Chapter 2

Callie Vernon twirled some of her dark hair around her finger while she absentmindedly listened to her AP French Language and Culture teacher, Monsieur Lamont, give the class an overview of what they were expected to do for that semester. She didn't really care about French. But she cared about Spanish, German, Chinese, Italian and Japanese a whole lot less. And since every Waverly student was expected to do a foreign language while there, she'd opted for French. And it had actually come in somewhat handy since she'd spent a couple weeks in France over the summer break and she was actually able to comfortably converse with native speakers.

She looked over to her left, where Jenny Humphrey was looking positively bored out of her mind at everything Lamont had been saying. Like Callie, Jenny was probably counting the minutes to the lunch break.

"And so," said Lamont in his thick French accent, walking through the aisles of the classroom, the heels of his loafers clicking against the tiles, "I just want to remind you that I expect excellent work from you this year. This is an AP class. And today is the only day you will ever hear me speak English. Also, I'd like you to all pair off. Next week we will have oral presentations."

"On what?" asked Yvonne Stidder, one of the B-Listers at Waverly.

"On a French article, Mademoiselle Stidder," said Lamont. "It can be from anywhere: a magazine, a newspaper. You and your partner will research and present it to me. And it's worth ten percent of your grade. Look at me: practically giving away marks."

Callie rolled her eyes at this remark. Lamont never gave away marks. In fact, none of the teachers at Waverly made getting a good grade in their class easy. Callie herself had been getting an A-minus average, which caused her parents to ask her why she hadn't been getting an A or an A-plus in everything instead. Nothing seemed to ever be good enough for them, she'd come to realize. She didn't know what they were so worried about: she was a shoo-in for Howard, the school almost all of her family had gone to.

The Vernons were a very well established, well respected, African-American family in Georgia. So much so that when her businessman father, Carlton, got into politics, he won the Governorship hands down. Her mother, also from an established, African-American family, had taken her job as First Lady of Georgia quite seriously. Callie wouldn't be surprised if one day the Vernons found themselves in the White House.

"Well go find your partners," said Lamont, sitting down behind his solid, wooden desk.

"Jenny," said Callie, turning her body and crossing her legs. She flipped her hair over her slender shoulder and smiled. "Would you like to be my partner?"

"Of course," said Jenny good-naturedly, cupping her face with her hands as she leaned against her desk. "Sounds fun."

"Any ideas?" asked Callie, tilting her head to one side.

"Well, back at Constance, our French teacher knew that most of us were really into fashion," offered Jenny. "So she used to bring us back issues of Vogue Paris. Maybe we could use one of the articles from there."

"Interesting," said Callie, really just interested in spending time with Jenny.

Callie had never pegged herself for one of those people who would be starstruck once they met a celebrity. But there was something thrilling about meeting Jenny. Maybe it was because she'd always been somewhat jealous of the girls from Manhattan who were always featured on Gossip Girl, of which Jenny was one. She'd been to New York City before but she'd never actually met any of the people from Gossip Girl until Jenny, even though she'd forced her mom to take her to the places that they were always 'spotted'.

The bell rang and everybody started pushing out their chairs and chatting amongst themselves.

"We could get back issues in the library later this week," said Callie, picking up her tote from off the floor and placing it on her elbow. "I know they have there."

"Great," said Jenny. "Is the food here any good?"

"For the kind of money tuition is," said Callie, taking Jenny's hand, "it totally is. You should come sit with the rest of us."

Callie led Jenny through the corridor and out into the courtyard. The cafeteria was a good three minute walk away but Callie didn't bother to chat Jenny up too much. Jenny had easily become the most popular girl at Waverly from the moment her homeroom teacher, Mrs. Horniman, introduced her to the class. Everybody in Callie's homeroom got text messages that Jenny Humphrey—the Jenny Humphrey—had transferred to Waverly.

When they got into the cafeteria, a hush fell across the room: everyone was staring at them. Callie had grown pretty much accustomed to it since it had been that way since she'd become friends with Tinsley Carmichael, who had arguably been the most popular girl in Waverly Prep history, on their first day as freshmen.

Things had changed now that Tinsley had been expelled.

"Hey, baby," said Callie's hotter-than-life boyfriend, Easy, who was talking with Alan St. Girard. Alan was sitting down on the bench, dutifully looking up at his guru, Easy. Easy was sitting down on top of their usual table, his feet on the bench, and he ran his fingers through his perfectly messy, red hair. Callie fell into his arms and inhaled his adorable Chanel Bleu, a gift she had gotten him over the summer.

Callie's other friends, Benny Cunningham and Sage Francis, two girls who were always trying to be just like Tinsley, Callie and Brett, were huddled on the other side of the table gossiping as usual.

