BRIDGEPORT ACADEMY #1

by Ashley Valentine

  “You’re really wasted.” Amir shook his head. “We shouldn’t do this...now.”

  “I’ll tell you a secret,” she whispered, leaning into him. “Zane and I had a big fight. I think we might be oooooover.”

  He paused for a long time. Again, he’d waited forever to hear those words. But no, not now. Not like this. Amir knew he was cheesy, but that was because he was a romantic. And fooling around with the girl he loved while she was shitfaced and on the rebound was totally fucking dumb. “That’s...whatever.” He pulled away from her.

  “Come on,” Crystal called. “Don’t you want to have sex with me?”

  “You’re drunk. You should sleep this off.”

  And just like that, he wiped his mouth off and walked away.

  BennyCunningham: Hey. Did u send her the cheer words yet?

  CrystalAlexander: Not yet.

  BennyCunningham:Well, do it!

  CrystalAlexander: I will. Hey, what cheer are the rest of us doing?

  BennyCunningham: I dunno. What about “Be Aggressive”?

  CrystalAlexander: K.

  BennyCunningham: Don’t forget to send her the cheer, unless you want nippleless bras!

  To:BriannaHargrove@bridgeport.edu

  From:CrystalAlexander@bridgeport.edu

  Date: Saturday, September 7, 10:05 A.M.

  Subject: Cheer

  Hey Bree,

  You missed a great party last night. How was your new students’ thing?

  Anyway, Benny asked me to send you the words of the cheer. It involves some dancing—sexy! And you sing it to the tune of “Sound Off.” I’m attaching a Word doc of the cheer lyrics here, and I’ll show you the movements in the room, K?

  —Crys

  P.S. Did the KissKiss! beauty basket arrive today? Enjoy!

  P.P.S. Any more thoughts about what you’re going to say at DC? Let me know!

  27

  Everyone was hanging out on the vast green hockey field, which was surrounded by thick woods. The sun was directly above them, and the sky was a flawless blue, with a tiny bit of bite in the air. Parents, students, and alumni crowded the bleachers. The St. Lucius girls paraded out to their side of the field. They were dressed in their purple and white sweaters and skirts, with matching purple shin guards. The St. Lucius mascot, a giant black and white goose, followed behind them, flapping its wings menacingly at the bespectacled Bridgeport owl.

  Naomi picked some stray grass off the bottom of one of her Nike cleats and snorted at how stupid the owl looked. An owl in glasses seemed like the nerdiest mascot ever.

  Bree sat next to her, tensely wrapping and unwrapping the duct tape around her hockey stick.

  “So how was that party last night?” Bree asked. “I heard you guys come in last night really late...”

  “That was Crystal, not me,” Naomi corrected her. “I tried to slide in without you noticing. You didn’t miss much, though. Except I lost my cell phone. Have you seen it?”

  “No.” Bree shrugged.

  Naomi gritted her teeth. Not having her cell phone—she was always losing it—meant she had no idea if Corey or Eric had called. She wondered if Corey was here in the crowd. She scanned the group of people across the field but didn’t see a tall boy with peanut butter skin anywhere. She wondered how he’d taken her message the other night.

  “So, I’m excited for the cheer.” Bree grinned. “It sounds like it’s going to be really fun.”

  Naomi abruptly turned to her. “You know it’s a setup, right?” Screw Crystal.

  “A setup?” Bree’s eyes widened.

  “Yeah, it’s this—” Naomi started, but just then Crystal came up behind them and laid her hand on Bree’s shoulder. Naomi turned away.

  “Hey, girl,” Crystal said sweetly to Bree. “You look so cute today. Is that my Stila lip gloss you’re wearing?”

  “Uh, no. It’s mine. It’s MAC.”

  “It’s so pretty.”

  Naomi noticed Crystal looked slightly green, probably from too much of that vile punch last night. Nice how she didn’t even say hi to her. She was too busy kissing Bree’s ass.

  Benny came up to the group. “We ready for the cheer?”

  “Yeah,” Crystal agreed. She looked nervously at Bree. Bree looked nervously at Naomi. Naomi shrugged. This was their shit to figure out.

  “Let’s go, then!” Benny squealed.

