Classic (18 page)

She couldn’t wait. Adrenaline and excitement coursed through her, leaving her breathless. If she closed her eyes, she could
see the whole night spin out perfectly in her mind. Easy
would arrive, wearing an impeccably tailored suit despite the fact he detested dressing up. He’d be looking so good, she’d
feel fluttery. He would stride across the floor—or maybe gallop across it, astride Credo like some white knight—and present
a huge box of hearts to Mrs. Pritchard, who would then present him with the Sweet Heart. Easy would then declare to the entire
school that he was in love with Callie and would sweep her into his arms for a romantic dance in the center of the atrium,
wedding-style, while everyone cheered and wept. It would all end, of course, in a happily-ever-after kiss. Her heart skipped
a few beats as she pictured it.

Mrs. Pritchard appeared then, climbing up onto the little mini-stage they’d constructed beneath the huge, blank white wall
where they would be playing the “Love at Waverly” slideshow later. It occurred to Callie that she hadn’t bothered to send
in any pictures this year, but she forgot it almost immediately as Mrs. Pritchard began talking.

“Your attention please, Owls!” she called into the microphone over the excited buzz of Waverly students decked out in their
Valentine’s Day Ball best.

In front of Callie, Benny Cunningham took a big swig from Lon Baruzza’s flask and then giggled while Lon secured it on the
inside of his sleek dark suit jacket. Benny’s long brown hair looked pink from the Valentine’s Day lighting scheme. Sage Francis
stood on Benny’s other side, her back stiff and her attention riveted on the stage—presumably so that she wouldn’t have to
pay any attention to her date, good-looking but incredibly jerky Drew Gately. He was standing so close, Callie had a feeling
he was trying to make a move.

“Tonight we celebrate love,” Mrs. Pritchard said, and the students immediately groaned and applauded in equal measure. Sage
and Benny rolled their eyes at each other. Ryan Reynolds whispered something to Kara that made her smack him on his arm. Hard.

“Come on…” Callie muttered under her breath. She shook her head when Alan offered her a drink from the Nalgene bottle he held
in his hand. She had to stay focused. This was the moment she’d been waiting for.

“Let’s start with our scavenger hunt,” Mrs. Pritchard said.

“Boring!” a group of senior boys shouted in unison. Other kids laughed appreciatively.

“Why don’t our contenders bring up their hearts, and we’ll start counting them, with or without the unnecessary commentary
from the peanut gallery?” Mrs. Pritchard continued brightly, smiling out at the crowd. “Who will be the Waverly Sweet Heart
winner this year? Can you stand the suspense?”

For a moment, no one moved, though everyone started talking.

“Is there anything lamer?” Sage asked with a sniff that made her almost white-blond hair bounce. In front of her, Emily Jenkins
turned around, shaking her head in agreement.

“Who would want to make such a big spectacle of themselves in front of the whole school?” she asked. “Can you imagine?”

Callie could imagine. She was about to scream in anticipation when there was a ripple in the crowd. Easy was making his way
toward the stage, holding his shoebox of hearts. His lean, muscled form was stunningly packaged in the Armani suit of her
dreams—something that would have looked laughably out
of place on the old, pre-military school Easy. It fit
this
version of Easy Walsh like a glove. Callie felt her heart swell. She could almost feel his kiss on her lips… and she closed
her eyes for a moment as she imagined it.

But when she opened them, she saw another figure moving toward the stage from the other side of the atrium.
Brandon
. Also in a sleek suit, and also holding a box.

As both guys reached the stage, they looked at each other for a moment. No one else came forward with any hearts. No one else
moved. Then, as if on cue, Easy and Brandon turned to find Callie in the crowd. There was a rustling sound, as everyone turned,
too. A slight murmur ran through the throng. It was like she was suddenly thrust into a spotlight. Callie summoned up a weak
smile.

“Of course,” Benny said, loud enough so Callie could hear, her voice dripping with annoyance. “Once a love triangle, always
a love triangle. God, it’s so fucking boring.”

Suddenly Callie had no interest in the hearts or the Sweet Heart dance. She just wanted it to be over. She didn’t want to
have to choose between the two of them again. She didn’t even want them to fight each other. Maybe she’d been right to break
it off with both of them—to stop the madness. All of a sudden, more than anything, she just wanted peace.

But instead, they were counting hearts.

