A Sa.s.sY WAVERLY OWL KNOWS A KISS IS JUST A KISS.

"Wow. I'd say we got a pretty good turnout." Brett said as Jenny and Kara followed her through the atrium's revolving gla.s.s door. The rain outside made a soothing pattering sound against the gla.s.s ceiling above them.

The Reynolds Atrium was a two-story s.p.a.ce with a gla.s.s barrel-vaulted ceiling designed by I.M. Pei, a multimillion-dollar addition to Maxwell Hall completed only a few years ago through the generous support of Ryan Reynolds's contact-lens-billionaire father. The s.p.a.ce was filled with leafy ficus trees and ferns, making it feel tropical even in the middle of winter, and when the atrium was lit up, you could see it glowing like a giant lightbulb from across campus. The lobby area was really used only for lame coffee-and-scone get-togethers during Parents' Weekend, and spa.r.s.ely attended open-mike readings run by Absinthe, the Waverly literary magazine. Brett was shocked when she pushed the gla.s.s door open and saw dozens of girls crowded around the comfy red Pottery Barn couches, some of them sitting cross-legged on the green-and-gold paisley-pattered carpet.

She felt her stomach start to lurch a little, the way it did before every DC meeting or debate-it was the same sort of queasiness she felt in the seconds leading up to a swan dive into her parents' ginormous kidney-shaped pool. Once she got in the water, so to speak, she was fine. But the jumping made her nervous. Brett wiped her clammy palms against the sides of her dark, skinny-legged Joe's jeans.

The chatter died down as the three girls made their way toward one of the empty red couches near the front of the room that had quite considerately been saved for them. Brett glanced at the girls-almost everyone from Dumbarton was there, minus Tinsley Carmichael, who had been "accidentally" left off the e-mail list.

Brett and Kara sank down onto the couch and watched as Jenny settled onto the floor next to Alison Quentin and . . . Callie? Guess they were friends again. Sort of odd, considering everything they didn't have in common-and the one thing they did. But good for them, getting into the spirit of all this female bonding. Girl power.

"Thank you all for coming," Brett began, trying to make her voice not sound totally authoritative and boring. She was just wearing black leggings and a long navy C&C California tunic, but the girls were all looking at her so expectantly, she might as well have been dressed in her DC formal attire. "Because this is the first meeting of the Women of Waverly, I don't want this to be very formal-I think we should just use this opportunity to get together and talk, and to bring up any issues we have, or any thoughts about what we'd like the club to do in the future." She shrugged her shoulders and glanced around the group as the girls nodded.

Benny Cunningham opened her mouth to say something, but her words were cut off at the sound of the door opening. Suddenly Heath Ferro appeared, wearing a pressed Waverly blazer, his normally unkempt hair combed and plastered into submission. He was waving a book over his head, and to anyone who didn't know him, he looked like a picture-perfect, well-groomed boarding-school boy, eager to learn.

"Don't start without me!" he called out, making his way through the crowd of girls toward the front of the room. Girls giggled but Brett glowered. What the f.u.c.k was he doing? When he got close enough to her, he showed her the book he had in his hand-a copy of the Waverly student handbook. "Shall I quote?" he asked, with a self-satisfied smirk on his handsome face. He opened to a page in the handbook and turned around to face the crowd, clearly pleased to be the center of attention. "No Waverly club can exclude members on the basis of s.e.x, gender, or s.e.xual orientation." He slammed the book shut. "Guess that means I'm in." "I didn't know Waverly offered a law degree," Brett told him snarkily. Heath seemed to have an instinct for showing up exactly where he wasn't wanted.

"You looking for a court battle?" Heath smirked back, holding the handbook over his head like a torch.

"Whatever, Heath. That's fine." Brett rolled her eyes and the girls giggled again. "Can you just maybe pretend for a moment not to be such a guy?" "And can you sit down?" Kara asked pointedly. "We were just about to get started." "No problem, ladies," Heath promised as he patted the pockets of his Abercrombie cargo pants. "But don't we want a group photo first?" He held his tiny silver digital camera up to his face and snapped a picture of the room. He glanced at Brett, who was glaring at him. "Sorry!" he mock-whispered, and slid onto the couch next to Kara.

