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this,” she observed provocatively. “What were you
doing
in there?” she continued when the boys were close enough to smell her sweet and musky perfume.
    “Secret society meeting,” Easy replied mysteriously. His almost-black curls hung sloppily in his face, embedded with crushed leaves. “You wouldn’t understand.”
    Tinsley smacked his stomach with the back of her hand. “Oh, yeah? What do you do? Smoke pot and talk about girls?” Her violet eyes gleamed. Tinsley could always sniff out a secret. “Can I come next time?”
    “Sorry, lady.” Easy grinned, speaking for all of them. “Gentlemen only.”
    “Well, that’s
stupid
,” Tinsley pronounced, her lips forming a pink pout. “I guess I’ll have to start my own secret society, then.” She stuck out her tongue before turning away, a master at leaving her audience gasping for more.

6
A WAVERLY OWL MUST OBEY CURFEW , BUT THAT DOESN’T MEAN YOU CAN’T STAY UP ALL NIGHT .
    Brett’s silver Nokia vibrated noisily against the wooden dresser as both she and Jenny raised their eyes from their Norton anthologies and stared at each other. Brett’s bright-green, cat-like eyes gleamed triumphantly as she dashed over to the phone and read the caller ID. “Finally!” she yelped before taking a deep breath and attempting to remove all excitement from her voice. “Yes,” she answered coolly as Jenny giggled and pulled her Nick and Nora flannel cherry-print pajama-clad knees to her chest.
    “Can you meet me at my place in Rhinecliff? I have to see you.” Eric’s deep voice immediately erased any worry she’d been feeling, as if he had just tucked aside her hair and spoken softly, breathily into her ear. She felt her face heat up, and Jenny gestured toward the door and mouthed, “Should I go?”
    Brett shook her head before turning toward the window and looking out at the darkening evening. It was nine-fifteen. Less than an hour to curfew.
    “How will I get there?” Brett responded finally, looking down at her pale pink silky La Perla camisole and favorite pair of super-soft black C&C California yoga pants that she wore on days she was feeling fat or depressed.
    “I’ll send a car for you. Be at the front gate in twenty minutes, okay?”
    Brett hung up quickly and immediately started tugging off her pants. “I knew he’d call,” she squealed, pulling a pair of dark James jeans out of the depths of her closet. She kept on her camisole since she was wearing the matching underwear and she automatically felt much sexier when wearing a complete set. Brett stared at herself in the mirror. Her face was clean of makeup since she had already performed her nightly pore-cleansing ritual. She spread a layer of DuWop lip venom across her naked lips, enjoying the way it tingled. Then she stepped into a pair of pink Marc Jacobs ballet flats and pulled on a romantic-looking brown velveteen blazer from Anthropologie. “Do I look all right?”
    Jenny didn’t know what to say. “Uh, you’re going out?
Now?
”
    “No one will know. Don’t mention where I am to Callie and Tinsley, okay?”
    Brett looked beautiful—clean and sweet and delicate—but Jenny still wasn’t so sure how she felt about her with Mr. Dalton. She knew Brett was way worldlier than she was, but there was something kind of skeezy about it all. Yet standing in front of the mirror, adjusting her red hair behind her ears, Brett seemed to positively glow. Who was Jenny to be the unwelcome voice of reason when Brett was clearly happier than she’d been all week?
    “Sure, I’ll make something up,” Jenny said, standing up to brush a fleck of lint off Brett’s shoulder. “You look really pretty.”
    Brett twirled out of the room in a cloud of romantic exhilaration, but a knot of nerves settled in her stomach as she slipped into the black Town Car that was waiting for her outside Waverly’s front gate. The driver didn’t say anything to her, and Brett suddenly felt like the mistress of some