Unforgettable (18 page)

And she kept smiling to herself thinking about how just last night, she and Julian had been alone in here, flirting and laughing. It gave the whole art building a kind of charge, like she knew something about it that no one else knew. Just thinking about Julian made Jenny feel better about everything. She wondered what this past week would have felt like if she hadn’t had him as a distraction. He’d definitely managed to help take her mind off Easy, off Callie, off everything except how nice it was to be at Waverly and to be an artist and to be alive.

“Wow,” Alison said under her breath. “Look at this.” Jenny didn’t have to glance at the sloppy signature in the corner to tell that the next painting, propped up on an easel, the oil paint still slick and glistening, belonged to Easy. It was hard to say what it was, exactly. It was abstract, and certainly not like any of the other paintings or drawings in the room. Jenny felt a little stab of pride for him—Easy was
such
a good artist. The painting was a hard-to-define system of swirls and thick brushstrokes, of pinks and peaches and pale green highlights, but somehow it pulled together to actually kind of feel like a portrait, of someone or something.

“He’s crazy talented,” Jenny agreed. Just then, a familiar looking-shape off to the right side of the painting caught her eye, and, like one of the museum ladies, she squinted her eyes and stepped closer. It was a strawberry-shaped mark and it made Jenny think of something, but the more she concentrated, the more that something slipped away from her. She tried to shake her head clear of the thought. Maybe it just reminded her of a strawberry.

“Jenny? Come over here a second, please” She turned at the sound of Mrs. Silver’s voice and saw that she was standing in front of her drawings of Julian. She hurried over, and Mrs. Silver placed a doughy hand on her shoulder. “I’d just like to congratulate you, darling. The way you’ve posed your model emphasizes his extreme height, and the way you’ve chosen this sort of moment to represent—something as ephemeral and difficult to capture as laughter—well, you do it quite extraordinarily.” “Really?” Jenny’s cheeks flushed pink with pride, thrilled to have her work complimented by Mrs. Silver, who, although always encouraging, was never insincere with her praise. She only said things she really meant.

“Oh, yes, dear.” Mrs. Silver squeezed her shoulder gently. “And this drawing truly captures the rapport you have with your subject.” She patted her frazzled gray hair absent mindedly, reaching for a pencil behind her ear that wasn’t there. She focused her gray-blue eyes on Jenny. “It also reveals that you’re very fond of him. It’s absolutely wonderful that you can translate that emotion into art.” Mrs. Silver talked to her a few minutes longer, giving her a formal critique of her lines and contrasts and perspectives. Jenny jotted notes down in her sketch pad but her brain was still fuzzy.

Her portrait of Julian revealed how fond she was of him? Really? Well, wasn’t
that
interesting. She had always thought art was the window to her soul. Maybe it was… .

Email Inbox

To:
Undisclosed recipients

From:
[email protected]

Date:
Friday, October 11, 1:45 P.M.

Subject:
Pimpin’ your rides

Fellow partyphiles,

I’ve taken the liberty of organizing a shuttle service from the front gate to the Miller farm on behalf of our gracious hostess, the ever-charming and sexilicious Tinsley, who so kindly put together this event. Complimentary beverages included.

Cars are as follows:

Mine—Kara/Brett/me

Next—Callie/Benny/Jenny/Sage

Next—Easy/Alan/Allison/Brandon

All other unlucky fuckers are on your own. Hey, Tinsley, who do you want in your car? I got an extra-special pimpmobile for you and your intimates as thanks for getting the party started.

YEE-freakin’-
HAW
,

H.F.

Instant Message Inbox

TinsleyCarmichael:
Guess who’s the lucky boy who gets to ride with me in the waterbed pimpmobile Heath hooked up?

JulianMcCafferty:
They have cars with waterbeds in them?

TinsleyCarmichael:
Hello? Aren’t you psyched? Every boy at Waverly is going to be drooling over how insanely lucky you are to be going with me. Be prepared to sign autographs!

