wondering
if anyone could see them hidden in this corner.

But then Sebastian turned to look at her, his dark eyes so cold, and she forgot all about the greenery and the party.

“I know you did that,” he said, his voice hard. He looked so handsome in his sleek, dark suit that all Brett wanted to do
was go back in time, cancel the slideshow, and spend the night dancing with him. “What did you do? Stalk the poor girl? What
did she ever do to you?”

“Lucky Isla,” Brett threw at him, jealousy clawing at her once again, “that you’re so quick to jump to her defense no matter
what she does!”

Sebastian looked at her for an uncomfortably long moment, his expression remote. Tired. Suddenly the jealousy that had burned
so intensely inside her seemed to sputter out. It was replaced by something new—something worse. Fear.

“I can’t believe this,” he said, raking his fingers through his thick, dark hair. He hadn’t put any gel in it—Brett was always
begging him to go product-free—and this was the first time all night she’d noticed. “This is more of your jealous bullshit,
isn’t it?”

“She hangs all over you!” Brett protested, but her voice sounded weak even to her own ears.

“For the record,” Sebastian snapped, “I didn’t wake up one day and think it would be cool to hang out with the girl. It was
a Perfect Match thing. Aren’t you matched up with her brother? Do you see me freaking out? Even though, let’s face it, you
have been acting shifty and weird lately.”

Brett had to look away from him then, because she didn’t know what to say and she was afraid she might burst into tears.

“But it doesn’t matter, does it?” Sebastian’s voice was bitter. “You’re so fucking insecure that you plotted to embarrass
her, just because I was
nice
to her.”

“No…” Brett protested, but there was no force behind the word. She felt almost frozen. She couldn’t seem to do anything but
look at Sebastian’s disappointed face while he stared down at her.

“I can’t keep doing this,” he said, the ring of finality in his voice. Brett’s heart kicked in her chest, and her stomach
dropped to her knees, but she still couldn’t seem to speak. “I can’t be with you if you’re going to act like this all the
time. What’s next? Are you going to go after my lab partner because we share the same table? I just… I can’t take it anymore.”

He didn’t give Brett a chance to defend herself or to explain. He just brushed past her and walked away.

J
enny sat with Isaac on one of the red couches that had been pushed back from the main crowd in the atrium. The slideshow had
left a bad taste in Isaac’s mouth, he’d said, and he’d drawn Jenny away with him. She was happy to go. The whole Isla montage
was weird and regrettable, but it hadn’t made a dent in Jenny’s good mood. Isaac had been so sweet and romantic all night.
Everyone had gone to the ball with their Perfect Matches, but even though he was technically Brett’s date, he’d made it clear
he was with Jenny from the moment they got to the ball, handing her one red rose. Julian had taken one look at the two of
them, given Isaac that boy-head nod of acknowledgment, and left to go hang out with his buddies. Now Jenny was twirling the
rose between her fingers, waiting for the one thing she’d wanted all along: a Valentine’s Day kiss.

“Poor Isla,” Isaac said, shaking his head. Jenny reached over and put her hand on his, and he smiled at her, warming her up
from the inside out until she was sure she must have matched the pink blush of the Marc Jacobs dress she’d borrowed from Callie’s
closet.

“She’s changed so much,” Jenny ventured to say. She knew what it felt like to be on the receiving end of Tinsley’s hatred,
so she couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for Isla. Then again, Isla wasn’t exactly angelic. She’d lied to get Tinsley
in trouble.

But this was Isla’s brother, after all. Hardly an impartial observer.

“She was obsessed with it,” Isaac said, leaning back against the red couch. “The minute Dad got the new job, she decided that
she was going to completely reinvent herself. She was, like, on a mission.”

Jenny felt a reluctant stirring inside, knowing that she, of all people, could relate to that idea. But then a memory tickled
at her, and she frowned. “Wait,” she said. “I thought you told me that you had to leave your old school because Isla did something
bad…?”

Isaac sighed. “If you mean she maxed out a credit card buying ridiculous clothes in New York City.” He shrugged. “When we
first got here, she kind of wanted to let people think that she was trouble, you know? So… I sort of helped. In reality, she’s
a good girl. We really just moved here for my dad’s career.”

“I guess it’s nice that you helped her out,” Jenny said. She smiled at him. “But I’m glad you’re telling me the truth now.”

She felt as if a little glow surrounded them. They really were a real couple, because he was telling her the truth about things.
Jenny decided she was proud of them both.

“I’m sorry I lied about it,” he said. He turned slightly so he was facing her, his green eyes serious and his mouth curved
into an adorable smile. His dark jacket hung open over his crisp white shirt. “It just… it was so important to her.”

Jenny’s heart melted. Isaac was such a good guy. He took care of his sister. He’d looked worried sick during the slideshow.

“I understand,” she said. “Family has to come first.” She thought of her brother, Dan, and how worried he got about her sometimes.
He would have freaked out if someone had put on a slideshow just to humiliate her. And it wouldn’t have been hard to do, given
how much trouble she’d gotten herself into back at Constance Billard and even here at Waverly.

“My older brother is totally overprotective,” she said, taking Isaac’s hand between hers. She shrugged, smiling. “That’s his
job.”

Isaac’s lips moved into a grin and his hand tightened on hers. “I guess I just think I should have taken better care of her.”

“I’m sure she knows that,” Jenny assured him. “Little sisters always know that their brothers are looking out for them.”

Isaac’s smile deepened. Jenny felt the rose between her fingertips, happy that there were no secrets between them now. She
leaned closer into him. A remote couch in a semi-dark corner wasn’t just a great place for sharing secrets—it would also
be a great place for a kiss. She hadn’t been able to get their last kiss, in the English building the other day, out of her
head. She swayed closer. Isaac’s mouth curved, and he leaned toward her.

“Isaac?”

Jenny blinked and turned toward the voice. A girl stood a few feet away from the couch, frowning ferociously. Talk about throwing
cold water on a moment. Jenny wondered what the unfamiliar girl wanted and pasted a polite smile on her face. But next to
her, Isaac went rigid, threw Jenny’s hand off his, and jumped to his feet.