Classic (2 page)

She turned from the window in a kind of daze, her thoughts and emotions too much of a jumble to make any kind of sense. She
pulled on the nearest pair of shoes she could find, an ancient pair of Uggs, and threw a fleece the color of daffodils on
over her sweater. It might even have been Jenny’s fleece, but for once Callie didn’t care what she looked like. She didn’t
even glance in the mirror. She just zipped the fleece up as she left the room and hurtled down the steps toward the outside
door.

She skidded around the side of the building and saw the dark figure, waiting.

He coughed. He was really there. She wasn’t dreaming.

Callie made herself breathe and moved toward him.

“Hey,” he said when she was close. Callie tried to search his face for a clue to what he was feeling, because with Easy she
could never be sure. But it was too dark.

“Hey,” she whispered. Her throat felt dry, and she realized that she was nervous. She didn’t know why he’d come to find her
tonight—or how long he was staying. She rocked on her heels and shoved her hands in the pockets of the fleece. “You’re back.”

“I’m back.”

Did he still dream about her? Was he mad at her? The last time they’d seen each other had been so fast and crazy, but the
time before
that
was the awful night Callie had broken up with
him. She could still remember the crushed look in his blue eyes. She shivered.

“I kind of thought I made up that whole night,” Callie said softly. “Kissing you in the stables.”

The corners of Easy’s mouth turned up, and, at once, Callie’s heart felt a teensy bit lighter. It wasn’t quite a smile, but
he reached down and tucked a stray strand of her strawberry blond hair behind her ear, his fingers brushing her cheek in that
old familiar way.

“You still with Brandon?” Easy asked quietly, still holding on to that one lock of her hair like it was the only thing anchoring
them together, and he was afraid to let go.

Callie bit her lip slightly. She liked Brandon. She cared about him. But she’d never stood in the frigid cold of a winter’s
night looking at Brandon, thinking she might die if she didn’t touch him soon. And she didn’t think she ever would.

“I guess,” she said. Easy’s face hardened, and she hurried on. “I mean, sort of. It doesn’t really mean anything. We’ve barely
been let out of our rooms since the dean busted up that party, anyway.”

“Callie.” Easy’s voice, and his soft sigh, sent a delicious shiver through her, and Callie didn’t wait for any more clues.
She reached over and slid her hands against his chest.

She couldn’t tell who moved then, but she was finally in his arms, and his mouth covered hers. Callie wrapped her arms around
his neck and tried to get even closer to him, kissing him again and again, until the whole world disappeared.

“I missed you,” Easy murmured shyly, pulling back to look down at her, his dark blue eyes warm.

“I missed you, too,” she said, happier than she ever remembered being before. It was like her whole life had been in black-and-white,
and now Easy had brought in the color. Not to mention HD with surround sound. She looked up at him and smiled, reaching over
to hold his cold face between her hands. “I’ll make sure things are over with Brandon,” she said. “I promise.”

“Good.” Easy nodded. And then he smiled, finally—his full, real, crooked smile, the one that showed her he was the same Easy
Walsh she had been in love with forever.

“A
ll right, everyone, it’s almost curfew! This is your last chance to hand in your projects!” Mrs. Silver cried from the front
of the art studio, clapping her hands together, her gray hair and apple-red Mrs. Claus cheeks looking less jolly than usual.
She’d been trying to shoo the Jan Plan stragglers, who were working up to the last minute on their projects due today, out
of the studio for the past half hour.

Jenny Humphrey packed her pencils and charcoals into her black canvas messenger bag and smiled at the boy who’d made her smile
a lot recently: Isaac Dresden. He leaned against the desk, his green eyes focused on the drawings that Jenny had piled up
in front of her. His short black curls stood up from his head in sharp contrast to the white gleam of his smile.

“I think that’s it,” Jenny said, straightening her pile of drawings. For her Jan Plan project, she’d decided to do an art
project resembling stop-motion photography, where one object remains still while the camera captures movement all around
it. Except Jenny had achieved the effect by hand, instead of with a camera. She was determined to do a good job and impress
the dean with her project. Not just because she was dating his son—she bit back a giddy little sigh that always threatened
to overtake her at the thought of Isaac—but because she was only a sophomore and had had to convince the dean to let her work
alone in the first place. Sophomores were supposed to do group Jan Plan projects. Solo projects like the one Jenny had just
completed were usually reserved for more mature and academically adventurous upperclassmen.

