Bridgeport Academy #2 Page 3

  Bree took the ball of bedding off the cot and started pulling her fitted sheet around the small, flimsy cot mattress. It fit like saggy granny underwear.

  The sound of a band of freshmen singing “Trap Queen” at the top of their lungs drifted through the open window. Naomi was still staring absentmindedly at the Hudson. Bree walked over and sat down on Naomi’s unmade bed. Neither Naomi nor Crystal made their beds, but Bree wasn’t comfortable enough to leave her sheets and blanket in a tangle like they did. That would be like letting them see her bra, and it was definitely too soon for that. She was still changing in the bathroom.

  “You okay?” Bree asked, not wanting to disturb her, but also not wanting to be the kind of roommate who didn’t ask if everything was okay, when something was so clearly not okay. “Coach said you were sick.”

  Naomi turned her head toward Bree. “Something like that.”

  There was a reason she felt quesy: Eric. Sure, he was technically a teacher, but he wasn’t her teacher. When he took her home to Lindisfarne, his family estate in Newport, Rhode Island, last week and they sat on the porch of the guesthouse, it didn’t take more than a sip of vintage wine that was older than she was before she blurted out the truth about her family. And Eric Dalton—a Bridgeport legacy, heir to a real American dynasty, with his gorgeous, classy Newport house and gorgeous, classy blue-blood New England family—made her feel intriguing and sexy in spite of her classless upbringing.

  Naomi tucked her fiery hair behind her ears. Bree was so sweet, sitting there at the edge of her bed, as if she were afraid of disturbing it. It was no wonder everyone was talking about how Zane Taylor was in love with her. Naomi didn’t know if it was true, but she could definitely see how it could happen.

  Naomi flopped down on her bed next to Bree, their knees bumping. “You have to swear you won’t tell anyone, okay?” She had only known Bree for a week now, but Naomi had been feeling friendless this year, with Jade away and Crystal acting like a complete ice queen. And now Jade and Crystal seemed like they were back to being BFF and were probably plotting to ruin her life. Besides, Bree already knew about Eric since she’d seen Naomi sneaking back into the room in the middle of the night last week.

  “I promise.” Bree drew a cross over her heart.

  “Good, because you know how it is when you like someone so much, you just can’t stop thinking about them, and all you want to do is talk about them?” Naomi bit the corner of her lip. There was probably at least a little truth to the rumors about Bree and Zane. Bree had to understand.

  “Yeah,” Bree said quietly. “I do.” Bree remembered gazing at the stars with Zane at Maurice’s party when he told her he wanted to be in love like in those diamond commercials. He’d been embarrassed about saying it, but Bree had known just what he meant. He’d said he didn’t have that now—meaning he didn’t have it with Crystal—but that he wanted it. She wondered if maybe he wanted it with her.

  “Well, you know about this...thing...going on with...” Naomi peered closely at Bree. “You know.” Bree nodded, so Naomi kept going. “But the thing is, he’s not returning my texts or calls.”

  “How long has it been since you guys talked?”

  Naomi pretended to have to think about it, but she knew exactly how long it had been. “Two days. I’ve called him twice.” Eleven times, actually, but she didn’t want Bree to think she was obsessive.

  Outside, the same girls who had been singing “Trap Queen” started loudly elaborating on which Bridgeport boys were the cutest. “Zane Taylor is so fine!” wafted up to the room, and Bree’s face immediately flushed.

  Naomi smiled. It looked like Bree definitely had a secret of her own.

  CelineColista: Hey, I couldn’t finish my paper on Herodotus. U think Dalton will give me an extension?

  NaomiPeterson: How would I know? I’m not in your class.

  CelineColista: Well u guys are friends, right? Maybe you could put in a good word for me?

  NaomiPeterson: I work with him on DC…so do you.

  CelineColista: But don’t you have, like, private meetings?

  NaomiPeterson: DC business only.

  CelineColista: That’s too bad. I mean, for my extension.

  5

  “How good did Jade look? Like, Lisa Raye in The Players Club good?” Ryan Reynolds asked pleadingly. “What was she wearing? Why have I not seen her yet?”

  Amir Phillips set his sleek black squash bag down on the worn yet polished hardwood floor of the Richards common room. Even draped with teenage boys, the room felt like an old English hunting lodge, with its dark mahogany moldings, forest green walls, and bookshelves filled with leather-bound volumes of classics no one had ever heard of. It kind of made Amir wish he had one of his father’s pipes.

  He rolled his eyes at Julian McCafferty, the tall, long-haired freshman from Seattle who had just come from squash practice with him. Amir had beaten him, of course, but it was a little too close for him to feel comfortable. Normally, that would have been enough to make Amir avoid him, but Julian was surprisingly cool. Girls were going to like him too, Amir thought a little jealously, once he cut his caveman hair.

  “Who’s Jade?” Julian asked in a mock whisper. As always, the room was crowded with zoned-out boys, exhausted from sports practice and readusting to school life after their relaxing summers at their country and beach houses. ESPN flashed from the cabinet television in the corner, the sound muted, Amir assumed, so that they could all gossip about Jade. They were worse than girls.

