“Babe,” he murmured aggressively. “It seems like a million yee-ahs since I saw you. I feel like we’re so fah from each other.”
Ugh. “Well, that’s silly,” Naomi blushed, taking his hand. “I just talked to you yesterday.”
“You okay?” Corey squeezed her. “You seem really...I don’t know. Nervous.”
“Oh, no.” Naomi tried to smile. “I’m just giddy.”
Yeah, she was giddy. But not about Corey. About her mind-blowing, absolutely magical lunch with Mr. Dalton. Before she left his office, he’d touched her shoulder and invited her to go to dinner sometime. His nervous, twitching lips when he’d asked, his shining eyes when she’d said yes. Dinner, dinner, dinner with Eric! And they were going tonight!
“We’re going to the gazebo, right?”
Naomi snapped back to attention. “Yeah,” she squeaked. The old white gazebo was nestled into some weeping willow trees and sat right on the bank of the Hudson. It was a famed Bridgeport hook up spot—in fact, it was so popular that last spring the students had passed around a gazebo sign-out sheet so nobody would interrupt another couple’s business. It had a worn-in, comfy swinging bench for two. There was a cutout hole at the top of the gazebo, so at night, you could look up at the stars. “But we can’t stay too long, 'cause I have to get ready for dinner in a little.”
“That’s cool.”
They walked along the stone path, hand in hand, acres of green lawn and ancient redbrick buildings with bright white trim on either side of them. The sky was getting cloudy, and Naomi wasn’t sure if it was the humidity or her nerves, but she was definitely sweating a little. Corey suddenly stopped and grabbed her by both hands. Students were walking around campus, heading to the dorms for visiting hours before dinner, all checking out Naomi and her tall, cute boyfriend.
“I really missed you.” He kissed her forehead. “I wish our schools were closer, you know?”
“They’re only about ten miles away from each other,” Naomi sputtered, looking around frantically. They were standing right in the middle of the green, in plain view of Stansfield Hall. If Eric looked out his office window right then, he would see them. “It’s really not that far.”
“Well, that seems to far to me.”
“Let’s go to the gazebo.” She grabbed his arm quickly. “We can talk there.”
“Okay.” Corey put his big, snuggly arm around her. “So, how is it here? You got any freaky new teachers?”
“Um...”
“I heard you guys got somebody new. That really rich dude?”
“I don’t know...” Naomi sort of figured all teachers were either really rich and didn’t need high-paying jobs or else really poor and desperate.
“Eric Dalton. Have you met him?”
Her heart froze. She glanced at Corey’s face. Was he on to her?
“Uh...”
“You’d know him if you met him. He’s a Dalton.”
“What do you mean, he’s a Dalton?”
Corey looked at her like worms were growing out of her nose. “Is this just a Massachusetts thing? You know. A Dalton. His grandfather was Reginald Dalton. There’s...there’s like, a giant complex named after him in Boston? The one that always has the big Christmas tree?”
At the Petersons’ house in Rumson, there was a picture of four-year-old Naomi, wearing a red velvet dress, holding a stuffed Chihuahua, and standing under the Dalton Christmas tree. Duh! My grandfather was into railroads. My family has a place in Newport. Eric’s words came back to her. She’d never even considered that he was a Dalton Dalton.
Naomi had watched specials about them on TV, from historical biopics on PBS to scandalous they’re-worse-than-the-Kennedys tell-alls on E! She’d learned that the grandfather, Reginald Dalton, was an heir to a railroad fortune. His family owned Lindisfarne, the largest mansion in Newport, and had for a hundred years. The father, Morris Dalton, owned an international publishing company that made gazillions of dollars and published only the classiest books and magazines. And yes, she knew there was a son, but he was press-shy and didn’t like to be in the spotlight. Naomi had assumed he was either ugly or a social misfit or both and that the family’s PR secretary wanted to keep him private. How wrong she’d been!
“I think they might’ve introduced him at chapel,” she finally mumbled to Corey.
“Oh. Well, at least Black Saturday’s coming up,” Corey changed the subject, breezing ahead. “That’ll be fun, huh? We’ve never really partied together, like, during school.”