“Are you sure these are the ones you want?” Isaac asked. He’d helped her pick out the best drawings, and he knew how anxious
she’d been about choosing the right ones. “It’s a big decision. Once you turn the drawings in, there’s no going back,” he
teased, his green eyes lighting up along with his smile. He lounged back against the desk, and her breath caught. Isaac was
so incredibly cute, wearing an untucked green checked button-down shirt under a blue sweater with more than one hole thrown
over battered old Abercrombie khakis. He looked like the perfect prep-school boy that he was. She was glad she’d worn her
fitted emerald green J. Crew sweater, knowing it minimized her too-big chest. And the color was great against her long brown
curls.

“There’s nothing more I can do,” Jenny said philosophically, yanking her attention away from Isaac’s tempting good looks and
back to her project. She ran a hand over the cover of
her portfolio and tried not to second-guess the final selection of drawings that she and Isaac had just spent hours agonizing
over. She squared her shoulders. “I guess Mrs. Silver and your dad will have to decide if I proved that sophomores should
be allowed to do solo projects.” She wrinkled her nose. “Or not.”

Isaac’s grin deepened. “I don’t think you have to worry. It’s one small step for you, but a giant leap for all Waverly sophomores.
They’ll love you for it.”

Except when they hated her guts, which they seemed to do at the slightest provocation. Jenny walked her portfolio over to
Mrs. Silver’s desk and placed it carefully in the growing pile of down-to-the-wire submissions. It was hard to believe that
she’d experienced so much at Waverly and still hadn’t made it through an entire school year. Sometimes she almost forgot that
she’d had an entirely different life in New York City at her old school, Constance Billard. A school without boys and with
required uniforms! The two experiences were as different as night and day, but if Jenny had to compare them, not having to
face those two factors alone tipped the scales in favor of Waverly. She fought a smile as she thought about how far she’d
come. A year ago, could she ever have predicted she’d be handing in a special project and dating the dean’s son?

She shrugged on her quilted orange Guess jacket and zipped it up to her chin. Isaac wrapped a gray cashmere scarf around his
neck and then walked her toward the door. She couldn’t help but throw a forlorn look over her shoulder toward Mrs. Silver’s
desk, where her project sat with all the others. She bit her lip, then forced herself to let it go. In her opinion, she’d
done some of her best drawings ever, and she had to be okay with that. Her father, Rufus, always told her that no one could
expect anything more than her best, and as long as she gave her best, she couldn’t fail. She hoped that wasn’t just his Berkeley-hippie-turned-Upper-West-Side-liberal
love-in side talking.

Besides, there were more important things to consider, now that it was February. Namely, Valentine’s Day.

Together, Jenny and Isaac headed out of the art building and into the cold Waverly night. His arm just grazed her shoulder
as they pushed through the doors, and the sensation resonated through her body in pleasant waves.

Now that Jan Plan was over, probation was lifted, and her project was handed in, Jenny could give her relationship with Isaac
her full attention. Valentine’s Day was just a week away! Her head swam with visions of Isaac dancing with her at the big
Valentine’s Day Ball, kissing her tenderly in a sea of red and pink hearts. She and Isaac had only kissed once, just as she
was about to run out the door of his father’s house the night of the infamous party. It was a quick, fleeting kiss, on the
back doorstep of his house. Not bad, but not exactly the most romantic moment in the world, either. Surely V-Day was an excellent
time to change all that.

“Not sure I’m too psyched about classes starting tomorrow,” Isaac said as they headed down the dark path that led toward the
dorms. Though Isaac lived in the dean’s house with his parents, he always insisted on walking Jenny to the front steps of
Dumbarton.

“I’m happy probation is ending.” Jenny reached into her pockets and pulled out the bright red wool gloves her mother
had sent her for Christmas from Prague and worked her fingers into them.

“Sure, but I kind of liked having only one thing to concentrate on,” Isaac replied. He looked at her meaningfully, and Jenny
blushed. How did she get so lucky?

