Read Online Classic by Cecily von Ziegesar - Free Book Online
Authors: Cecily von Ziegesar
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need it.
SageFrancis: Promise me you’ll pick me up if I pass out on the ground. You know he won’t!
BennyCunningham: I have your back.
----
Owl Net
Instant Message Inbox
----
IsaacDresden : Hey there, Match. I was wondering if you wanted to come over this afternoon before the Three-Legged Race? My sources tell
me it’s a lot more fun with some cocktails, and I can get us into the wine cellar here. I know the dean.
BrettMesserschmidt: I like the sound of that! What time? I get out of calc at 2.
IsaacDresden: I’ll meet you right after that on the quad?
BrettMesserschmidt: C U then!
10
A WAVERLY OWL KNOWS WHEN TO MIND HER OWN
BUSINESS—AND WHEN TO MIND SOMEONE ELSE’S.
B rett stuck her hands into the pockets of her navy double-breasted coat and buried her chin against the blue-and-black plaid
Armand Diradourian scarf her sister, Brianna, had sent her as a part of her latest care package from New York. Ahead of her,
Isaac led the way up the steps to the dean’s house. His house.
The last time Brett had been here, she’d stormed off from the infamous Jan Plan party, furious with Sebastian. That memory
did not exactly inspire her to be any more excited about
this
visit. But Isaac was really nice—he’d met her on the quad as promised and they’d had a nice walk over—and Brett really could
go for a glass of wine to get her mind off his bitchy, boyfriend-stealing sister. She didn’t know why she’d been paired up
with Isaac. He seemed sweet, but as far as Brett could tell the only thing they had in common was that they both liked Jenny.
She walked up the steps behind him as he tugged off one of his brown leather gloves and flipped open the box that concealed
the security pad beneath. She watched him tap a very long string of numbers into the machine.
“Wow, that’s some door code,” she observed. “I can’t remember more than four numbers at a time.”
“Neither can I,” Isaac said, grinning over his shoulder. “Which is why the password is my birthday and then my sister’s, so
we’ll all remember it. My dad gets pissed if we have to call security just to let us into the house.”
Brett smiled at him and followed him into the foyer. She glanced up at the stained glass cupola, which glowed prettily in
the afternoon sunshine. The dean had had it repaired almost immediately after the party, Brett had heard. You’d never know
that Isla had crashed through it—and had somehow survived to continue ruining lives.
Brett pulled off her scarf, shoved it in one of her pockets, and followed after Isaac as he headed toward the kitchen in the
back of the house. He shrugged his coat off and tossed it on one of the benches in the small eating area, so Brett did the
same. She smoothed her hands over her hips. She’d dressed for the Three-Legged Race in dark midnight blue J brand cords, shiny
black patent leather Repetto ballet flats, and a charcoal gray hip-length Inhabit cardigan with chunky buttons. She fingered
one of the buttons as she stood in the kitchen, amused for some reason that even in the dean’s fancy residence the ancient
Waverly radiators kept up their symphony of hissing and clanking. It was the same in Dumbarton.
“Let’s get the pregame going,” Isaac said with his cheerful, open smile, and pulled on the door on the wall nearest him, waving
Brett through. “I’ve been waiting forever to really christen this wine cellar. Probation lasted way too long.”
“Tell me about it,” Brett agreed, although she wasn’t sure exactly how much Isaac, as the dean’s son, had actually suffered.
She was pretty sure
he
hadn’t had the questionable joy of being restricted to a dorm and then only let out for academic reasons, usually monitored
by a member of the faculty.
“I missed Jenny,” he said as he led the way into the cool cellar. Brett felt herself soften. How sweet was this guy? He’d
hated not seeing Jenny as much as Brett had hated not
SageFrancis: Promise me you’ll pick me up if I pass out on the ground. You know he won’t!
BennyCunningham: I have your back.
----
Owl Net
Instant Message Inbox
----
IsaacDresden : Hey there, Match. I was wondering if you wanted to come over this afternoon before the Three-Legged Race? My sources tell
me it’s a lot more fun with some cocktails, and I can get us into the wine cellar here. I know the dean.
BrettMesserschmidt: I like the sound of that! What time? I get out of calc at 2.
IsaacDresden: I’ll meet you right after that on the quad?
BrettMesserschmidt: C U then!
10
A WAVERLY OWL KNOWS WHEN TO MIND HER OWN
BUSINESS—AND WHEN TO MIND SOMEONE ELSE’S.
B rett stuck her hands into the pockets of her navy double-breasted coat and buried her chin against the blue-and-black plaid
Armand Diradourian scarf her sister, Brianna, had sent her as a part of her latest care package from New York. Ahead of her,
Isaac led the way up the steps to the dean’s house. His house.
The last time Brett had been here, she’d stormed off from the infamous Jan Plan party, furious with Sebastian. That memory
did not exactly inspire her to be any more excited about
this
visit. But Isaac was really nice—he’d met her on the quad as promised and they’d had a nice walk over—and Brett really could
go for a glass of wine to get her mind off his bitchy, boyfriend-stealing sister. She didn’t know why she’d been paired up
with Isaac. He seemed sweet, but as far as Brett could tell the only thing they had in common was that they both liked Jenny.
She walked up the steps behind him as he tugged off one of his brown leather gloves and flipped open the box that concealed
the security pad beneath. She watched him tap a very long string of numbers into the machine.
“Wow, that’s some door code,” she observed. “I can’t remember more than four numbers at a time.”
“Neither can I,” Isaac said, grinning over his shoulder. “Which is why the password is my birthday and then my sister’s, so
we’ll all remember it. My dad gets pissed if we have to call security just to let us into the house.”
Brett smiled at him and followed him into the foyer. She glanced up at the stained glass cupola, which glowed prettily in
the afternoon sunshine. The dean had had it repaired almost immediately after the party, Brett had heard. You’d never know
that Isla had crashed through it—and had somehow survived to continue ruining lives.
Brett pulled off her scarf, shoved it in one of her pockets, and followed after Isaac as he headed toward the kitchen in the
back of the house. He shrugged his coat off and tossed it on one of the benches in the small eating area, so Brett did the
same. She smoothed her hands over her hips. She’d dressed for the Three-Legged Race in dark midnight blue J brand cords, shiny
black patent leather Repetto ballet flats, and a charcoal gray hip-length Inhabit cardigan with chunky buttons. She fingered
one of the buttons as she stood in the kitchen, amused for some reason that even in the dean’s fancy residence the ancient
Waverly radiators kept up their symphony of hissing and clanking. It was the same in Dumbarton.
“Let’s get the pregame going,” Isaac said with his cheerful, open smile, and pulled on the door on the wall nearest him, waving
Brett through. “I’ve been waiting forever to really christen this wine cellar. Probation lasted way too long.”
“Tell me about it,” Brett agreed, although she wasn’t sure exactly how much Isaac, as the dean’s son, had actually suffered.
She was pretty sure
he
hadn’t had the questionable joy of being restricted to a dorm and then only let out for academic reasons, usually monitored
by a member of the faculty.
“I missed Jenny,” he said as he led the way into the cool cellar. Brett felt herself soften. How sweet was this guy? He’d
hated not seeing Jenny as much as Brett had hated not
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