Lucky (19 page)

“How do you even know about the drawing?” Jenny demanded, finally finding her voice. “Have you been
spying
on me?” She sharpened her tongue with as much anger as she could muster, but she was still a little bit afraid of Tinsley. Did everyone think that just because she’d drawn a picture of the burning barn, she’d actually burned it down? That was totally crazy. But then, so was this whole situation.

“Are you denying it?” Tinsley paced by the window like a prosecutor on TV. Jenny had the sense that she’d been waiting for this moment—maybe since the second her vintage Fendi boots had set foot back on campus and she’d found Jenny in her room. Tinsley had hated Jenny long before anything had even happened between her and Julian, although that must have been the final straw.

“But how—” Jenny cut herself off rather than repeat her question. She felt the room starting to spin, like something in
Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory
. Except instead of Johnny Depp, it was Tinsley Carmichael pulling the strings. She couldn’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t make her sound guilty, and even Alison and Brett and Brandon and Julian, people she’d thought would be on her side, were waiting expectantly for her to say something in her own defense.

“It doesn’t matter how I know,” Tinsley snapped. “Just answer the question.”

Jenny could sense the restlessness in the room. Even Julian was looking at her with a curious expression in his big brown eyes. “It’s not a big deal,” she tried to explain, focusing on Brett, who had to know she was innocent. “Mrs. Silver, you know how she is.” Jenny brushed her curly hair away from her face, feeling the heat in the room and wishing she had a glass of water. She stared at Brandon’s bottle of Evian longingly, already feeling herself losing her train of thought. “She had us do this drawing, you know, with our eyes closed,” Jenny explained, her breathing becoming labored as she fumbled through the words. “And I was having a hard time with it. I guess I was stressed out by … well, we’re all stressed out, right? This whole thing has us stressed out, right?”

Jenny looked around the room for affirmation, but the Usual Suspects—her supposed friends—averted their eyes.

“So …” Tinsley prompted, resting against the window ledge, her arms still crossed over her chest. “Your drawing?” she asked coldly.

“It was a picture of the fire,” Jenny answered, feeling miserable, cursing Mrs. Silver for pushing her so hard to get into her subconscious. Why couldn’t she have just drawn some stupid random rectangles, like Alison?

“Big deal.” Heath spoke up. He glanced at Jenny, and she thought of her first night at Waverly, when she’d made out with him. “No offense. I’m sure it’s a Picasso or a Rembrandt or whatever.” She’d been so eager to fit in then, so excited about her brand-new life at boarding school. Now two boys had lied to her and broken her heart, and the popular girls clearly wanted her dead. Was her life any better than it had been before? No, it was a thousand times worse.

Tinsley shot Heath a glare that silenced him. Of course he was in her power, too. “What else was in the picture?” she asked.

“What do you mean?” Jenny asked innocently. She was hoping Julian or Heath would jump in again, or Brett, and derail Tinsley’s cross-examination. But no one said anything, and she stared at the silly red watch on her wrist. She wished she were anywhere but here—on the sweaty, crowded 2 train in the Bronx after a Yankees loss, even. Anywhere.

“Did you draw two people in the fire?” Tinsley asked point-blank. Before Jenny could open her mouth—she wasn’t sure what she was going to say; if only she were capable of the kind of first-class lying she’d witnessed in her short time at Waverly—Tinsley added, “And wasn’t it Callie and Easy you drew in the burning barn?”

Someone in the corner gasped. Jenny hoped it wasn’t Julian.

“Is that true?” Benny clapped a delicate hand to her mouth. “That’s so …” Her words trailed off.

“Weren’t you so jealous of Callie and Easy that you decided to burn the barn down when you saw them go inside?” Tinsley put her hands on her hips, drumming her fingers on her slim waistline.

“That’s enough. Knock it off.” Easy sat up in his chair, a chagrined look on his face. “It was just a drawing. Stop being such a pushy bitch.”

Jenny felt a surge of gratitude, but before she could say anything else, the door flew open, and in one smooth motion, Dean Marymount breezed in and stood in the center of the room.

“So,” he said, hands in the pockets of his blazer. Jenny felt like she was about to pass out. What kind of lazy dean was he? Instead of interviewing students, gathering evidence, and talking to the police like he should have, he’d let the bullies have their way. “Have you come to a decision?”

