“Angelo,” Tinsley said, handing the pale pink polish over. “Yes.” The other girls stared at her, wondering how she knew his name. “I asked,” she said simply. “Thought it might come in handy.”
“Sounds like we’re going to have a pizza party, then,” Brett said, not wanting to sound like she was too immature for this sort of thing, though she was having doubts. How weird was it to hook up with someone you hardly even knew? She watched as Callie expertly reapplied the polish to the bitten-down nails on her left hand.
“Guess we’d better decide who we’d like to invite into Café Society since it shouldn’t just be us,” Tinsley observed.
“Jenny, of course,” Brett replied, taking the polish from Callie when it was time to do her right-hand fingers. Since they’d skipped practice and then dinner, Brett hadn’t seen Jenny since that morning, and she suddenly felt guilty for leaving her new friend out. Especially since she’d been the one to basically tell Jenny to avoid Callie and the room for a little while. Brett wondered if she was okay.
Tinsley rolled her eyes toward Callie and wrinkled her perfect nose. “But she’s a sophomore.”
“Yeah, but she’s cool,” Brett argued defensively. There was just something about Jenny—this sort of
warmth
—that made Brett miss her when she wasn’t around.
“Is she?” Tinsley pretended to examine the white tips of her French-manicured fingernails. “I mean, I haven’t really talked to her. What do you think, Cal?”
“Do you think there’s something going on between her and Easy?” Callie asked hesitantly.
“We’d know about it, wouldn’t we?” Brett responded logically, though she didn’t really sound convinced. “I mean, she lives with us. Anyway, it would be cruel to leave her out of Café Society.”
Callie shrugged. It was hard to know if Jenny was a serious threat. “What about Benny? She needs to be in on this too.”
“And Celine, and Alison. And Emily?” Brett said.
“Ugh. Emily is so milquetoast. Let’s leave her out.” Tinsley made a face. “We should probably let Sage Francis in, even though she can be a bitch. She’s kind of fun.”
“What about Verena Arneval?” asked Callie. Verena was a senior from Buenos Aires whose mother was the producer of a beloved Argentine soap opera. She had a sexy accent and a super-short pixie haircut and always wore dresses and heels, like an old-fashioned film star. “She’s cool,” said Callie.
The three of them looked up at the sound of voices in the hallway. “See you in class,” Jenny called as she opened the door to Dumbarton 303. She almost jumped when she saw her three roommates staring at her.
“Oh! Hey, guys …” Jenny glanced at Brett. “What’s going on?” She stood in the doorway for a moment, worried she’d walked in on something private. She stuck her hands into the pockets of her Citizens of Humanity wool cardigan. “Am I interrupting something? ’Cause I can go brush my teeth or …”
“No, come on in,” Brett said, patting the bed next to her. “You’re definitely included in this.” Brett shot a glance at Tinsley, and the two of them held each other’s gaze for a long, awkward moment. Jenny pretended not to notice and sank down on Brett’s bed.
“Yes,” Tinsley began after a long pause. “We’re starting up our own secret society. And we wanted to extend the invitation to you.” She flashed Jenny a generous smile, and Jenny’s heart thumped. Tinsley wanted to include her? Jenny had to suppress an urge to jump up and hug everyone in the room—she was
in
! Of course, she knew that wouldn’t be the coolest thing to do, so she managed to restrain herself, though she couldn’t resist rubbing her hands together in excitement.
“A secret society?” she asked giddily. “That sounds like so much fun.”
“That’s the idea.” Tinsley tossed her long, dark hair over her shoulders and leaned back against the pillows on her bed.
Like Cleopatra
, Jenny thought. “But we did want to talk about something with you first.”
Jenny’s stomach dropped. Of course it couldn’t be that easy. She should have known there would be a hitch, like Tinsley wanted her to be the society’s
janitor
or something.
Callie hopped up abruptly and headed to her dresser. She picked up her boar bristle brush and started to brush her hair, but Jenny could tell she was watching her in the mirror.