Brett took a deep breath and tried to forget about the male interloper. "Anyway. In the future we can talk about whatever we want to, but I thought maybe we should start with a topic tonight that can just sort of break the ice." She paused and leaned back on the couch, feeling Heath's eyes on her chest. Perv. Maybe she could shock him right out of the room. "So, how about s.e.x?" Everyone laughed nervously and looked around, blushing. Brett could tell it would take a little prompting to get things going. "What's your favorite movie s.e.x scene?" "Wild Things," Heath offered immediately, his hand covering his heart in earnest. "Hands down. It's a beautiful piece of cinematic realism," he added, licking his lips.

Brett rolled her eyes. "How about we go around the room?" Brett pointed to Jenny, who was on the opposite side of the circle from Heath.

"Hmm." Jenny rested her chin on her fist. "Dirty Dancing." She shrugged her shoulders and looked around the room, her cheeks starting to flush.

"Oh, yeah," Alison agreed.

"What? That's sissy stuff! I mean-"

Brett shot Heath a look that silenced him. "If you're not going to follow the club rules, we'll have to kick you out. Capice?" Heath saluted with two fingers. "Roger, Captain." "Who's next?" Brett asked, looking over at Callie.

"I'm going to have to go with Mr. and Mrs. Smith, Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie. Definitely." She nodded and turned to Kara, who was on her other side.

"Bound," Kara said. "No contest."

"Now that's what I'm talking about!" Heath cried, pounding a gold swirl of carpet in front of him, an ecstatic look spreading over his face. He held up his hand for Kara to high-five, but she grimaced and looked away.

For the next hour, the girls chatted and laughed about s.e.x. Heath attempted to be respectful the whole time, so much so that all the girls seemed to forget he was there. Brett learned all kinds of things that she never would have guessed about people: that Sage Francis was waiting until marriage to lose it, that Yvonne Stidder was just waiting for college, that Rifat Jones had done it and wished she hadn't. Celine Colista wanted to know if oral s.e.x counted as s.e.x (the vote was divided), and Callie wanted to know if s.e.x really hurt as much as people said. The girls who knew replied sadly that it did, at least the first time. Brett was a little shocked at how open everyone was being about something so personal. But it was such a comfortable, supportive environment that anyone could have said anything and it would have been okay. Brett smiled to herself. Not inviting b.i.t.c.hy, judgmental Tinsley to the group was the smartest decision she'd ever made.

The conversation started to wind down, and some girls got up to refill their mugs with cider or grab another gingerbread cookie. Benny suddenly blurted out, "What I want to know is why guys always a.s.sume that if you make out with them, that means you're willing to have s.e.x with them?" she demanded, with an obvious personal investment in the question.

Everyone turned to Heath, as if remembering that he was there. "Wishful thinking." Heath shrugged his shoulders apologetically. "You can't blame us for trying." "Well, that's not really fair," Trisha Reikken spoke up from the edge of one of the red sofas. She was a curvy senior who had a reputation for being willing to do more than kiss. "Why can't guys accept the fact that sometimes a kiss is just a kiss, and that's all they're going get?" She crossed her arms over her ample chest and glared at Heath.

"I hear you." Sage Francis nodded her blond head vigorously. "Guys can get so distracted by the next step, I think sometimes they forget how nice it is to kiss." "Some guys," Heath said pointedly, leaning forward as he spoke. "Me? I love kissing. Kissing is fabulous." He lifted his palms up in an I'm-so-innocent gesture, and everyone laughed. "But, man, so is the next step." "That's her point, dummy." Kara flicked her index finger against Heath's shoulder. "Sometimes there is no next step. Sometimes kissing is the last stop on the train." Heath looked like someone had told him there was no Santa Claus. "No next step?" he said, his face ashen. "The next step is why kissing was invented!" All the girls erupted in dissent, angry mumblings running through the group in waves.