JulianMcCafferty:
Can’t wait to see the movie.

TinsleyCarmichael:
Sweetheart, I guarantee you will not be watching the movie. You’ll be living one! Meet me downstairs in an hour.

JulianMcCafferty:
Okay.

“Whoa!” Jenny squealed as the car turned a corner and Callie slid down the leather seat, careening into her. Callie put her palms up in an effort to stop herself but ended up inadvertently groping Jenny’s chest and making her drop her vodka-filled shot glass. Jenny’s face flushed—she was glad she and Callie were getting closer, but, um, that was a little much.

“Sorry, Jenny.” Callie scrambled off her, tugging her plaid wool Nanette Lepore miniskirt back into place. She huddled her black-nylon-clad knees together—she’d insisted on wearing a skirt even though Jenny had pointed out that she’d be cold, and, even in the warm backseat of the limo, Jenny saw she was shivering. “Didn’t mean to feel you up.” “That’s okay.” Jenny dabbed at the vodka that had spilled on her dark-wash Paige jeans. She was actually kind of glad she wouldn’t have to do another shot—it would have been the third round since they left Waverly. “They’re kind of hard to avoid.” She glanced down at her boobs, which actually looked pretty inoffensive under the kelly green cable-knit cashmere-blend hoodie that had unexpectedly arrived in the mail today from her father, with a note telling her to enjoy those changing autumn leaves.

“Pass the bottle, sweet cheeks!” Benny Cunningham tapped the toe of one of her gold Sigerson Morrison ankle boots against Callie’s calf. Callie quickly poured the vodka into her shot glass, sloshing some down the side, before passing the bottle to Benny. Jenny glanced down at those gold boots, thinking they must have cost more than her entire outfit. She briefly wondered if they really were made of gold.

Doing shots on the limo ride from the front gate to the Miller farm had been Callie’s idea. “It’s a short ride—we need to maximize!” she had cried. Her full bottle of Ketel One only had a few fingers left in the bottom, and the three of them and Sage Francis were already feeling the effects.

“Chicas, I think we’re here!” Sage trilled, downing the last of the clear liquor in the bottle. Her corn-silk blond hair was pulled back into a sleek ponytail that bobbed as she pushed open the door to the limo and the four girls tumbled out onto the packed-dirt driveway. Jenny stretched her limbs—the limos were definitely luxurious, but kind of small.

She inhaled a deep breath of fresh air, which smelled like burning leaves and pumpkin pie. The sun had just set, and clusters of kids in thick sweaters were gathered around what had to be the kegs or spreading plaid blankets out on the stiff, yellowing grass. Jenny patted her hair—she’d woven a few loose braids into her long curls.

She stepped away from the car cautiously, trying to judge how drunk she was from the way her boots responded to the ground beneath them. The boots had come with the sweater and were a gift from Vanessa, her brother’s girlfriend who was now living in Jenny’s old room while she went to
NYU
. The note said they came from the army-navy surplus store in Dumbo and they looked it—they were deep olive leather lace-ups, plastered with various military-looking badges. Totally funky and unique, exactly the kind of thing Vanessa would think Jenny needed at boarding school to “keep her from getting too J.Crew’d.” The best things about them had to be the sturdy, four-inch platform bottoms. Wearing them, Jenny felt almost tall. Or at least not so shrimpy.

Benny poked her in the back. “The beer has to be over there.” She pointed toward the crowd gathered off to the side of the picturesque red barn. But Jenny had decided that she was a wee bit tipsy, and so she trailed a little behind the other girls, taking in the scene. The barn stood in front of a large clearing, and the black-and-white film was already flickering across its weathered wall. It was a pretty cool effect—Jenny had never been to a drive-in before, but she imagined this was even better. She spotted Alan St. Girard and Alison lounging on one of the dozen bales of hay that were scattered around on the grass. Alison had her legs stretched across his lap, and he was sticking a piece of hay behind her ear. Unexpectedly, Jenny felt a pang of envy—
she
wanted to have someone looking at her like that and tickling her with hay.