“We all know how dangerous rumors can be,” Tinsley continued. “How they can end up hurting everyone involved. And I just feel—and I’m sure you agree—that we should probably clear the air about one rumor in particular.” Tinsley paused for dramatic effect and smiled at Brett and Jenny. “Jenny, I know that Callie asked you to flirt with Easy so that she wouldn’t get busted for having him in this room. And it was very nice of you to oblige and help keep Callie out of trouble.” Tinsley glanced at Callie. “But the thing is, it’s all over now—no one got in trouble. Yet I’m still sort of hearing things about you and Easy.” Tinsley pursed her lips and stared directly at Jenny. “Is there anything we should know?”
Jenny’s jaw almost dropped. Anything they should know? Like, how badly Jenny wanted to kiss Easy? To run her hands through his hair? That she was—
eek!
—going to go riding with him on Sunday? “Uh, no … I mean, Easy’s cool. I like him.” And before she could stop herself, the words kept tumbling out of her mouth. “I mean, as a friend. You know, we’re in art class together. But that’s it.”
Tinsley nodded but didn’t say anything. Callie continued to brush her hair and watch Jenny in the mirror. Jenny couldn’t bear to look at Brett, who knew about her crush on Easy but wasn’t saying anything.
Jenny felt herself start to panic, and she wasn’t exactly thinking straight. This moment, with the four of them hanging out in their dorm room, getting ready for bed, was the sort of scenario she had dreamed about—she
had
to be in their secret society. This was her chance to be one of them. How could she let it slip through her fingers?
“Come on,” Jenny said reasonably. “Easy could never be interested in me like that, anyway. Not after
you
, Callie.” Jenny almost choked on the words, they were so hard to say. But she wasn’t making it up—she sort of believed it as she was saying it. “You’re like a movie star. I’m just … me.”
Callie’s nose twitched as she looked at her own reflection. Jenny could picture her thinking it over, maybe even imagining how silly Easy would look with
her
, short-little-I’m-just-me Jenny Humphrey. Jenny bit her lip.
Callie spun around abruptly and gave Tinsley a sly grin. “She’s right. Easy is a little tall for her.” The two of them shared the same satisfied look on their faces, and Jenny suddenly felt a hundred times worse than she had before she’d opened her big fat mouth.
“Good.” Tinsley clapped. “That’s settled, then. Welcome to Café Society, Jenny. I know we’re going to end up great friends.”
Jenny bit her lip even harder. Somehow she wasn’t so sure.
Instant Message Inbox
From:
[email protected]
Date:
Friday, September 13, 10:05 a.m.
Subject:
Café Society
My dearest, loveliest, ever-sumptuous friends,
You are all officially invited on a new adventure called Café Society, a secret dub for only the most interesting and charming Waverly Owls. We are young and sexy creatures. Our society mantra is: Dress it. Act it. Be it. Flaunt it.
First unofficial meeting takes place tomorrow. 7 p.m. sharp. Ritoli’s.
Please note: Proper attire required. Boyfriends are grounds for immediate expulsion. Bring your favorite libations (incognito) and your sense of mischief.
Yours in love and misbehavior,
T
Instant Message Inbox
From:
[email protected]
Date:
Friday, September 13, 5:55 p.m.
Subject:
THANK
YOU!
Dear Dad,
I am running to dinner right now, but get this: I’m emailing you FROM MY NEW PHONE. How awesome is that??? Thank you sooooo much. I promise to write more over the weekend.
Love you,
Jenny
P.S. Tell Vanessa I say thank you too!
P.P.S. I always liked those rainbow suspenders. No, seriously!
Instant Message Inbox
Eric Dalton:
Got your email. Interesting field trip idea.
TinsleyCarmichael:
I thought you might be into it.