Brett raised a hand, calling everyone to order. "I'm sorry, Heath, but I'm going to have to disagree with you there. Some people-people who have the slightest degree of self-control-can appreciate a kiss for what it is, and end it there." "Right?" Alison nodded emphatically, her silky black hair shiny with the reflection of the atrium's glow. Jenny leaned over to high-five Alison.

"I'm still not sold." Heath shook his head. "You're telling me you can kiss someone and not want more?" "I could." Brett glanced at Kara, who was watching her as she spoke, and a clap of thunder rang out. "I could kiss Kara and appreciate a kiss as being just a kiss." She looked at her friend and shrugged. Maybe this would shut Heath up. Brett brushed her hair back from her face and her lips met Kara's in a quick peck. It was soft and fast and friendly.

"See?" Kara smiled wryly, one eyebrow arching in Heath's direction. "The last stop on the train." Brett smiled and leaned back against the couch, her head spinning a little. She felt very smug and very . . . warm. The kiss had happened so quickly that she couldn't be sure of anything, but maybe, as her lips had touched Kara's and Brett caught the briefest scent of strawberry lip gloss, she had felt something? Huh . . . that was weird.

Brett grabbed her mug of hot chocolate and tried to follow what the group was talking about now. She glanced over at Heath and noticed that he was staring straight at her, an odd smile on his face. She stuck her tongue out at him and then turned back to the group. The circle had disbanded into smaller conversations, but looking around she could see that most people were only pretending to talk and keeping their eyes on Jenny and Callie, who had turned to face each other at the edge of the circle.

Callie bit her Rosebud-moisturized lips and looked at her roommate's unbearably sweet-looking face. Jenny sat cross-legged on the floor in a pair of charcoal-gray yoga pants and a thick oatmeal sweater that she very cutely sort of disappeared in. No matter how much they had competed over Easy, Callie couldn't help but want to hug Jenny right now. Especially after all the feel-good sisterly bonding. She felt like a cheeseball, but it was pretty inspiring. "You're an awesome person, and you're my roommate, and I just want us to be friends," Callie finally said, really meaning it. Easy was a Neanderthal. He was her Neanderthal, sure, but Jenny was her roommate. And maybe even her friend.

"What if we both just . . . let go of him? For our friendship?" Jenny asked hopefully, her face as sweetly angelic as ever.

Callie's brow unwrinkled and she broke into a wide, relieved smile. It was as if something had clicked in her head. How simple: just let him go and stay friends with her roommate.

She looked again at Jenny's wide-eyed, rosy-cheeked, expectant face. What had Easy Walsh ever done for her, anyway? "That sounds like a plan." Jenny threw her arms around Callie and Callie patted her back. The roomful of girls gave up pretending not to be listening and burst into applause.

"Now you two! Kiss!" Heath suddenly yelled, pounding the carpet with both hands this time. Once again, everyone had pretty much forgotten he was there. "Kiss! Do it! You know you want-" Brett picked up a heavy brocade pillow and smacked it into his chest. The meeting was definitely over.

8.

COME h.e.l.l OR HIGH WATER, A WAVERLY OWL KEEPS HER PROMISES.

Tinsley poked her head out of her dorm room after a two-hour-long, post-tennis practice nap that stretched all the way through dinner. It was already dark outside and the entire first floor was strangely deserted. The silence was eerie, and it felt almost as though there'd been a nuke scare and she was the only one on campus not hiding in the bomb shelter. What an excellent opportunity to summon Julian. Just the thought of him, sitting across campus, staring out of his Wolcott bedroom window, waiting to catch a glimpse of a little flame, sent shivers down her spine.

Her dorm room window faced the opposite direction, so Tinsley made her way to the bathroom, propping open one of the heavy, opaque gla.s.s windows. She flicked on Julian's Zippo, watching the flame shine through the night air once, twice, three times. Her fingers traced Julian's engraved initials.