  All the girls on the bench jumped up and began to bounce on the balls of their feet. They’d asked Devin Rausch, a senior whose dad was a famous record producer, to play drums and DJ. Crystal gave him a nod. The needle crackled on an old Funkadelic record: he scratched it a few times, and then the backbeat wafted out of the speakers. The girls started to stomp their feet.

  “Be. Aggressive. B-E aggressive...”

  Naomi, who stood at the back of the gang, mouthed the words. This was so dumb. She glanced over at Bree, who launched into her part of the cheer.

  “St. Lucius girls think they’re all that, but no one wants a girl that flat!”

  Bree heard her solo screechy voice and immediately covered her mouth. Unfortunately, she was also at the portion of the dance where she had to stick out her chest. She looked over and noticed that no one else had thrust their boobs out.

  Her teammates snorted with laughter. Bree froze, boobs still thrust out. So this was the setup. Ha, ha. So not funny.

  Things began to move in slow motion: the laughing girls, stupid mean Maurice Johnson slapping his thigh in the front row, the entire school starting at her gigantic boobs. Then she realized something. She knew she could either feel like total shit and act like Old Bree, who, mortified, would sit back down on the bench and never speak to anybody ever again. Or she could try and turn this situation into something interesting. After all, this might be her last weekend at Bridgeport. So before she could stop herself, Bree strode up to the front of the team and started belting out the lyrics of the bogus cheer Crystal had e-mailed her in her loudest voice.

  “St. Lucius girls think they’re all that, but no one wants a girl that flat!” Bree started, shoving out her double-Ds again. “Bridgeport girls get all the boys! C’mon, people, make some noise!” She made a swishing motion with her hips.

  “Our eyebrows are waxed and yours are bushy; our butts are cute and yours are cushy!” Then she hit herself hard on her adorable little round butt. The other girls’ mouths dropped open. “Our mascot’s an owl and yours is a goose! We’ve got hooters and y’all are loose!” Again with the boob-thrusting.

  “So c’mon St. Lucius, throw in the towel. Your ass is gonna get kicked by an owl!” Then Bree, as she’d been instructed, ran crazily lengthwise down the field and did three cartwheels, as best she could, showing the crowd whatever they hadn’t already seen of her baby-blue boy shorts.

  A dazed silence followed. Even though the words were totally ridiculous, every single Bridgeport and St. Lucius boy—not to mention the fathers and male teachers—was gazing at her.

  Then, across the field, Tyrone Respers, one of Bridgeport’s star football players, started to clap. “Yeah!” he screamed. “Hell yeah!”

  Another boy clapped slowly. Someone whistled. Then the whole other side of the field erupted in applause. Everyone began to go nuts.

  Naomi stared at Bree, who was standing with her arms stretched out, staring dazedly at the crowd, a huge smile on her face. Bree had just twisted Crystal’s manipulation, something even Jade had never managed to pull off. Bree seemed so unafraid of people paying attention to her, and her curvy, tiny body looked great dancing. She had a good shouting voice, too–hoarse and kind of sexy.

  Bree looked at her adoring fans across the field. Wow, this was fun! Then she had a flash of inspiration.

  “There is a boy who they call Pony! He’s always acting gross and horny!” she yelled at the top of her lungs. “He thinks he’s got a lot down there, but he sure wears tiny underwear!”

  The Bridgeport bleachers went wild. A bunch of boys covered their mouths and
yelled a collective “Ohhhh!” in Maurice’s direction. Everyone was laughing. Bree looked at Maurice in the front row—his face was angry. Gotcha.

  “Let’s do it again!” Bree launched back into the cheer, hardly noticing the other girls. They were all party poopers. If they didn’t want to cheer with her, she didn’t care. She felt free and crazy.

  Naomi was dumbfounded. Suddenly, she grinned, and ran up to join Bree.

  “St. Lucius girls think they’re all that, but no one wants a girl that flat!” they screamed together. Bree smiled and bumped her butt against Naomi’s hip. At the end of the cheer, Naomi even did the skirt-lift. The boys across the field went crazy.

  Then Celine joined in, too. Then Alison, then Benny. Then the rest of the girls. And finally, because it would look weird if she were the only field hockey player not cheering, Crystal started shouting too.