  Everyone chuckled at Julian’s ignorance. “Bro, clearly you’re a freshman,” said Donovan St. Girard, the crunchy junior whose parents both taught philosophy at expensive East Coast liberal arts colleges and reportedly owned a marijuana plantation in New Hampshire. He had bushy hair and perpetual beard scruff, which the girls found endearing but Amir thought disgusting. Fucking shave, dude. “She’s only the sexiest girl on the planet.”

  “Isn’t there something in the handbook about her?” asked Teague Williams, his post-soccer practice body dripping sweat on one of the expensive leather armchairs. “Like, ‘Male Bridgeport Owls, beware this girl. She will tease you and torture you and haunt your dreams with her luscious presence all four years at Bridgeport and for the rest of your life on earth.’”

  “I can’t wait to meet her.” Julian dropped his maroon Nike squash bag onto the floor and pulled his long, wild hair into a ponytail, using the rubber band he kept on his wrist to secure it. Amir shuddered with distaste. “What’s she look like?”

  The guys gave a collective sigh, and Amir sank into one of the ancient armchairs. Jade was fine, but these guys were ridiculous. She was nowhere near as beautiful as Crystal, who Amir had dated all of freshman year before Zane fucking Taylor stole her from him. They’d been at a party in the library, and when he’d gone to go get Crystal a drink, like the gentleman that he was, Zane had swooped in and dragged her up to the rare books room and put some kind of southern cowboy spell on her. And now there were all kinds of rumors that he was leaving Crystal for Bree Hargrove, the cute new girl who Amir had thought could actually get him over Crystal. Fucking Taylor. He shot an angry look at Zane’s sprawled-out, horsey-smelling body on the scratchy plaid couch.

  “Don’t get your hopes up, kid,” said Ryan as he made room on the couch for Julian to sit. “Jade doesn’t even talk to freshmen.”

  “Now that she’s back, I have a feeling this year just got a whole lot more interesting,” drawled Zane without looking up from the sketchbook on his lap. Amir fought the urge to roll his eyes. Was there a girl on campus that Zane was not into? First Crystal, then Bree, now Jade? There were rumors he and Jade had hooked up at her parents’ house in Alaska spring break freshman year, but Zane had never confirmed the story, not that Amir even cared.

  “Hell, yeah!” Everyone turned to see Maurice Johnson standing in the doorway with a wicked grin on his handsome face. “I was just talking to my cousin who graduated from he
re, like, five years ago, and he told me something fucking awesome. He said that if you walk to the other side of the crater, it gets all swampy and shit, and guess what’s growing there?” Maurice looked at everyone expectantly, as though anything he was saying made sense. “Shrooms, dudes!” he yelled. “I thought we’d head over to the woods and enjoy some natural highs, Alice in Wonderland style. It has been a long week,” he added, even though it was only Tuesday. “So who’s in?” Maurice snapped his fingers impatiently.

  Ryan and Donovan immediately bumped fists with him. “We’re in.”

  Amir groaned and ran his hands through his freshly showered and gelled hair. “It’s fucking Tuesday. I’ve got five chapters of Hamlet to read for tomorrow.”

  “Oh, poor Amir!” Maurice snickered in the falsetto he reserved for making fun of his roommate’s girly attributes. “Not five chapters!”

  “Fuck off, Johnson. Not everyone’s daddies can buy them A’s.”

  “If freshmen aren’t banned, I’d love to partake,” Julian’s deep baritone boomed as he stood up. It was so unfair for a freshman to be so fucking tall and manly. When Amir was a freshman, he was barely five-foot two and his voice sounded like a girl’s.

  Zane dropped his sketchbook to the floor and uncrossed his legs. “Why not?”

  Amir sighed under his breath. Although he wanted to spend as little time as possible around the loathsome Taylor, he wasn’t about to let Zane and some newcomer freshman make him look like a pussy. “Fine. Let’s get out of here,” he relented. Shakespeare was meant to be skimmed anyway.

  Zane and Donovan tossed a Frisbee back and forth, reminding Amir of a couple of sloppy golden retrievers, as the group crossed campus to the patch of woods separating the brick buildings from the river. Preppy boys and girls with backpacks and cable-knit sweaters hustled off to the library for a few hours of cramming before curfew, and Amir wished he could just sit with Crystal again on the library steps like they used to, talking and flirting and making out when no one was looking. Instead, he was going hunting for shrooms with a bunch of jackass guys, one of whom had actually stolen the girl he loved from him and was possibly now on the verge of breaking her heart.

  Amir’s calfskin Gucci loafers padded down the path through the woods until Maurice and Zane stepped off the stone path and into the brush. Amir tried not to ruin his shoes as they picked their way through the tall weeds and low branches. The woods opened briefly onto a small clearing filled with large rocks that students had been using as a secret party spot for decades—the crater. The sky above was darkening, but it wasn’t yet cold.

  “He said to look for the biggest rock along the edge and then walk into the woods until it gets soppy.” Maurice identified the biggest rock and motioned to them like he was flagging in a plane on the runway.

  Amir frowned at his shoes. The parade of boys crunched the sticks and leaves underfoot, and then suddenly the earth got spongy and damp. “Fuck,” Amir muttered under his breath.