Not even three minutes had pa.s.sed-barely enough time for Tinsley to tweeze out some stray eyebrow hairs in the mirror-before she saw an all-black-clad figure veer off the sidewalk and over to the side of Dumbarton. He pressed his back to the brick wall and slowly slid along it, his head darting from side to side as he scoped out the scene.

"Hey," a voice called from below.

"Shh!" Tinsley hissed, sticking her head out the window. Julian reached up and grabbed her hand, anchoring his feet against the brick outside wall and pulling himself up through the window. He stumbled awkwardly to his feet.

"This looks familiar." His eyes darted around the bathroom-no doubt he was remembering that this was the very place they'd first hooked up. "I think I was in here in a dream once," he said jokingly.

"Maybe you were." Tinsley leaned backward against a sink and noticed that Julian was wearing a sh.e.l.l necklace, the kind a girlfriend would buy when she was on vacation in Nantucket or Fire Island. Tinsley, narrowed her eyes. Obviously, she wanted Julian to have had girlfriends before-she didn't want to have to train him completely-but that didn't mean she wanted to see remnants of them hanging off him.

"Nah, it couldn't have been a dream." He glanced over his shoulder at Tinsley and his dark eyes called her toward him. She wanted him to come to her, but she couldn't resist. "You always wake up from them." Tinsley stepped away from the sink, her bare feet touching the cold tile floor of the shower. She pulled the curtain closed behind her and ran one hand across Julian's chest. She pushed him against the stall wall and kissed him like she hadn't seen him in months, though in reality it had been about three hours.

"Did you miss me?" she teased, in between kisses. His hands were gripping her sides, his fingers playing with the bottom of her red American Apparel T-shirt, begging to be allowed to go underneath.

Julian growled and his hands touched Tinsley's bare skin. She shuddered a little, as they crept oh-so-slowly up her ribs, and just as she was about to slap them away-he couldn't go there without asking permission, of course-the bathroom door rattled open with a loud clang. They pulled their lips apart and their eyes widened in surprise, but Julian didn't take his hands off of Tinsley's body.

Tinsley pressed a finger to Julian's lips, her pulse racing. As they held their breath the intruder started to sing, "Da de da de da dum . . . da de da de da dum . . ." Julian's beautiful eyes formed question marks as Tinsley tried to determine the person who belonged to that voice. It wouldn't be a big deal if it was a girl who was easy to push over, like a soph.o.m.ore or a nerd-Tinsley could just enlist the girl's help in sneaking Julian into her room, and they could continue their romantic interlude there. The two of them tried not to giggle as they listened to the sounds of peeing. Just as she was about to peek around the curtain, the voice broke into words: "Don't stand, don't stand so, don't stand so close to me. . . ." Tinsley's jaw dropped. f.u.c.k. Of course Pardee was a cheesy Police fan. Tinsley had heard-the whole first floor had heard-the dorm adviser, Angelica Pardee, complaining loudly to her husband this morning to either fix their shower or find "a real man" who could. Apparently, he'd been unable to do so. Tinsley pressed her finger harder against Julian's lips as they heard her flip-flops slapping against the hard floors. How was she going to spin this one if Pardee pulled back the curtain and found Tinsley in the shower stall with a guy?

Then came the sound of the curtain of the adjacent stall being pulled back and the water being turned on. Jesus. That was close. "Come on," she mouthed, nodding toward the door. "We've got to get you out of here." Julian feigned not understanding, and whispered back at her, "What? You want to make out some more?" He leaned in to kiss her.

"Later!" she accidentally said out loud, thankfully at the same moment that Pardee broke into song once again.

"Her friends are so jealous, you know how bad girls get. . . ." Tinsley rolled her eyes, inching back the shower curtain and sneaking through, pulling Julian behind her. She motioned toward the window, but just as he was about to step through it, a group of girls appeared on the sidewalk, heading toward the dorm's front entrance. d.a.m.n it. There was no way Tinsley could let them see her sneak Julian out of the bathroom window-it would take about five seconds before the entire campus knew that she was hooking up with a freaking freshman.