Her eyes scanned all the tall figures in the crowd, surprising herself that she wasn’t looking for Easy, but Julian.

“Say something for the camera, ladies!” Ryan Reynolds popped up out of nowhere, a sleek silver digital camcorder the size of a wallet glued to his face.

Sage pursed her highly glossed lips and struck a pose for the video camera. “Priorities, dummy.” Benny grabbed Sage by the wrist and tugged her toward the barn, where the keg crowd was growing larger. “Beer first, flirting later.” Ryan disappeared into the crowd, disappointed. Jenny lagged behind the others, feeling uncomfortable. It was nice that Benny and Sage and Callie included her in their little group, and she had been able to feel everyone sort of watching them the moment they got out of the car, like they were something special. Like she was something special. And that was kind of nice—but at the same time, where was Brett? She needed someone real to talk to.

Another sleek black car pulled up the dirt driveway, sending up giant clouds of dust. Jenny watched with relief as Kara and Brett and Heath piled out, giggling like schoolgirls. Heath had on the blond wig from the other night, and he threw his arms around both girls’ shoulders and whispered something in Brett’s ear that made her toss back her red hair and shriek with laughter.

“All right, who else thinks it’s totally bizarre that Heath and Brett are hooking up?” Benny demanded, unbuttoning her black velvet riding blazer. “I thought she
loathed
him.” Jenny saw Callie roll her eyes and stumble slightly on the uneven ground before quickly righting herself and acting like nothing had happened. “Um … I don’t think it’s
Heath
she’s hooking up with, if you know what I mean.” Benny and Sage exchanged glances, but Jenny had to quickly turn away. Wait a second. Did Callie really know about Brett and Kara, too?
How?
And why was she babbling to Benny and Sage about it? Well, maybe they hadn’t understood her. Or maybe they’d chalk it up to the ramblings of a drunk girl.

But from the look on Benny’s face, she
definitely
knew what Callie meant.

Email Inbox

To:
[email protected]

From:
[email protected]

Date:
Friday, October 11, 7:09 P.M.

Subject:
Late

B,

Running late and still have to jump in the shower. (Get that smile off your face… .) I’ll meet you at the farm, okay?

Luv,

El

Instant Message Inbox

EasyWalsh:
R U here yet?

CallieVernon:
Yup. Just pulled up with the girls. Movie’s on, where R U?

EasyWalsh:
Inside the barn, waiting for you to sneak away.

CallieVernon:
Oh, yeah? Well, as soon as I get a chance.

EasyWalsh:
Hurry, darlin’... .

Callie started to stand in line with Benny and Sage for beer, but she kept getting jostled, and everyone seemed to be stepping on her toes (which were already uncomfortable, crammed into her half-size-too-small patent leather Taryn Rose wedges). And after the text from Easy, her mind was elsewhere—she knew she probably shouldn’t be alone with him after she’d been drinking, but the truth was,
whenever
she was with him, she had to fight the urge to throw herself at him. It was like there was something inside her that responded to his frequency or something.

Still, she wasn’t ready to come running the second he called. He could certainly wait for her. She had to enjoy the party for a while, didn’t she? Callie rubbed her hands up and down her arms, trying to warm herself up. She looked up at the gorgeous, navy blue night sky. The few stars that were starting to peek out looked like ice chips. She patted the tiny bulge in the hip pocket of her miniskirt. Before leaving her dorm room, she’d pulled open the drawer of her nightstand in search of a hair clip, and had been confronted by the giant box of condoms that had been sitting there since the start of school. She’d bought it out of wishful thinking, hoping that sex would save her and Easy’s relationship. But it hadn’t worked out that way—it was only by breaking up that they’d been able to save it. Tonight, though, she had put one in her pocket. Better safe than sorry.