It Girl | Chapter 33 of 52

Author: Cecily von Ziegesar | Submitted by: Maria Garcia | 12957 Views | Add a Review

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Friday afternoon, Brett sat in the locker room before the first day of field hockey practice tugging at the silver Tiffany étoile ring Jeremiah had given her over the summer. The thing was stuck on her finger, but she wanted it off. As soon as she’d sunk into the plush black leather seats of Eric’s family limousine—he’d had a car take her back to Waverly since he was sailing back in his boat—she’d been in Eric withdrawal. They hadn’t even kissed, but she felt like she could still smell him on her. That delicious Acqua di Parma. And this morning’s café au lait had tasted like L’Evangile Bordeaux.

“Hey,” a voice beckoned shyly.

Brett turned to see Jenny sitting next to her on the long, forest-green bench, pulling socks over her shin guards. Her wild brown hair was pulled back off her face in a high ponytail, and she wore gray Champion sweat shorts and a cutoff lavender-colored T-shirt with an orange Les Best logo, which was an edgy, preppy-girl-goes-crazy label based in Manhattan’s Meatpacking District. Brett had felt bad for Jenny when she received Eric’s e-mail, but that was what you got for getting in bed with Callie . . . and Easy. “Hey,” Brett said back.

Jenny squirmed, pretzeling her legs, as if she had to pee. “So, I think there’s something you should know.”

Brett stared at Jenny. Was she going to fess up about what had happened that night with Easy? Or maybe Callie had confessed something about Tinsley’s expulsion? Whatever it was, Brett definitely wanted to hear it. “What?”

“I . . . I saw you get in. In the middle of the night. And I know where you were.”

Brett stared at her, feeling her lips curl up the way they did when she got scared. “What?” Her voice was barely audible.

“It’s okay,” Jenny said quickly. Brett’s face grew paler and paler, making her eyes look huge and dark. Jenny had contemplated whether or not it made sense to say anything to Brett. The thing was, Jenny wasn’t so great at keeping secrets. She wasn’t someone who would tell the whole world, but she always had to tell at least one other person. It made carrying the secret’s burden a little easier. So why not tell Brett’s secret back to Brett?

“You don’t know anything,” Brett muttered, turning away to look at the freshly raked playing field.

“Look, please, please don’t worry,” Jenny pleaded, her voice growing squeaky. “Your secret is safe with me. Honestly. Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything.”

From the middle of the field, Coach Smail blew the whistle. “Girls! Gather around!”

Brett stared at Jenny. Was she serious, or was this some sort of ploy? Could Jenny be trusted? Last year Brett and Callie and Tinsley used to sit around in their room at night and talk about every detail of their days, no matter how mundane or spectacular. They’d been the kind of best friends who are almost like sisters, because they loved one another so much that even when they pissed each other off, they knew they were still going to be each other’s bridesmaids someday. But the Tinsley/E fiasco had made Brett a lot more suspicious. If Callie could betray Tinsley like that—not that Brett knew exactly what had gone down, but still—who knew what she would do to Brett?

“You better not tell anybody,” Brett warned, ignoring Jenny’s annoyingly innocent expression. She couldn’t possibly be that innocent, especially if she was from the city.

“Look, as far as I’m concerned, we never had this conversation,” Jenny insisted loyally. “But . . . I just want to make sure. . . . Are you okay? ’Cause you seem, like, a little distracted.”

Brett gripped her hockey stick and stood up. No one ever asked her if she was okay, not even her parents, and she wasn’t sure how to answer. “Um, I don’t know. Can I get back to you on that?”

Jenny smiled eagerly. “Sure. See ya!” She picked up her stick and jogged toward the middle of the field, where the team was waiting.

“Hey!” Brett called. Jenny turned, and Brett noticed that weird, familiar glimmer about Jenny again—like she was channeling Tinsley, like they had the same special something seeping out of their tiny pores.

Jenny turned to find Brett jogging toward her. “Look, whatever happened with you and, um, Easy?” Brett said quietly. “Well, I shouldn’t tell you this, but Marymount wants to make an example of you, to, like, set a precedent for the year. So . . . I’ll try my hardest to keep you from getting expelled, but, well, I don’t know what’s going to happen.”