"Not that way," Tinsley whispered urgently. She tugged him away from the window, almost making him fall, then dragged him, tiptoeing, out the door. He tried to kiss her again but Tinsley slapped him away, a little more violently than she'd intended to.

"You can sneak out my window," she hissed. But before they were halfway down the hall, the front door started to open, and she quickly grabbed the handle of the broom closet, stuffing a protesting Julian inside.

"What are you doing?" His m.u.f.fled voice came from inside the closet as a cl.u.s.ter of giggling girls turned down the corridor.

"I'll get you in a minute, when it's safe," Tinsley growled under her breath. She quickly removed the irritated look from her face and strode toward her room, trying to look as natural as possible.

"T!" Sage Francis cried out just as Tinsley had reached the door to her bedroom. "Where the h.e.l.l were you?" Tinsleylookedfromhertotheothergirls,notcomprehending. "What are you talking about?" she asked with icy disinterest, her hand poised on her doork.n.o.b.

"You missed the Women of Waverly meeting?" Sage shook her corn-silk-blond hair back and forth, chewing a wad of bubble gum too big for her mouth. Sage had recently read something online about how an hour of gum-chewing burned a hundred calories, and she had quickly adopted the habit, dying to shed the five pounds that were always plaguing her. But Tinsley thought the overpowering scent of spearmint had to be doing Sage's love life more harm than good.

"The what?" Tinsley didn't know what she was talking about, and she didn't much care. So long as n.o.body knew what she'd been doing for the last half hour.

Sage's jaw dropped. "Did you not get Brett's e-mail?" Her eyebrows were raised in concern, but she clearly loved knowing something Tinsley didn't.

"The . . . uh, Women of Waverly?" Tinsley made her voice as disdainful as possible. The Women of Waverly? It bored her just to say it.

"Well, you missed out!" Sage's voice was bubbling over with excitement, and Tinsley couldn't help feeling a twinge of jealousy that everyone had done something she hadn't. Sage tugged at something underneath her thick navy turtleneck. "Sorry, this underwire keeps, like, stabbing me." Tinsley simply raised a dark, neatly plucked eyebrow, trying not to be annoyed. She fingered the doork.n.o.b, part of her wanting to slam the door in Sage's smug face and leave her there adjusting her bra, part of her wanting to know what Sage was talking about. She'd be d.a.m.ned if she'd ask another question about Brett's stupid club, but still, that didn't mean she didn't want to hear about it.

Sage finally glanced up and saw Tinsley's irritated look. "Sorry," she said quickly. "I've got to change. But come up with me-I'll fill you in." "Sure, whatever." Tinsley stalked up the stairs, following Sage as she prattled on, leaving a trail of yellow and orange leaves from the bottom of her magenta-and-lime plaid Burberry wellies as she walked. Tinsley was so caught up in how not jealous she was feeling that she'd forgotten all about what she'd been doing that night-and that Julian was in a dark broom closet, wondering what the h.e.l.l was taking her so long.

EasyWalsh: What're you doing? I need to talk to you.

CallieVernon: 'Bout what?

EasyWalsh: In person. Could you sneak out? Meet me at the stables tonight?

CallieVernon: Tonite? I'm busy.

EasyWalsh: Please? It's important.

CallieVernon: If you want to talk to me so badly, you're just going to have to wait until tomorrow. In the daylight.

EasyWalsh: All right. Before bio lab?

CallieVernon: Whatever. I've got some news for you too.

EasyWalsh: 'Kay. Miss you. G'night.

CallieVernon has signed off.

JulianMcCafferty: Dude, did you relock the tunnels on your way back home last weekend?

HeathFerro: Whaddya mean? The door in Lasell?

JulianMcCafferty: In Dumbarton.

HeathFerro: UR s.h.i.t outta luck-locked it behind us. Didn't want any strangers sneaking in.

JulianMcCafferty: U know any other ways out?

HeathFerro: WTF R U doing over there now? Tinsley give you a booty call?

JulianMcCafferty: You're such an idiot.

HeathFerro: Listen, bro, if you've fi gured out how to get into her pants, you can defi nitely figure out how to get out of that dorm.