“Yeah.” Naomi took her hand from his, feigning a need to scratch her arm.
“Hey, so close your eyes.” They approached the gazebo. Corey's lacrosse-calloused hand covered the top half of her face. “I have a surprise.”
He led her a few paces through the grass, breathing excitedly. With every step, Naomi felt a heavier and heavier sense of dread. What she really needed was for Corey to go away so she could sit down and think. Eric was Eric Dalton? For real?
“Okay, you can open 'em now.” Corey whisked his hand away from her face. Naomi gasped. In the middle of the white wooden gazebo was a huge bouquet of black tulips surrounded by heaps of burgundy rose petals. She’d never seen so many flowers in one place before. There must have been a hundred of them.
“I like the black ones,” she squeaked. Like? More like she was obsessed with them.
“You said that once when we passed that flower shop in Manhattan,” he beamed, bouncing up and down excitedly, like a little kid who’d just made his parents breakfast in bed.
“I...” Naomi started. This was the type of thing Crystal always secretly prayed for Zane to do for her, and he never did.
“And here.” Corey held out a white United Airlines envelope. Naomi opened it, and saw that it was a first-class round-trip ticket to San Francisco. She looked up at him questioningly.
“My dad is opening up a restaurant on Newbury Street in Boston, and he’s going to California on a tasting tour. He said I could bring you. He’ll totally leave us alone, though. It’s over Thanksgiving.”
Naomi opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Driving through California wine country sounded amazing, but Corey drank beer. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine them together at a winery. You were supposed to spit out the wine after you tasted it, but Corey was the kind if guy who would rather swallow it and get trashed. He was trying too hard. Way too hard. Plus Thanksgiving seemed so far away. What if...what if she was spending Thanksgiving with Eric?
Hello? They hadn’t even kissed yet. But she could still dream.
“This is great.” She forced a smile, gazing wondrously at the flowers again.
Corey wrapped his arms around her from behind and kissed her neck softly. “It was my way of telling you I missed you, baby.”
“Well, it’s definitely...something. I don’t know what to say.”
“How about thank you?” Corey’s voice sounded a little edgy all of a sudden, sort of like a scolding mother’s.
Naomi laughed nervously. “Okay. Thank you,” she replied, puckering her lips to give him a terse kiss on the cheek.
He turned his head and caught her kiss with his mouth. “You’re most definitely welcome.”
SageFrancis: So I just saw Naomi and her fine BF from St. Lucius walking toward the gazebo, but she looked. miserable. Benny told me she thinks Naomi likes someone else. Do u know who?
CrystalAlexander: Um...
SageFrancis: I heard she’s been doing some snuggling with a guy between classes.
CrystalAlexander: A guy from this school? Who?
SageFrancis: Dunno, but he might be older. Like a senior. That’s what Benny thinks.
CrystalAlexander: Huh.
SageFrancis: You didn’t know? Are you guys totally fighting or what?
CrystalAlexander: Kind of. I guess.
To: All New Students
From: [email protected]
Date: Thursday, September 5, 5:01 P.M.
Subj
ect: Welcome!
Dear New Students,
Welcome to Bridgeport! I hope your first day of classes went well today. You’re invited to an ice cream social for all freshman and transfer students on Friday evening after dinner. The sundae-making will commence at 8:00 P.M. This is a great opportunity to make new friends!
Remember, this is a mandatory event.
Don’t worry, I’ll bring the sprinkles!
Dean Marymount
20
Later that evening, before dinner, it began to pour. Bree snuggled under the light blue mohair throw her grandmother had knitted for her father when he was at college and read passages of Madame Bovary for English class. The new boy had kept in the background, in the corner behind the door, almost out of sight, chapter one began. Gloomy tears filled Bree’s eyes. She’s read the book last year at Emma Willard and knew it wasn’t even about this boy—it was about Emma Bovary, who only wanted to go to parties and sleep with guys who weren’t her husband—but still, she empathized with this new bumpkin boy who was being taunted by prep school kids. She wondered if the bumpkin had ever been wrongfully accused and made to choose between popularity and having a big black disciplinary X next to his name.