  28

  Uplifted by their cheer, the Bridgeport Owls beat the St. Lucius Geese 6 to 3. As soon as the final period’s buzzer sounded, Naomi hustled to her dorm room. There, on her bed, was her cell phone. Had she left it on her bed all this time? On it were three unanswered calls—all from her sister—and one text message: I’m in port. Come by if you want. –ED.

  She quickly pulled on her most flattering pants and slinkiest silk top and zipped on her pointiest black patent leather boots. She sprinted down to the waterfront.

  Eric stood on the white sailboat’s small deck wearing khakis and a green long-sleeved polo. He was holding binoculars up to his eyes and was gazing at something in the trees. A fishing pole was propped against the boat’s railing. When he heard her behind him, he turned around, the binoculars still pressed to his eyes. Naomi instinctively covered her chest, as if they were x-ray glasses.

  “No football game for you?” he asked, putting the binoculars down.

  “Nah.”

  “Isn’t the football game the biggest part of the day?”

  Yeah, except her ex-boyfriend happened to be the other team’s star quarterback. Naomi wasn’t exactly sure if Corey had even gotten the I-need-a-break message she’d left on his voicemail, but she kind of didn’t care. “I’m not really into football,” she replied coyly. “May I have permission to board?”

  He laughed. “Yeah, sure.”

  “So.” She ran her hands over the boat’s chrome rails. “Does this thing have a name?”

  “Not yet. She’s brand new,” Eric answered, his piercing brown eyes on her. “What field hockey position do you play again?”

  Naomi’s insides scrambled up. “Oh, center,” she responded, as if it didn’t matter, even though she’d played field hockey since she was seven and had scored two of the six goals today.

  He chuckled, then picked up the fishing pole.

  “Why is that funny?”

  “It’s not. It’s just, I can’t imagine you in a field hockey outfit.”

  “Have you tried? Imagining it, I mean.” Naomi smiled flirtaiously. She was being bold, even for her.

  “Maybe.” Eric’s eyes were on her. “It’s a pretty short kilt. You girls shorten them, don’t you?”

  “Of course not!” Naomi lied. “They’re that short to begin with!”

  She sat down on one of the captain’s chairs and stared out at the glistening water. Bridgeport’s chapel spire peeked up through the elegant, blue-green thicket, and the owls criss-crossed overhead, as if magnetically drawn to the yacht. Even the water smelled sexy.

  “So, I wanted to thank you for the other night,” she finally ventured. “The plane. Dinner. Seeing your family’s house. It was really fun.”

  Dalton removed the binoculars from around his neck. “I’m glad.”

  A cheer rose up from the football stadium in the distance, and the band started to play. Naomi glanced over in its direction, wondering who had scored. Corey was probably on the field right this second.

  Naomi looked over at Eric. Biting her lip, she stood up and took a tiny step in his direction. “So, yeah, it was fun, but...”

  “But what?” Eric paused.

  Naomi thought she detected something funny in his voice. She felt like she was standing on the edge of a cliff that overlooked the turquoise Caribbean Sea. It was either turn around and head back to the bungalow or dive off the cliff. She took a huge gulp of air.

  “Do you think that there was something maybe that could’ve been funner?” Naomi asked, twisting her head to the side.

  “Funner isn’t a word.” Eric smirked. Water lapped at the side of the boat.

  “Yeah, I know,” she whispered, lowering her eyes, feeling young and dumb. Go back to the bungalow! Now! Fighting her better judgment, she batted her eyelashes and stuck out her chest. She had no idea where she was getting these moves from. Bree, maybe? She heard Eric breathe in sharply.

  Fuck it. She was diving. She walked right up to where he stood, still fishing. He was a few inches taller than she was, and he had a tiny scratch on the side of his nose. He propped his fishing pole against the railing again.

  “Maybe this could be...funner?” Then she leaned her entire body against his and kissed him. Ahh, yes.

  His mouth felt amazing. Naomi tried to restrain herself, but part of her wanted to devour him, like he was Beluga caviar. She kept kissing him, softly at first, willing his lips to part until finally his strong hands circled her waist and his lips melted around hers. He pulled her closer. Her mouth opened. Naomi worried that she tasted like sweat from the game, but she didn’t care. Nor did she care that they were in broad daylight, on Bridgeport’s campus, on Black Saturday, and the whole school was only half a mile away.