“Fortunately, we have something to look forward to,” Jenny said, still picturing her romantic evening with Isaac. At the ball,
she would wear a dress to put Cinderella to shame. She could feel the huge skirts swishing all around her as she moved, could
see her curls dancing around her face, maybe even a tiara glinting atop her head. Isaac would be dressed in a tuxedo, his
green eyes intent on hers. His soft lips—

“Homework?” Isaac asked dryly.

“No, silly,” Jenny said, laughing. “Valentine’s Day. Is it lame that I’m really excited for the ball?”

Isaac didn’t say anything. Suddenly a gust of cold wind wormed its way down Jenny’s back, making her shiver.

“Not that I’m into overdosing on candy or construction-paper hearts or anything,” Jenny continued, a sudden attack of nerves
making her talk without thinking. Had she missed something? She and Isaac had been together for more than a month now. Was
she not supposed to talk about things like dances or major holidays?

“I… didn’t realize it was so soon,” Isaac said, but he sounded like he was talking to himself.

“Well, it’s the sixth of February right now,” Jenny pointed out. “And Valentine’s Day is pretty much always on the fourteenth.”

Isaac frowned. He stepped farther away from her, leaving space for another person to walk between them on the path.

“But it’s okay,” Jenny continued, “because there’s only one thing I want for Valentine’s Day. I’ll give you a hint. You don’t
even have to spring for those chalky little ‘be mine’ heart candies.”

They’d walked to the edge of the quad then, and Jenny was surprised when Isaac stopped. She stopped walking, too, and looked
at him, confused.

“Uh, sorry,” he said, clearing his throat. “I didn’t realize it was so late.” But he didn’t quite meet her eyes. “I promised
my dad we could have some family time before the term starts. I can’t believe I forgot.”

Jenny couldn’t believe it, either—especially since they’d all been on probation for the whole month, and Isaac had just been
complaining the other day that he’d had way more Dresden family time than anyone should be forced to endure.

“Okay,” she said. She moved closer to him and put her hands on his hips, tilting her head back to look up at him. Isaac was
much taller than her five feet nothing, which made her feel deliciously small. She smiled. “But first let me tell you what
I want more than anything for Valentine’s Day.”

Isaac swallowed, and then he stepped back.

“I’m sorry,” he said after a moment. “But, um, you know how my dad gets.” He looked at Jenny and then at his feet.

“Isaac?” All of Jenny’s confusion came out in her voice. Had she been too… forward or something? She’d never been self-conscious
around Isaac. That was good, wasn’t it? She’d thought so… until now.

“I’ll, uh, see you tomorrow,” Isaac said, and then he turned and took off, leaving her standing alone and completely bewildered
in the dark of the empty quad.

“I just want a Valentine’s Day kiss,” Jenny murmured, but the cold winter wind swept her words away, and there was no one
to hear.

T
insley Carmichael strode into the Waverly Academy dining hall at 8
A.M.
Monday morning, more than ready for the unaccountably lame and depressing Jan Plan to be over and the new term to begin.
She didn’t even mind that her new Advanced Italian class met at ten in the morning on Mondays instead of the far more reasonable
Tuesday afternoons of fall term. She was more than ready to embrace the new—in whatever form that might take.

She, for one, had had a shitty month.

Tinsley eyed the coffee machine and rocked back and forth in her café au lait–colored suede over-the-knee Chloé boots as she
allowed a pack of awed sophomore boys to ogle her in her blue formfitting, long-sleeved Kristensen du Nord T-shirt and
sleek black leggings. She smiled to herself and swept her long, almost black hair over one shoulder as she plucked an apple
from the fruit display. She fixed herself a cup of mediocre but necessary coffee and wandered into the dining area.

The huge stained-glass windows stretched from floor to sky-high ceiling, giving what was actually just a cafeteria the look
of a medieval cathedral. Owls were spread out at the long oak tables in their usual groups: seniors Celine Colista and Rifat
Jones were huddled over their phones, as if expecting some life-altering message to appear at any moment. The repulsive scammer
Drew Gately and his senior buddies were harassing Benny Cunningham and Sage Francis, two juniors Tinsley was quite certain
would have nothing to do with them, upon pain of death. But then it hit her: it was Valentine’s Day in less than a week, and
that, historically, could mean only one thing at Waverly Academy—Perfect Match, where all the usual dating rules no longer
applied.