"How was French?" he asked.

"Not bad. And German?"

"Dunderdorf is the nicest teacher here. Getting an A is going to be a piece of cake."

"Hey, Humphrey," said Heath, appearing from seemingly nowhere. He wrapped his arm around Jenny's waist in a very familiar way. "I was thinking that we should probably go somewhere else for lunch. Off campus, that is."

"Sure," said Jenny, her cheeks becoming noticeably pinker. "That'll be nice."

Callie kissed Jenny on both cheeks—a thing she'd picked up in Europe—and then waved them off. She'd have to warn Jenny about Heath soon enough.

"Hey, guys," said Brett, approaching their group with a bunch of books in her hands. She slammed them down on the table and then put her bag down too. "Are we going in the lunch line?"

"It's already handled," said Alan, tucking some of his too-long, golden hair behind an ear. Like the rest of the boys in their little clique, Alan was dressed in a very preppy L.L. Bean get up. "I sent some of the freshmen to get us lunch."

"Of course you did," said Brett, assuming a seat. "Hey, Callie." She looked over at Callie, who was still enveloped in Easy's arms. "Since when have you two been so close?"

"Since we got together over the summer, Brett," said Callie. "God. Do you have to be so crass about it?"

"Crass? You two are dating?"

"Yes!" yelped Callie.

"I'm sorry," said Brett, with a nonchalant shrug of the shoulders. "I didn't know. You didn't tell me anything. I tried texting you over the summer but I didn't get anything out of you so I didn't know what was going on."

"Yeah," said Callie. "I was busy." She kissed Easy on the lips.

"You guys have no shame," said Brandon, approaching their table. He tossed his backpack on the table and scowled at them both. "I can't believe you have the gall to show your face at our table after what you've done. You're disloyal, Walsh. And you, Callie…I don't even know what to call you."

"I think you called me a slut while we were in Barcelona," said Callie, putting a thinking expression on her face, her finger on her chin.

"Yeah," said Brandon. "I think I did. And I see you haven't changed your ways at all."

"Evidently not," said Callie, one eyebrow arched and her nostrils flaring.

She suddenly felt Easy getting up and slightly pushing her away from him. He took a seat on the bench next to Alan, his eyes averted, unable to look Brandon in the eye anymore.

"Have any of you guys seen Heath?" asked Brandon.

"He took Jenny off campus to get lunch," responded Alan. "I guess we'll see him in an hour."

"I see," said Brandon, in a small voice. He turned away and started heading towards the lunch line.

"Bran, wait," said Easy. "We already ordered your lunch. The freshmen are getting it."

"Thanks, but no thanks," said Brandon, continuing to walk away.

After a moment of silence, Brett suddenly said, "What the hell happened this summer?"

"Shut up, Brett," said Callie, rolling her eyes. "If you must know, Brandon and I broke up over the summer and Easy and I got together."

That wasn't the total truth. In reality, she, Brandon and Easy had been in Barcelona. Brandon had gotten food poisoning and couldn't go clubbing but he'd encouraged them to go without him. One drink had led to another and then they'd found themselves making out in the club. When they'd gotten back to the hotel, Callie found herself following Easy to his room, where they'd proceeded to make love. She never went back to the room she had been sharing with Brandon until morning.

When she went to her room, Brandon had been fast asleep and she woke him up and told him about everything that had happened between her and his best friend. Naturally, he hadn't taken it very well, and immediately made plans to take the next flight out of Spain. Callie and Easy spent their last blissful week of their summer trip to Europe together in Prague before she had to go to Georgia and he had to go to Rhode Island, to spend the last weeks of the summer with their respective families.

"I really should have gone with you guys on that trip, shouldn't I?" whispered Brett. "Seems like I missed a lot."

"Tinsley couldn't come either," mumbled Callie.

"Well…yeah. Makes sense," said Brett, nodding her head. "Anyway, congratulations, I guess."

"Thanks," said Callie and Easy in unison.

"But it seems like you guys really hurt Brandon," said Brett. "Did he give you his blessing?"

"Whatever, Brett," said Callie, sitting down on Easy's lap. "We don't need his blessing. This is true love."

Brett didn't look convinced but she still said, "I suppose it is."

"Hey, has anybody heard from Tinsley all summer?" asked Benny, in her little voice. "I certainly haven't."

"Me either," said Callie. "I don't even know where she's going now. I mean, getting expelled from Waverly is a big thing. I'm not sure if any respectable school is going to have her now."

"Picture this," said Alan. "Tinsley Carmichael at a public school."

They all laughed: it was unbelievable.