A key jingled in the door, and Crystal burst in, carrying a bunch of shopping bags. Bree quickly wiped her eyes on the scratchy wool of the throw, making them even redder than they already were.
“Surprise!” Crystal sang, pulling a vertical Louis Vuitton signature leather makeup tote out of one of the bags. “I got new nail polish and a whole bunch of makeup, too. Are you going to be around for a while?”
“Uh, yeah.” Bree paused, confused. Was Crystal talking to her because Naomi wasn’t here, or was this part of Crystal’s little suck-up fest? Bree had gotten another e-gift certificate from Crystal that afternoon—$50 to iTunes. It was beginning to feel like the twelve days of Blackmail Christmas.
“Cool.” Crystal stopped the CD player—Bree had been listening to a dreary Adele song—and put on Fetty Wap instead. “So, how was your first day of classes?”
“Um, good,” she responded mechanically, leaning back against the wall behind her bed.
“Look, I just want to thank you for saving my ass from public high school.” Crystal giggled, handing Bree a pint of Ben & Jerry’s, her favorite. How did she know?
“Well, I mean...” Bree trailed off. “I didn’t say anything, one way or another.”
“I know,” Crystal replied gaily. “And that’s okay. You didn’t have to say anything to Mr. Dalton. When did they say the DC hearing was, anyway?”
“Monday.”
Crystal opened her own pint of ice cream and dug into it with a plastic spoon. She cocked her head and studied Bree carefully. “You know, your hair looks really cute like that,” she finally said.
“Are you crazy?” Bree touched her head. It was raining, and her hair had exploded into a frizz ball. She’d tamed it into a ponytail, but curly wisps were sprouting out everywhere, dancing messily around her face.
“Yeah, I really like it. It’s like...deconstructed,” she said. “So, the meeting with Dalton was okay?”
Bree grunted. “I guess.”
Crystal tried to get a spoonful of ice cream out of the pint container, but the ice cream was too cold and the plastic spoon kept bending. “So do you think maybe you’ll cover for me in DC?”
“Maybe,” Bree said. “I’m not—”
“Of course you will,” Crystal interrupted. “And I need you to do me another favor. Well, it’s not a favor, really. It’ll be fun.”
Bree stared at her. Another favor? Wasn’t Crystal supposed to be kissing her ass? Sure, she hadn’t exactly given back the beauty basket or the iTunes gift certificate, but come on!
Crystal stabbed her spoon into the ice cream, finally making a dent. “This might sound a little strange, but I’m wondering if you’ll flirt with my boyfriend a little.”
Bree paused and sucked in her breath. “You mean...Zane?”
“Yeah. It’s just, for this to work, it needs to look believable that you guys like each other, you know?”
“You want me to...flirt?” Bree repeated.
“Yeah. Like, I don’t know. Hang out during dinner. Maybe between classes. Nothing big. Just so teachers can see you.”
Bree stared at her. She should feel pissed off—flirting with Zane would incriminate her more, wouldn’t it? But instead, her heart pounded feverishly.
“You don’t want to do it, do you?” Crystal’s shoulders slumped. “So he drank a little too much, but he’s really sweet once you get to know him.”
“I—”
A knock suddenly sounded on the door. “Helloooo?” Benny Cunningham cried, bounding into the room. “Am I interrupting?”
“We’re just having some, um, ice cream,” Crystal explained quietly. “I’d offer you some, but it’s still too cold.”
“Here’s the girl I want to see,” Benny exclaimed, pointing at Bree.
“Me?” Bree asked, pointing at herself.
“Yep.” Benny pushed up the sleeves of her cashmere sweater. “You’re playing varsity field hockey, right?”
“Yeah, I made the team today.” Bree still couldn’t believe she was going to play field hockey for Bridgeport. It was so surreal.
“Great!” Benny squealed. “We were wondering if you wanted to be part of our Black Saturday cheer. It’s usually for upperclassmen, but we pick some younger girls, too. You’re a sophomore, right?”
“Yeah.” Bree looked at Crystal. “Cheer?”
Crystal flinched. When Bree turned her back, Crystal mouthed to Benny, I said I didn’t want her.