Brandon gripped his box between his hands and tried not to look at the very similar box Easy was holding three feet away from
him on Mrs. Pritchard’s other side. He couldn’t believe it. Once again, Easy Fucking Walsh appeared out of nowhere and
ruined everything. Like it was his mission on this earth to ruin Brandon’s life.

Music blared from the speakers, and the assembled Owls went back to talking and giggling among themselves. Mrs. Pritchard
ushered the two of them to the side of the stage, where they had to hand their boxes over to gratingly perky underclassmen
seated at a makeshift table… and then stand there, waiting. Brandon and Easy. Alone. While the rest of the school watched
and waited, too.

They stared at each other. Easy had cleaned up for the event. He’d actually, finally made an effort. Brandon couldn’t find
a single splatter of paint on his Armani, and with his hair so short and neat, Easy looked like much less of a degenerate
than usual.

Great,
Brandon thought.

They stood stiffly next to each other while the two freshman volunteers sat at the little table and counted out their collection
of hearts. One by one. And with far too much sighing about
how romantic
the whole thing was.

“So much for my great idea,” Brandon said. He couldn’t help himself at this point, after spending days combing through the
most absurd places on campus, thinking he was making this huge, romantic gesture for Callie that no one else—especially not
Easy—would ever think to make. Seriously, who even did the scavenger hunt? In the history of Waverly? “Was there, like, an
e-mail?
Collect hearts for Callie?
”

Easy eyed him. Buchanan looked miserable, and Easy knew it was his fault. Just like he had many times before, Easy felt
guilty. It wasn’t Brandon’s fault that he was in love with Callie. Of all the people in the world, Easy should probably be
the most sympathetic to that particular problem.

“I saw you,” he said, admitting it, because it felt like the right thing to do. He owed it to the guy to at least be honest
about it. “Out by the stables. And I don’t know, I had to do it, too.”

Brandon ran his tongue over his teeth. Of course. Of course Easy had copied him. It didn’t even bother him, necessarily. It
was just more of the same. “So you were competing with me, but you didn’t bother to tell me that or anything,” he said, frowning.
“Nice. I wonder why this feels kind of familiar?”

Easy shrugged uncomfortably. “I know,” he said. “I should have told you.” Maybe it was because he’d seen Brandon’s pile of
hearts, and he was pretty sure his was bigger. Maybe that was why he was feeling like he and Brandon should be better friends—or
something. Like history shouldn’t matter so much. But maybe that was easier when you were the person who usually won.

“Well, why start now?” Brandon said, but his voice was more wry than bitter, and he actually smiled slightly. It was like
the absurdity of the whole thing hit them both at the same time.

“Did you go on any of the roofs?” Easy asked with a sideways look. “I saw a couple of hearts out on top of Richards, but no
way was I going out there and getting harpooned by an icicle.”

“Yeah, no way,” Brandon agreed. “It was cold enough on solid ground.” He shook his head. He didn’t know why he was suddenly
so comfortable talking to his nemesis, without even the usual urge to punch the guy in the face. “I guess after being dumped
in a three-line e-mail, I’m not really accountable for my actions.”

There was a small, charged silence.

“Callie dumped you in an e-mail?” Easy asked, his expression suddenly intense.

Brandon fervently wished he hadn’t said anything. “Um, yeah,” he said. He could feel his ears heat up. Why had he brought
that up, of all things? To Easy, of all people?

“That’s funny,” Easy said. He turned so he was looking straight at Brandon, his blue eyes suddenly serious. “Me too.”

Brandon felt his mouth fall open.

“And the even funnier part?” Easy’s head tilted slightly, like he was considering how not funny the whole thing actually was.
“My e-mail was three lines long, too, now that I think about it.”

“Huh,” Brandon said, his mind racing. So if Callie had called things off with Easy, did that mean they
had
been seeing each other behind his back? He knew he should be pissed, and try to find out exactly what Easy meant, but he
sort of felt like it didn’t even really matter anymore.

“When did you get yours?” Easy asked.

“Wednesday morning,” Brandon said. Easy gave a quick, curt nod. Brandon laughed in disbelief. “No fucking way.”

“I’m really sorry to do this over e-mail,”
Easy quoted, his gaze challenging.

Brandon’s head was spinning, but he knew that goddamned e-mail by heart.
“I just don’t think it’s going to work,”
he replied,
his stomach tensing. How could she have done something like this?

