Classic by Cecily von Ziegesar

saved,
Tinsley thought, adrenaline pumping through her. Brett covered her mouth to keep from laughing in sheer relief. They had
     to get out of there before they both lost it.
    They sneaked out of Isla’s room and then eased their way across the hardwood floors that seemed to creak and groan at top
     volume beneath them. Twice, they froze—convinced that Mrs. Dresden would hear them and demand to know who they were and what
     they were doing—but both times there was no sudden outcry from above.
    “When we get to the front door,” Tinsley whispered, “we have to open it and then run for our lives.”
    She took a deep breath and threw open the front door. The bright winter sun flooded inside, and the chilly wind howled in
     her face. They stepped outside and Tinsley eased the heavy door shut behind her.
    “Let’s go!” Brett hissed, and then they were running—exploding with pent-up energy from hiding, giddy and still one shout
     away from being busted.
    They skidded down the front walk and around the brick wall that contained the dean’s property and only stopped running when
     they made it to the main path of the quad. Tinsley gasped for breath and grabbed Brett’s arm. They slowed to a calculatedly
     casual stroll. They could be anyone. Walking anywhere.
    The mission hadn’t been accomplished, but it also hadn’t failed. And it certainly wasn’t over yet.

14
A WAVERLY OWL IS WILLING TO CONSIDER ANY
REASONABLE PLAN OF ACTION.
    C allie stood in the rare books room of the Sawyer Library, looking out over the campus. The sun reflected off the snow and
     made the bare branches of the trees on Hopkins Hill seem to glitter. But she couldn’t really appreciate the scenery.
    She crossed her arms over her chest and hugged her brown and melon-colored Milly turtleneck dress closer to her body. She
     tucked her chin inside the turtleneck, stretching it slightly, and let her waves of strawberry blond hair fall forward to
     spill over her shoulders. The more she thought about what Alan had said, the more she was positive that he was right.
    She hadn’t acted on his advice that night—she’d been too busy giggling and consuming her body weight in dry Cap’n Crunch cereal
     from the Maxwell dispenser. It had never tasted so good before, which was exactly why she didn’t like to getstoned very often. She ran her hands over her hips, making sure she hadn’t bloated up like an inflatable raft.
    Callie’s eyes scanned the deserted, cozy rare books room, but she didn’t see what was in front of her—she saw scenes from
     her past. Easy kissing her, right here, for the very first time back in sophomore year. Making out with Brandon just last
     month and getting caught by his Swedish girlfriend over the webcam. It just went on and on and on, and Callie had no idea
     how to end it. Or, worse, how to make a decision.
    Which was why Alan’s plan was so perfect.
She
wouldn’t have to make the decision at all. She could let Easy and Brandon figure it out. Whoever fought the hardest for her
     was the one she was supposed to be with. It was like that King Solomon story her mother, the governor of Georgia, brought
     up whenever she had to make decisions she knew would anger her constituents. In the story, the two mothers argued over a baby,
     each saying it was hers, until King Solomon declared he’d cut the baby in half. The
real
mother leaped forward to protect the child, relinquishing her claim, and in so doing proved that she was the true mother.
     That was more or less what Callie had to do. Sever herself from both guys—and see who proved himself to be the right one.
    Callie took a deep breath. She dug her Treo out from the depths of her red Jimmy Choo patent-leather hobo bag and stared at
     it for a moment. She would never normally break up with someone over e-mail, but this wasn’t normal, was it? Nothing about
     this was normal.
    And the truth was, she wasn’t entirely sure she could look into Easy’s dark blue