9.

WAVERLY OWLS DO NOT SNEAK INTO OPPOSITE-s.e.x DORMS-UNLESS THEY HAVE A WAY OUT.

Jenny walked carefully over toward Callie, trying not to spill the mugs of hot cider she held in either hand. Her roommate was perched on the edge of one of the red couches, holding her cell and texting furiously. After the Women of Waverly meeting officially disbanded ten minutes earlier, Brett and Kara had been attacked by swarms of happy girls wanting to thank them for putting the whole thing together, leaving Jenny and Callie on their own. As she approached with the mugs, she saw Callie drop her phone back into the pocket of her navy Ralph Lauren raincoat.

"Thanks," Callie said, looking up with surprise as Jenny handed her the mug. Her cheeks were flushed, and Jenny couldn't help but wonder if it was due to the sweltering temperature inside the atrium or whatever she'd just been texting about.

"Wanna head back?" Jenny asked, putting down her cider as she realized she was too hot to drink it. Even though she'd taken off her heavy wool sweater and was just wearing a thin black Club Monaco tee, she could feel that her bra was damp with sweat. Gross.

"Yes," Callie answered, looking relieved. "Let's go." The two of them headed out into the dark, chilly night, and Jenny stopped for a minute, letting the cool air hit her hot skin before pulling on her sweater. Up ahead of them a flock of other girls made their way back to the dorms. Callie and Jenny lagged behind a little, the only noise coming from the dried leaves crunching under their shoes. They weren't talking, but for the first time Jenny could tell that it was a comfortable silence that had fallen between them.

In some ways it was sad that things with Easy were officially over, that she'd made a pact with Callie, and that now even if Easy came back and said he loved her, she'd have to refuse him. But looking into Callie's eyes and promising in front of the whole world that their friendship would always come before Easy, or any other boy for that matter, made Jenny realize how crippled with guilt she'd been over the whole situation. Maybe if she were a different person, someone like Tinsley, she could have dated Easy without the guilt, and it could have been wonderful. But she was done with trying to be someone else. She was Jenny Humphrey, like it or not, and Jenny Humphrey did not steal other people's boyfriends.

"Hey, I'm going to leave a note for Brett," Jenny said as they stepped into the lobby of Dumbarton. The floor was covered with leaves and dozens of girls' footprints. Pardee was going to be p.i.s.sed tomorrow when she saw the mess.

"'Kay." Callie grinned at Jenny over her shoulder as she walked toward the staircase. Jenny watched her for a second. Despite the fact that Callie had tightened the drawstring on her gray flannel L.A.M.B. pants as much as humanly possible, the pants still sagged down to her hips, revealing a tiny strawberry-shaped birthmark near her bony spine. Jenny wished she could stuff some cookies into her, but even the delicious, warm gingerbread ones hadn't tempted Callie at the meeting tonight. "See you later, roomie!" She waved as she disappeared from sight.

Jenny smiled back at her, still feeling all warm and fuzzy from the meeting, and headed toward Brett's room. As she pa.s.sed the hall broom closet she paused. What was that beeping sound? It was faint, but it was definitely coming from the closet. Curious, Jenny cracked open the door.

"OhmiG.o.d!" She jumped back. There was someone in there! A guy! She might have screamed if she hadn't quickly recognized Julian, that tall freshman who was always hanging out with the older boys. He was holding a black cell phone in his right hand, his thumb poised to start texting.

"Shhh!" he hissed, looking almost as startled as she felt. "What are you doing here?" Jenny whispered back, glancing down the hallway. She couldn't see anyone, but she could hear Benny Cunningham and some other girls in the lounge watching Grey's Anatomy reruns.

"I was, uh . . ." Julian's pupils were dilated from standing in the dark, making Jenny wonder how long he'd been in the closet. And how he got there in the first place. "Looking for something I left here this weekend." Jenny smiled skeptically. "What, your cleaning supplies?" She leaned her head against the edge of the door, suddenly very conscious of the presence of a boy in Dumbarton.