Jenny glanced around. Everyone was staring back at her. Even Julian was looking at her like he didn’t recognize her. She gripped the table, conscious only of one thing: She’d never really belonged at Waverly to begin with. It was obvious that if everyone was so quick to turn on her, none of them really cared about her. At the start of the semester, all she’d wanted was to make friends and feel like she belonged. But was anyone present ever really her friend? She’d thought Callie was briefly, but she’d been so very wrong about that. Brett certainly cared about her, but she’d been too caught up recently with whatever was happening with Kara to even ask how Jenny was doing. Her entire relationship with Easy now felt like a mirage. And Julian’s kisses were completely tainted by the fact that he’d lied to her, too.

“Well?” Marymount demanded, a note of impatience in his voice. No one spoke.

Jenny looked around. One of them was guilty, but suddenly, it didn’t really matter who. She just knew she had to get out of that suffocating room.

“
I
did it, all right?” She pushed her heavy chair back from the table with a screech, her fingertips burning against the wood. She could feel her cheeks flush, and before anyone could stop her, she marched straight out of the room.

Hot tears blinded Jenny as she tore down the steps and sprinted across the quad to Dumbarton. It was over—boarding school, boys, hanging out with the in crowd. She was going to her room to pack her bags and leave, forever.

Email Inbox

From:
[email protected]

To:
Waverly Student Body

Date:
Wednesday, October 16, 12:34 P.M.

Subject:
Justice

My fellow Owls,

The matter of the fire at the Miller farm has been resolved. A student has come forward and confessed to the crime. She will be removed from campus immediately.

I am counting on you to take this as a serious warning. In the future, you will behave like proper Waverly Owls.

Gratefully,

Dean Marymount

Instant Message Inbox

KaraWhalen:
I just woke up.
WTF
happened?

HeathFerro:
Some shit went down. Short answer: Jenny confessed.

KaraWhalen:
What??? No way!

HeathFerro:
Sux, I kno. But maybe U should talk to Brett.

KaraWhalen:
Y?

HeathFerro:
Just talk to her.

KaraWhalen:
OK …

HeathFerro:
Actually, if you come over I’ll tell you everything. ;)

Jenny folded her last pair of Banana Republic jeans into her dad’s old brown Samsonite. The faded hugs not bombs sticker near the handle caught her eye, and she instantly wondered how the hell she was going to explain this to her dad. She hadn’t even responded to his e-mail that was-written in the voice of their cat. Whatever. She had a whole train ride into the city to figure it out. She’d packed her enormous red-and-white polka-dotted LeSportsac with lightning speed, throwing her books and clothes and makeup haphazardly inside, not caring if she was leaving anything behind. It hadn’t seemed that long ago that she’d gotten out of the cab and trudged up the Waverly driveway, hauling everything she owned.

Now she looked back on that Jenny—the Old Jenny who wanted to be New Jenny—with disdain. She couldn’t believe she’d been so naive as to think that her entire life was going to change for the better when she went to boarding school. Back in the city, she’d always managed to get herself into trouble—she’d even wound up on Page Six—but here, she thought she’d be a cooler, more composed version of herself. But she hadn’t even lasted two months. It was a small blip in her life. Someday she’d be a creaky old lady in a creaky old rocker with boobs down to her knees, and she might not even remember she ever went to boarding school.

Jenny felt tears welling in her eyes, and her throat tightening. How could she forget Easy sketching her, or Julian’s kiss at the farm, or manicure nights with Brett? But right now, those things were completely overshadowed by the dark cloud that was Tinsley Carmichael. Jenny still couldn’t believe what Tinsley had done, but even more unbelievable was the idea that Tinsley hated her enough to do it. It felt terrible to be that hated.

Jenny sat down on the top of the overstuffed Samsonite, trying to get the latches to click. She didn’t know where the confession had come from, but a sense of relief had washed over her as she stormed out of Dean Marymount’s office. She was
free
. No more worrying about who was saying what about her, or what dark forces were conspiring against her.