“Oh.” Jenny’s shoulders slumped. Expelled? “Um, thanks.”

Celine Colista, who had olive skin, straight black hair, and full lips coated with MAC Rabid lipstick, ran up to them, kicking up grass behind her with her cleats. “Jenny, did Callie give you the cheer yet?”

Jenny shook her head.

“Cheer?” Brett asked.

“Yeah. Jenny is going to be part of our cheer,” Celine explained very slowly.

Brett nodded uneasily. Then Celine turned back to Jenny. “C’mon. Let’s go talk to Callie.”

Callie was sitting on the long metal bench alongside the field, rewrapping her field hockey stick with tape. She looked up just in time to see Celine and Jenny running over. Shit. Benny and Celine just weren’t going to let this cheer thing die.

“Callie,” Celine cooed. “Did you write the words yet?”

“I’m working on it.”

“Well, you have to hurry!” Celine whined. “Okay, fine, we can finish them at the party tonight.” Celine winked at Callie and then trotted to center field.

Jenny turned to Callie. “Party?”

“Yeah,” Callie replied, looking down at her field hockey stick. “It’s a pre–Black Saturday thing. Girls only. You have to come. We all dress up!”

“As what?”

“Well, it’s a secret until the last minute. But it’s tonight, probably in Dumbarton’s upstairs common room.”

“Tonight?” Jenny looked crestfallen. “I have to go to a new students’ ice cream social thing tonight.”

“Whatever. You can get out of that.”

“No, the e-mail said it was mandatory.” Jenny shrugged. “I should probably go. But I’m really excited about Black Saturday. There’s a secret party then too, right? And this cheer sounds cool.”

“Well, the cheer’s so not a big deal. You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to.”

“No, I do!” Jenny couldn’t keep the shakiness out of her voice. The girls were all talking to her, and she felt more included than she ever had before, but she was also about to be expelled.

Callie was tempted to confess that the cheer was a not-veryfunny joke, but a few years ago, when Tasha Templeton, then the captain of the team, had told the new girl, Kelly Bryers, she was about to be punk’d, the whole team had unleashed on her. They’d cut holes in her bras, right where the nipples were. And no one had spoken to her for months. Her boyfriend had broken up with her, and she’d lost all her power. Callie didn’t dare.

Suddenly, Callie looked down at Jenny’s skinny arms and noticed the letters peeking out from underneath her right sleeve. It looked like Jenny had scrubbed at her arm for a while to get the marker off, but Callie could still make out the familiar boyish, messy script, and that stupid spiky-toothed face that Easy always drew. Immediately, a knot formed in her stomach, and she felt the hair on the back of her neck rise. What was Easy doing writing on this bitch’s arm? But then she stopped herself. Chill. You asked him to do this.

“So how’s Easy?” she inquired instead, swallowing her worry.

“Oh,” Jenny squeaked.

“You getting along all right?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Good.” With any luck, the teachers would think so too. But why was Easy writing stuff on Jenny’s arm? That wasn’t really necessary. Especially that snaggletoothed character of his. That was her character: they’d made it up that time they snuck down to Brooklyn and spent the whole day in Williamsburg, shopping for vintage clothes and avant-garde art. They’d gone to Schiller’s Liquor Bar on the Lower East Side after that, and he’d drawn the silly face right onto the back of the menu. Then they’d snuck into the tiny bathroom and kissed, annoying all the impatient French tourists.

All Callie had wanted was a little flirting, and, as usual, Easy had gone overboard. But whatever. If it meant Jenny would take the fall for her at DC, then Jenny could have the snaggletoothed dude.

“Come on.” She squeezed Jenny’s arm, trying her hardest not to appear jealous. “Smail’s giving us the evil eye.”


To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Date: Friday, September 6, 4:15 P.M.

Subject: Miss you!

Hi Sweetheart,

I miss you! Please meet me at the library steps at 5 P.M. today. Sharp!


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Great book, nicely written and thank you BooksVooks for uploading

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