“I’m sorry,”
they chorused, staring at each other in disbelief.

“So…” Brandon shook his head. Even for Callie, who could take being callous to practically an Olympic level, this seemed beyond
fucked up. “I can’t believe she sent a
form letter
!”

“She played us,” Easy said, looking furious.

“And we have a winner!” one of the freshmen cried, jumping up from behind the counting table.

“Save it,” Brandon told her. “No one cares.”

Together, they turned around and looked at Callie once again. Beautiful, treacherous, two-timing Callie.

Callie did not need to be psychic to interpret the nasty looks that both Brandon and Easy threw at her. Without another glance
in her direction, Easy turned and headed for the door. Brandon looked at her as if she’d ripped his heart out—a look she was
familiar with—and then stormed off in the opposite direction.

Callie’s stomach heaved, and her hand crept over her mouth. Maybe she would throw up on her own shoes. Wouldn’t that be just
the icing on the whole fucked-up cake?

“Uh-oh,” Benny singsonged. “Trouble! Looks like someone’s not the Sweet Heart after all!”

Callie ignored her and turned to Alan. He was staring at the helium balloons above them as they danced in the pink light.

“Alan!” she hissed at him. “What happened? They were supposed to fight for me!”

“That sucks,” he said, not really focusing on her.

“That sucks?”
she repeated. “It was
your
idea!”

Alan managed to glance at her then. But he didn’t seem at all apologetic. He looked the way he always did: rumpled and stoned.

“Sorry, dude,” he said. “I was totally baked when I came up with that whole thing. Want to smoke?”

Callie fought back tears. What had she expected? Why had she listened to the biggest stoner at Waverly in the first place?
She felt her stomach twist again and a prickle behind her eyes that let her know she was seconds away from an unstoppable
torrent of tears. She shook her head at Alan mutely and then whirled around. She headed blindly for whatever door she could
find, to put as much space as possible between herself and this night.

T
he lights dimmed in the atrium, and a bright light flickered on the far, blank wall. Everyone quieted down and turned to watch
as an ancient picture of Waverly’s chapel appeared onscreen with the words
LOVE AT WAVERLY
written over it in flowing calligraphy. The picture started to fade, and then the intro to the Black Eyed Peas’ “I Gotta
Feeling” began to play. Everyone clapped and whistled.

The first photo was a pair of horned owls, the Waverly mascots, looking sweet and cuddly. The grim reality was that they were
vicious and shit everywhere and weren’t opposed to injuring any Waverly students who didn’t outrun them. But that was what
made them the perfect Waverly mascots, after all. Everyone cheered.

The photos started coming faster as the song picked up. There was one of Callie and co-captain Celine Colista in field
hockey gear, arms slung around each other after a match. There was a shot of a party in the Richards lounge. Callie, Brett,
Sage, and Benny all sat on a couch, leaning in together and whispering about something. In the next shot, Jenny stood in front
of Heath, holding an insulated coffee mug in her hands and smiling up at him. Then, in a bit of editing genius, the very next
shot was of Jenny again, performing her famous Heath-bashing cheer from Black Saturday back in September, with the whole field
hockey team standing behind her.

While everyone catcalled, Heath took a bow, milking the moment. “Always available, ladies!” he called out.

There were montages of seniors at their convocation in the fall, working on their senior projects and all assembled together
in front of Maxwell for their traditional class picture. There were shots of all the sports teams and all the extracurricular
teams and clubs. The Waverly paper editorial board. The academic clubs.

There were pictures of freshmen performing silly calisthenics as part of their orientation week. Shots of the Drama Club performing
in the black-box theater. And photos of Owls just hanging out, up to their usual forms of mischief. Easy and Jenny with their
desks facing each other in art class, drawing on big sketchpads. All the Dumbarton girls in pajamas and sweats, eating bagels
and drinking orange juice in the dorm’s common room. Alan St. Girard, Ryan Reynolds, Brandon, Heath, and Julian McCafferty,
all kicked back at one of the dining hall tables in front of the fireplace. Tinsley and Julian sitting out on one of the stone
benches in the quad, Tinsley’s legs propped
up across his lap. Skinny, birdlike Yvonne Stidder and Kara Whalen in the foyer of Dumbarton, holding stacks of textbooks
and making silly faces.