She whirled around at the sound of tapping on her door, wondering if Tinsley or Callie had come to laugh at her as she packed her things. Instead, Easy was leaning in the doorway, his hands in the pockets of his faded green cargos, his dark curls falling over his forehead.

“You really going?” he asked softly. His eyes wandered across the room, landing on her empty bed, the soft sheets already stuffed into her duffel, along with the scratchy baby blue blanket her dad had sent to school with her.

“I’m expelled,” Jenny said flatly. “That’s that.”

Easy scratched the back of his neck. She felt his eyes on her face, but she turned away to concentrate on the suitcase latches, willing them to close. “Yeah, but—” He didn’t finish his sentence and Jenny stood still, waiting. “But you didn’t really have anything to do with the fire, right?”

Jenny didn’t answer. She didn’t trust her voice right now. She turned back to her suitcase so her face wouldn’t betray her emotions. It had been sweet of Easy to try and defend her against Tinsley—she appreciated it, really. But it was too little, too late.

“Hey,” Easy said. She was about to turn around, thinking he wanted her to face him, but she heard Brett’s voice say “hey” back. The Samsonite latch finally clicked into place, and Jenny grabbed the L.L. Bean tote her dad had sent her. He’d had it monogrammed with the letters
JAH
even though her middle name was Tallulah. He’d told her the reggae-loving stoners would get the joke, even if Jenny didn’t. She stuffed her colorful sock balls inside, thankful that she’d already packed all her underwear and oversize granny bras before any visitors arrived.

“Well, Marymount’s happier than shit.” Brett exhaled, her voice sounding lighter than her worried, pale face looked. “It’s like he solved the Kennedy assassination or something.”

Jenny pursed her lips. “Good,” was all she said.

Alison suddenly appeared behind Brett. “Ugh,” she cried out when she saw Jenny packing. “Are you
serious?
” she asked, pushing her way through. “You can’t be serious.”

Jenny shrugged and stared helplessly at Alison’s concerned, almond-shaped eyes. It was all she could do to dam up the tears she wanted to spill all over her half-empty dorm room. The truth was, as much as she was trying to convince herself otherwise, she loved these people, and she loved boarding school.

The room grew smaller as Brandon wedged his way through the doorway, the light, airy scent of his Acqua di Gio cologne filling the air. “Don’t leave,” he said to Jenny, his voice soft and sweet, making Jenny kind of wish she’d kissed him once, just to see what it was like. But then, he hadn’t exactly stood up for her at the meeting, either. “We all know you didn’t do it.”

“But whoever did totally sucks,” Brett said, going up to Jenny and putting her arm around her. She was a good five inches taller than Jenny, and Jenny’s head fit comfortably into the crook of her arm. “I can’t believe someone is going to get away with arson and you’re leaving. It’s just not fair.”

“We can go to Marymount and say that you didn’t have anything to do with it,” Alison said shakily, probably feeling guilty about the whole art-class thing, although it hadn’t been her fault. Jenny had the feeling that she’d be where she was right now even if she hadn’t drawn that picture of Easy and Callie in the fire.

“Yes!” Brett agreed, dropping her arm to turn toward Alison. “I’ll go with you.”

“No, don’t.” Jenny was surprised at the authority in her voice. She pulled her suitcase off her bed and let it hit the bare wood floor with a loud, ominous thud. “It doesn’t matter. He wouldn’t believe you anyway.” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Maybe it’s for the best.”

“It’s like we have a murderer wandering free among us.” Brett shook her wild, fire engine red hair. Jenny looked at her friend and thought about how much she was going to miss her. They’d still e-mail, right?

No one said anything, and a dark silence enveloped the room.

“Excuse me,” a voice said. Jenny recognized Julian’s voice and her heart skipped. Everyone turned to him expectantly, as if he were the governor calling with a last-minute stay of execution. “Could I … uh … just talk to Jenny, for a minute? Alone?” Jenny stuffed a couple of J.Crew sweaters from her last drawer into her tote, trying not to think how nice it sounded to hear her name on Julian’s lips. Easy backed out of the doorway, nodding at Jenny as he disappeared down the hall. Brett and Brandon and Alison shuffled out, too. Julian leaned against the door to close it. His head almost reached the top of the doorway. “How are you doing?”