Benny ignored her. “Yeah. It’s really fun. We make a new one up every year and torment St. Lucius with it. But it’s only a certain group of girls, you know?”
“Jeepers.” Bree’s face brightened. “That sounds really fun.”
“Jeepers?” Benny asked. “You didn’t honestly just say jeepers, did you?” She laughed, but Bree sensed it wasn’t actually friendly.
“Um, I mean, cool,” Bree corrected herself, embarrassed. Jeepers! How Old Bree could she get?
“Yeah?” Benny raised her eyebrows at Crystal. Crystal scowled back. “Awesome!”
“Are you doing the cheer too?” Bree asked Crystal.
“Actually, since she’s captain, Crystal writes the cheer,” Benny explained.
“Really?” Bree asked curiously. It occurred to her now that being on the field hokey team would be like being in a sorority. She had a whole new family of sisters. It was kind of cool.
Crystal swallowed hard. “I’m working on it.”
“Just get it done before Saturday,” Benny added. “Okay, so I have to get to the lit mag meeting. Just wanted to make sure Bree was in. Byeee!” She slammed the door shut.
Bree turned back to Crystal. “You guys do really fun stuff here.”
“Yeah,” Crystal answered quietly. “I wouldn’t take it too seriously, though, you know? It’s just a stupid cheer.”
Bree shrugged and licked a tiny bit of too-cold ice cream off her plastic spoon. Slut rumors aside, the cool varsity girls wanted her to do the cheer with them. How cool was that?
The door flew open again and Naomi strode in, her blue tweed cap soaking wet and her bob-length red hair matted around her face. As soon as she saw them, a peeved look settled over her perfectly chiseled face. “I thought you guys were both studying tonight.”
“Nope,” Crystal replied. “We’re having a makeover-ice cream party.”
“Oh.” Naomi threw her cap on the ground.
“Why are you all wet?” Crystal asked, sounding much bitchier than necessary.
Naomi took off her khaki thigh-length Burberry raincoat and tossed it on the floor. “Corey was here. We got stuck in the rain.”
“Corey?” Crystal straightened up, thinking about the text she’d received from Sage earlier. “Did you guys have the big talk?”
Naomi looked at her blankly.
“Big talk? We...whatever. We hung out.”
Crystal stared back, a half-smirk on her face. Come on. They were best friends. If Naomi liked some other guy, surely she’d tell Crystal about it. There were plenty of cute seniors at this school—Parker DuBois, for instance. Parker was half French, had large, piercing dark eyes, and was a photography apprentice, having spent the summer snapping shots of edgy, upcoming artists for the New York Times Sunday Fashion supplement. Crystal could totally see Naomi liking Parker. She waited, locking her hazel eyes with Naomi’s brown ones, until Naomi silently looked down.
“Who’s Corey?” Bree broke the silence.
“I guess Corey is Naomi’s boyfriend.” Crystal tried to catch Naomi’s eye again but couldn’t. She sighed. “He’s gorgeous and athletic and sweet and throws the best parties at St. Lucius.”
“Jeepers,” Bree couldn’t help exclaiming again, trying to hide her surprise. From the fawning way Naomi had been acting in the meeting this morning with Mr. Dalton in his office, Bree had just assumed she was single.
“Why didn’t you bring him over to the room?” Crystal asked. “Or did you guys just do it in the rain in the middle of the practice fields?”
Bree watched Crystal talk at Naomi. She was doing that thing some people do when they act nice and chipper and interested, while just below the surface they’re thinking really mean thoughts, and you can never call them on it because they’d just accuse you of being paranoid.
Naomi rolled her eyes. “No, we didn’t do it anywhere. Why would anyone want to do it in a field? Gross. Do you and Zane do it in a field? Did you and Amir do it in a field?” Naomi stormed over to her closet and hung up her coat.
“Whoa. Someone’s PMSing,” Crystal scoffed, examining her nails.
Bree was still thinking about how Naomi had flirted with Mr. Dalton when she heard Amir’s name. “Did she say Amir?” Bree asked Crystal. “Like, Amir Phillips?”
“Yeah. I went out with him for almost a year. He didn’t tell you that?”
BRIDGEPORT ACADEMY #1 Page 11