  She stopped kissing him and took a step back, smiling shyly.

  Eric licked his lips. It looked like he was trying to hide a grin. “Um, well. That’s, uh, definitely...” He took her hand in his, and his eyes met hers. He chewed on his lower lip a little. “So I think...I think I should go back to my office for a while.”

  “Great. Let’s go,” Naomi replied, smiling. “Now.”

  Dalton steeled himself against the railing. “I mean, I think I should go back to my office and I think you should go back to your football game,” he whispered, his hand brushing her ear.

  Naomi stepped away from him and looked frantically back in the direction of the stadium. Eric stepped off the yacht. He reached out for her and helped her onto the dock too.

  “If I come to your office, you won’t regret it.” She’d never said anything like that to anybody in her life.

  “I realize that.” Eric sighed. “Believe me. I most definitely realize that. But, um...” He looked down at his navy blue boat shoes. “I think...I think I should go. But thank you.”

  And with that, he stuck his thumb out, touched her on the chin, and turned, leaving Naomi and her beautiful black pointy boots, standing on a stupid boat dock, alone.

  29

  Amir stood, gin and tonic in hand, talking to Benny Cunningham at the Black Saturday party, which was, surprise surprise, at Maurice Johnson’s country house in Woodstock, about an hour away from Bridgeport. He saw Bree spill out of a Hummer with a group of field hockey girls. They were all dressed up in matching slouchy V-neck cashmere sweaters. Bree’s sweater showed off her beautiful hazelnut skin and exposed some of her bare shoulders, and he could see a wide, cream-colored bra strap.

  After the football game, Maurice had handed Bridgeport’s elite overnight off-campus passes and ushered everyone toward a fleet of black Hummer limos that he’d borrowed from his dad’s Wall Street I-banking firm. Amir had watched from a distance as Maurice approached Bree, who was flanked by gaggle of admirers, kissed her primly on the cheek, and handed her a pass. Even he had to give her props for the cheer.

  The party took place on the house’s massive back lawn. It was warm and still out, and Maurice had had the gardener install a giant white tent and rows of twinkly Christmas lights. He’d also nabbed six giant sculptures from his parents’ ever-growing collection of random gallery purchases to decorate the exp
ansive tent. The sculptures were gigantic blooming lilies. Their lustrous folds reminded everyone not so subconsciously of sex. As if anyone needed another reminder of sex. After watching Bree’s chest, it was all anyone could think about.

  Bree spied Amir and hurried over. “Hey! Where’d you go after the game?” she exclaimed brightly.

  “Just took off for here a little early, I guess,” he answered, then looked away fast. He still felt all messed up over this Crystal-Zane-Bree business.

  “What’s the matter?” she asked.

  “Nothing.”

  “Bree, that cheer was totally fun.” Benny squeezed Bree’s hand. Benny’s pearl earrings were so big they made her earlobes droop.

  “Thanks!” Bree cried.

  “Amir, did you see it?”

  “I saw it.” It would have been hard not to see it. It had been kind of slutty but kind of sexy at the same time. And his brain had felt like it was going to explode, watching both Bree and Crystal stick out their chests and smack their butts at the same time. And of course he’d relished watching Maurice shrivel in embarrassment when Bree called him out on his small weenie.

  Bree eyed him carefully. “Seriously, you all right?”

  “Eh,” Amir murmured.

  “What’s the matter?” she asked again. Benny shimmied away to hang around someone else. “You can tell me.”

  He mashed his lips together. He didn’t know what he was feeling. Was he confused about Crystal? Pissed at Bree for being so into Zane? Annoyed to be back at school, period? Suddenly an alarmingly high-pitched voice pealed over the crowd.

  “Bree!” Amir and Bree’s heads swiveled. Celine sat across the room, on a pristine white leather couch. Naomi, dressed all in black, sat on the couch’s arm. Crystal stood on the other side, smoking through a thin silver cigarette holder. Amir’s heart started thudding. “Bree, c’mere!” Celine crowed.

  Bree looked back at Amir. “You sure you’re all right?” she asked.