but nowhere did she see anything resembling the pin-thin bodies plastered in all the magazines. She certainly wasn’t anorexic or anything—she’d just scarfed down three pieces of gooey Ritoli’s pizza and half a bottle of champagne.
“Is my mother concerned that her daughter has an eating disorder or that people
think
her daughter has an eating disorder? If she’s actually concerned about
me
, tell her that next time she can call herself.”
She was about to hang up when he said, “Just try to eat something every once in a while, okay?”
“Eat this!” she screamed before hanging up. Then Brett walked through the door, looking like she’d witnessed a car crash. She’d gone outside with her cell phone when Nicholson called.
Callie pulled on her red satin pajama bottoms. “What’s the matter, sweetheart?” Her voice immediately softened, and she was surprised at how the word “sweetheart” came out of her mouth so effortlessly. In her post-Easy existence, she must be transferring her thwarted affections onto her friends.
“Eric just IMd me,” Brett blurted, her voice full of disbelief. Her normally pale face was a ghostly white. “He … he doesn’t think we should see each other anymore.”
“What?” Callie grew cold.
Shit
. This sounded like Tinsley’s doing. Had she really made a move on Mr. Dalton?
Already?
“Did he say why?”
“He said it wasn’t ‘smart.’” Brett shook her head slightly. “But two days ago he didn’t care if it was smart or not when we were practically naked in his bed.”
“Did something change that made him realize how much trouble he could get in?” Callie asked dubiously. “Maybe he bumped into Marymount and freaked?”
“Maybe.” Brett bit her lip and looked like she was about to cry. “But I don’t know. He didn’t say anything about Marymount.”
Callie wondered if Brett had any suspicions that this had something to do with Tinsley returning, but of course Callie wasn’t about to say anything. God, why was everything a fucking secret this year? “Well, it was just an IM, right? How much could he say?”
Brett stared at Callie blankly. “But I felt … so close to him. We almost did … it.” At this, Brett’s knees seemed to collapse under her and she fell dramatically onto her bed. “And then I just told him that I wanted to finally do it for real. And he just wrote back, saying it was over. It makes me feel so … sick and … stupid. Like I was some silly kid and he lost his patience with me.”
“So fuck him. He’s a jerk anyway,” Callie gushed vehemently. Of course she desperately wanted to cheer Brett up, but she also felt a tiny bit relieved not to be the only dumped girl in Dumbarton 303.
“Who’s a jerk?” Tinsley demanded, standing in the open door with her BlackBerry sticking out of the kangaroo pocket of her cutoff sweatshirt.
No one answered right away, and just as it was about to become awkward, Callie lamely filled in with, “Nicholson, my mom’s publicist.” If Brett and Tinsley didn’t settle their issues soon, she was going to flip out. “Fuck him, telling me I’m too skinny.”
Tinsley smiled indulgently. She’d go ahead and pretend she believed that’s what they were talking about if Brett found it so impossible to speak when she was in the room. Fine. Tinsley was tired of giving Brett space for her moods—she could go right ahead and kiss her ass. “You are awfully thin, Cal. Your clothes have been looking kind of baggy.” Which was true.
Callie rolled her eyes and shot Brett a thanks-for-nothing glare when Tinsley was hanging up her towel, but Brett was lying on her bed with her taxi-yellow Kate Spade rubber rain loafers still on, a single yellow leaf stuck to the bottom of one, staring straight at the ceiling, clearly in her own depressed world. Callie wondered what could distract her and immediately thought of Café Society.
“Where’s the fourth Musketeer?” Tinsley pointed at Jenny’s
“Is my mother concerned that her daughter has an eating disorder or that people
think
her daughter has an eating disorder? If she’s actually concerned about
me
, tell her that next time she can call herself.”
She was about to hang up when he said, “Just try to eat something every once in a while, okay?”
“Eat this!” she screamed before hanging up. Then Brett walked through the door, looking like she’d witnessed a car crash. She’d gone outside with her cell phone when Nicholson called.
Callie pulled on her red satin pajama bottoms. “What’s the matter, sweetheart?” Her voice immediately softened, and she was surprised at how the word “sweetheart” came out of her mouth so effortlessly. In her post-Easy existence, she must be transferring her thwarted affections onto her friends.
“Eric just IMd me,” Brett blurted, her voice full of disbelief. Her normally pale face was a ghostly white. “He … he doesn’t think we should see each other anymore.”
“What?” Callie grew cold.
Shit
. This sounded like Tinsley’s doing. Had she really made a move on Mr. Dalton?
Already?
“Did he say why?”
“He said it wasn’t ‘smart.’” Brett shook her head slightly. “But two days ago he didn’t care if it was smart or not when we were practically naked in his bed.”
“Did something change that made him realize how much trouble he could get in?” Callie asked dubiously. “Maybe he bumped into Marymount and freaked?”
“Maybe.” Brett bit her lip and looked like she was about to cry. “But I don’t know. He didn’t say anything about Marymount.”
Callie wondered if Brett had any suspicions that this had something to do with Tinsley returning, but of course Callie wasn’t about to say anything. God, why was everything a fucking secret this year? “Well, it was just an IM, right? How much could he say?”
Brett stared at Callie blankly. “But I felt … so close to him. We almost did … it.” At this, Brett’s knees seemed to collapse under her and she fell dramatically onto her bed. “And then I just told him that I wanted to finally do it for real. And he just wrote back, saying it was over. It makes me feel so … sick and … stupid. Like I was some silly kid and he lost his patience with me.”
“So fuck him. He’s a jerk anyway,” Callie gushed vehemently. Of course she desperately wanted to cheer Brett up, but she also felt a tiny bit relieved not to be the only dumped girl in Dumbarton 303.
“Who’s a jerk?” Tinsley demanded, standing in the open door with her BlackBerry sticking out of the kangaroo pocket of her cutoff sweatshirt.
No one answered right away, and just as it was about to become awkward, Callie lamely filled in with, “Nicholson, my mom’s publicist.” If Brett and Tinsley didn’t settle their issues soon, she was going to flip out. “Fuck him, telling me I’m too skinny.”
Tinsley smiled indulgently. She’d go ahead and pretend she believed that’s what they were talking about if Brett found it so impossible to speak when she was in the room. Fine. Tinsley was tired of giving Brett space for her moods—she could go right ahead and kiss her ass. “You are awfully thin, Cal. Your clothes have been looking kind of baggy.” Which was true.
Callie rolled her eyes and shot Brett a thanks-for-nothing glare when Tinsley was hanging up her towel, but Brett was lying on her bed with her taxi-yellow Kate Spade rubber rain loafers still on, a single yellow leaf stuck to the bottom of one, staring straight at the ceiling, clearly in her own depressed world. Callie wondered what could distract her and immediately thought of Café Society.
“Where’s the fourth Musketeer?” Tinsley pointed at Jenny’s
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