Free Lucky by Cecily von Ziegesar

T-shirts at the entry to the party.
Btw, plebes—you’re all welcome to the party, to help give US a fond farewell, but whenever you come across one of US, you have to do exactly what that person says, as it could be his or her last night of freedom.
Don’t mess with US!!
Peace out,
Heath

    Instant Message Inbox

HeathFerro: You in for the US party?
TinsleyCarmichael: I’m there. But I promise you, I won’t be leaving the next day.
HeathFerro: That’s the fighting spirit.
TinsleyCarmichael: Um, you texted me—why?
HeathFerro: I know you like your guys young … but how young?
TinsleyCarmichael: Listen, Heath. These annoying IMs? I’m starting to hope YOU don’t return.
HeathFerro: Ouch!

10
A WAVERLY OWL DOES NOT CONSPIRE AGAINST FELLOW OWLS .
    Callie hunched over her chipped yellow cappuccino mug, her bare elbows sticking to the corner booth table at the Waverly Inn in downtown Rhinecliff. It seemed like a million years ago since she and Tinsley and Brett had congregated at this very table over amaretto sours and champagne, in an effort to help her drown out any memory of Easy. The Waverly Inn had seemed like the perfect set for a movie, with its dark wood bar, crusty bartender, and ancient, absurdly proper New England-y style. Today, in the late-morning light, the hotel bar looked more like a cafeteria in an old folks’ home. The only patrons were senior citizens, all of whom looked like they’d seen better days. The table was sticky and looked like it needed a good scrub-down, and the chips in the coffee mugs were clear in the light of day.
    Class that morning had been out of the question. On Friday, Mr. Gaston had promised them a “surprise” for Monday, which Callie was pretty sure meant a quiz and not a five- hundred- dollar gift certificate to Barneys. No way could she be expected to identify Latin vocab after Dean Marymount’s e-mail. When she first saw the message in her inbox, so quickly after his last one, she’d hoped that the dean had ferreted out the guilty party--i.e., Jenny Humphrey--kicked her out, and closed the case. She’d already mentally planned taking over Jenny’s side of the room. But when she found out that
she
was a possible suspect in the fire, her fantasies about moving all her shoes into Jenny’s closet were replaced by nightmares of living at home and being forced to go to Atlanta public school with a bunch of kooky rednecks.
    “Thanks for meeting me. You know CoffeeRoasters and Maxwell’s were far too public.” Tinsley took a sip of her cappuccino. Her thick black hair was swept up in a sloppy bun and secured by a pair of turquoise lacquered chopsticks, and she wore a navy Wayne sailor minidress that hugged her in all the right places. On anyone else, the outfit would have looked like a slutty Halloween costume, but Tinsley looked beautiful, as always.
    What was amazing was how unthreatened Callie felt about her perfect-looking best friend these days. Despite the pimple threatening to break out above her left eye, and the two pounds she’d certainly put on over the weekend, drinking beer and eating anything Easy offered her, she felt more secure and confident than ever. She and Easy were in love again, even more so than before, and they had actually done it. It was incredible. She felt so … adult.
Take that, Carmichael
.
    “Maybe I should’ve worn my Ella Moss wrap dress—you know that one that always looks like it’s going to unwrap? It worked on Dalton.” Tinsley leaned back in the booth and smiled fondly at the ancient tin ceiling. “Actually, it works on everyone. I still can’t believe Marymount didn’t believe me.”
    Callie sipped her cappuccino slowly.
    “Anyway.” Tinsley leaned in. “I’m not too worried about it.” She waved her hand as if swatting away an annoying fly. Her silver Anaconda ring sparkled in the morning light. “It isn’t going to be
us
that gets sent home, that much I can guarantee you.”
    The thought of moving back into her