14Eric Dalton:
Yes, very …
Tinsley stepped into the Waverly dining hall ten minutes before the Friday night dinner hour officially ended, fully aware that people had been waiting for her to appear. The dining hall was an exquisite building with cavernous cathedral ceilings and brightly colored stained glass windows, enormous oak tables, and heavy padded oak chairs that many of the smaller, waiflike girls had difficulty pulling out. The entrance was at the exact opposite side of the hall as the food service area, so once you entered, you still had to cross the room in front of hundreds of watching eyes to pick up your tray and start piling on chicken cordon bleu or whatever dreck was being served that evening. Tinsley didn’t give it a second thought, whereas most people who walked into the dining hall alone were acutely aware of the long, tortuous journey they had to make before they could hide themselves behind the enormous plastic cereal containers.
She took in the scene, her eyes scanning the tables expertly for the faces of her friends. She spotted Benny and Brett and the boys at one of their usual long tables near the fireplace. She gave them a nod, being careful not to look at Brett, and continued toward the food line.
She picked up one of the beige plastic trays and noticed Heath Ferro waiting to be dished a plate of steaming eggplant parmesan. The sight of his tight butt in his brown Lacoste vintage track pants with the gold stripes down the side made Tinsley smile. She stepped up close behind him and said in a throaty voice, directly into his ear, before he could turn around, “Guess who—otherwise you get a shortie.”
Heath chuckled as he reached for the plate from the dining hall worker and set it down on his tray. “You’re not going to fool me with that voice, Tinsley. I hear it in my dreams. If you want to pull down my pants, you just have to ask.”
Tinsley groaned, and Heath turned around, his gold-flecked green eyes blinking lazily as he focused on her apple-red lips. Tinsley bumped her hip against his, then slid her tray down the metal rails toward the green beans.
Lon Baruzza stood behind the glass counter in front of the giant tub of beans, holding an enormous spoon and wearing a white apron and a Notre Dame cap. He was a scholarship kid from Chicago, and Tinsley was always pleased to see him, even if the poor guy had to schlep beans onto plates for spoiled-rotten rich kids—he was much cuter than any of the other dining hall workers.
“I see you’re in charge of the beans today,” Tinsley said. “Is that a promotion from yesterday’s creamed corn?”
“Nah,” said Lon, who, even though he was dating Tricia Rieken, clearly liked handing a plate of food to Tinsley. “It’s actually a demotion—they caught me smoking on my break yesterday. So only green vegetables for me from now on.”
“That’s good,” said Tinsley. “I only took the corn yesterday because I wanted to say hi. I prefer beans.” As he handed her a plate over the counter, she flashed him her ultra-flirtatious smile and glanced around for Heath, who had moved on to the hamburger station, obviously sulking that she was talking to Lon. She smiled to herself. One of her great pleasures in life was flirting with boys in front of other boys. It made them realize they had no claims on her.
She slid her tray next to Heath’s as he struggled with an unwieldy pair of tongs to try and pick up a sesame bun and pretended not to notice her approach. Eventually he gave up and grabbed it with his hand.
“Gross,” said Tinsley. “Those are there for a reason, so guys like you don’t get their grubby paws all over other people’s food.” She expertly maneuvered the tongs and dropped a bun on her plate.
“Oh, didn’t notice you were there. Thought you were still flirting with Baruzza,” Heath said in mock surprise. She could tell he wasn’t really bothered by it—Heath was her male counterpart, always knowing when to flash his devastating grin and when to give a playful wink. If anyone understood the thrill behind harmless flirtations, he did.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’ll never talk to another boy again. Happy?” Tinsley stabbed an overcooked garden burger with the extra-long fork and let it drop onto her plate. Ever since her father had produced a documentary about slaughterhouses when she was eight, Tinsley couldn’t eat any sort of red meat. It gave her the creeps. Unfortunately, the decision not to buy leather didn’t come so easily.
“You’re just pissed at me because we won’t let you join our secret society.” Heath winked at her over his shoulder as he headed to the fountain soda machine, plucked a glass from the towering stack, and filled it halfway with Pepsi, then filled it the rest of the way with Dr Pepper. Tinsley followed him and filled her glass with Diet Pepsi.
“Not exactly. I just went ahead and started my own. Girls only.”
“What are you going to do—have tickle fests? In your underwear?” Heath licked his lips at the thought.