  “Behold!” Maurice crouched at the base of a tree. “Mushrooms!”

  Everyone started to pick them, gathering the dirty caps in their hands. Amir would have expected them to look a little more exotic. These looked so innocent and, well, culinary, as if they belonged in some kind of stir-fry his family’s cook, Greta, might throw together.

  “Hate to break it to you, Johnson.” Ryan nibbled on one of the caps and then sniffed it as though he was a mushroom specialist, which, given the rumors about his parents, was possible. “But these aren’t the real thing.”

  “Shit, man,” Maurice muttered. “Well, should we chill at the crater or head back?”

  Disappointed votes to chill were murmured, and a few minutes later Amir felt the cold wetness of the grass soaking through his Dolce & Gabbana jeans as the rest of the guys revisited the topic of Jade’s sexiness. Amir closed his eyes and let the sound of the crickets drown out the boys’ voices. He really wasn’t interested in thinking about Jade. He loved Crystal. She’d dumped him for Zane over a year ago, so they’d been broken up for longer than they’d been together, but still Amir couldn’t get her off his mind. And she wasn’t helping much—last week he’d bumped into her after one of the girls-only welcome-back parties and she’d drunkenly asked him to sleep with her. He’d just wanted to hold her and talk to her until the alcohol wore off. He would have sat up with her all night, but he wasn’t about to take advantage of her when she was clearly an emotional wreck about whatever was going on with that slimeball Zane. Sleazy Zane.

  “The stars are coming out. Chicks love stars,” Maurice remarked. “You know who I’d take here?”

  “Jade,” a few of the guys said in unison.

  “Good luck with that,” Zane drawled. He was lying on the grass, staring at the sky. Crystal had named a star for him once through some cheesy Web site, but looking at the sky right now, he couldn’t imagine looking for his star with Crystal. The only girl he wanted to look at stars with was Bree. If only she were here right now.

  “We should head back,” Amir interrupted Zane’s thoughts, and the boys stumbled awkwardly to their feet, still talking about Jade and what it would be like to be with her. Zane had been with her, before Crystal, when a bunch of them went up to Alaska for spring break. They’d stayed up all night, naked in the hot tub, mostly just talking and looking at the stars. Jade was gorgeous, but Zane was pretty sure that the thing that made guys obsess over her was the same thing that made him happy to stay away. She was kind of...wicked.

  Then, as they stepped back onto the manicured green of the main campus, Zane saw Jade herself marching toward them across the grass. He watched her approach, wearing a strapless turquoise minidress and black cloth Mary Janes like the kind you buy in tacky Chinese gift shops. Leave it to Jade to pair a dress like that with five-dollar shoes.

  “Don’t you all look suspicious, coming out of the woods like 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,” Zane replied mysteriously. His black curls hung sloppily in his face, embedded with crushed leaves. “You wouldn’t understand.”

  Jade smacked his stomach with the back of her hand. “Oh, yeah? What do you do? Smoke weed and talk about girls?” Her violet eyes gleamed. Jade could always sniff out a secret. “Can I come next time?”

  “Sorry, lady.” Zane grinned, speaking for all of them. “Gentlemen only.”

  “Well, that’s stupid,” Jade 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

  Naomi’s black iPhone vibrated noisily against the wooden dresser as both she and Bree raised their eyes from their Norton anthologies and stared at each other. Naomi’s almond-shaped, 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 Bree giggled and pulled her 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 Bree gestured toward the door and mouthed, “Should I go?”

  Naomi 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?” Naomi responded finally, looking down at her pink silky camisole and favorite pair of super-soft black 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?”

  Naomi hung up quickly and immediately started tugg
ing off her pants. “I knew he’d call,” she squealed, pulling a pair of dark 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. Naomi stared at herself in the mirror. Her chocolate face was clean of makeup since she had already performed her nightly pore-cleansing ritual. She spread a layer of clear lip gloss 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 blazer. “Do I look all right?”

  Bree didn’t know what to say. “Uh, you’re going out? Now?”

  “No one will know. Don’t mention where I am to Crystal and Jade, okay?”

  Naomi looked beautiful—clean and sweet and delicate—but Bree still wasn’t so sure how she felt about her with Mr. Dalton. She knew Naomi 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, Naomi seemed to positively glow. Who was Bree to be the unwelcome voice of reason when Naomi was clearly happier than she’d been all week?

  “Sure, I’ll make something up,” Bree said, standing up to brush a fleck of lint off Naomi’s shoulder. “You look really pretty.”

  Naomi 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 Bridgeport’s front gate. The driver didn’t say anything to her, and Naomi suddenly felt like the mistress of some wealthy banker dude, being summoned while his bitchy wife was away at the spa.

  After passing through the sleepy main street of the tiny town of Rhinecliff, the car turned toward the river and drove along a thickly wooded road. Lights from large, tasteful homes glinted through the trees. Then, right when it looked like they were about to drive into the slow-moving Hudson, the car turned suddenly down a long driveway. Branches swept lightly against the windows and sides of the car. Completely private, Naomi noted.