BRIDGEPORT ACADEMY #1

by Ashley Valentine

  But she couldn’t. And she wasn’t sure why.

  35

  On Monday morning, Bree sat at the large, round oak table in Dean Marymount’s office, a few minutes into her Disciplinary Committee meeting. The room smelled like a combination of old books and new paint. Zane sat only a few chairs away; Naomi, Ryan, Celine, and the other DC members, as well as Mr. Pardee, Mr. Dalton, and Dean Marymount, sat in a line on the other side of the table, their hands folded and their eyes fixed carefully on her. Because it was DC members only, Crystal wasn’t allowed to be at the hearing. Bree pictured Crystal nervously smoking a whole pack of cigarettes inside Dumbarton right now, in anticipation of the verdict.

  On the wall across from Bree were silver-framed paintings created by Bridgeport’s graduating classes, 1985 through present. They were handprints, in different poster-paint colors, each footnoted with the student’s name. Even Bridgeport students’ hands had a wealthy look about them. She wondered what hers would look like up there with the others. Then she wondered if she’d be at Bridgeport long enough to even to put her handprint on her class’s painting.

  Talk about down to the wire. She still hadn’t decided what she was going to say in DC yet, and now it was time. Marymount, looking especially suburban in a navy sweater vest under his maroon Bridgeport blazer and his gold wire-rimmed round glasses, licked his finger to turn the page of his yellow pad. “Okay. Mr. Pardee, the notes here say that Mr. Taylor was caught in Miss Hargrove’s room. They were talking, and Mr. Taylor was nearly naked. That’s correct?”

  “That’s right,” confirmed Mr. Pardee. “I caught them, and it looked as if some sexual activity had taken place.” He looked down at the table then, color rising on his neck. Bree bit the inside of her cheek.

  Marymount swung his gaze over to Bree. “Miss Hargrove?”

  This was it. Time to either sell out Crystal, or sell out herself and her new life. She took a deep breath, even though she had no idea what she was about to say.

  “It was all my fault.”

  Everyone in the room turned to Zane. He cleared his throat.

  “Excuse me?” Marymount asked.

  “It was all my fault,” he repeated. “See, I was looking for Crystal. I’d been asleep, in my boxers, and I went over like that. I wandered into their room, but Crystal wasn’t there. So I started talking to Bree, but she in no way invited me in. That’s when Pardee caught us. It might have looked like Bree and I were together, but we weren’t. She really had nothing to do with this.”

  Bree’s mouth fell open.

  “I sat on her bed,” he went on. “She didn’t ask me to. I just went ahead and did it.”

  Marymount ran his hand through his thinning hair. “Do you realize the repercussions of that? The inappropriateness?”

  “Yeah.” Zane hung his head.

  Bree bit her lip and sat on her hands. The student part of the committee stared at her blankly, their faces completely devoid of emotion. Most likely because everyone was still hungover from Saturday night. Although she was trying her hardest to be unemotional, inside, she felt like a malfunctioning pinball machine. She was off the hook, but now Zane was in major trouble. What if he got kicked out? Would everyone blame her? More important, did Bree risk losing the first boy she might even...love?’

  Marymount straightened up and rolled his knuckles on the desk. “Miss Hargrove? This is what happened?”

  Bree nodded slightly. It was true, after all. Sort of.

  “Well, even so, this isn’t the best way to start off the year, especially with your cheer at the field hockey game. I want you to report to my office next week.” Marymount frowned. “I think we’ll have to figure out something to keep you out of trouble.”

  Bree nodded. “Okay.”

  Marymount turned back to Zane. “Just so we’re clear. Mr. Taylor, you’re taking all the blame for this?”

  Zane took a deep breath. He’d dreamed of this moment, the very second they actually kicked him out of Bridgeport. Somewhere inside of him it had always felt sort of inevitable. He’d imagined what he’d say, what he’d be wearing. He’d crazily imagined that he’d have on this red Power Rangers outfit he had as a kid and would wave around one of his dad’s unloaded vintage rifles, just to freak them out a little. He’d have his oversizedRay Bansunglasses on his forehead. He’d tell all the Bridgeport staff precisely what he thought of them and then he’d climb on Credo and ride off into the sunset.

  But things never happened as you imagined them. Now he broke out in a cold sweat in his white button-down and maroon pressed Bridgeport jacket. He thought of all the stuff he’d miss if they booted him out. The owls. The way the sun set orange and purple over the Hudson. His favorite stained glass window in the chapel. Playing soccer with Donovan when they didn’t feel like studying. The cafeteria’s cherry pie and the cheerful cafeteria worker Mabel, who was from a little town near Lexington. Crystal. Bree. He’d miss everything he saw in Bree.

  “Well?” Marymount prompted again.

  “Yes.” He nodded. “I am.”

  “Well, then,” Marymount continued in a small, disappointed voice. “Committee, do we find Mr. Taylor guilty? All in favor?”

  Naomi, Mr. Dalton, Mr. Pardee, and Benny raised their hands. The freshman and sophomore DC committee members shrugged apologetically but raised their hands too. Finally, Donovan reluctantly raised his hand, and so did the two senior girl members.

  A dreadful pause hung over the air as Marymount surveyed each of the DC members’ hands. Zane stared at the floor.

  Finally Marymount sighed. “All right. This is what we’re going to do. Mr. Taylor, this is your absolute last warning. We’re going to put you on probation. Again. Two weeks. You can’t go to the stables unless there’s an emergency with your horse. No town privileges, and no visitation privileges. You’ll go to chapel, to class, and to meals, but that’s it.”

  He kept talking, but nobody could hear him. Donovan, Benny, and the two senior girls let out collective, grateful sighs. Naomi squeaked back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest, trying not to smile.

  “Wait,” Bree whispered to no one in particular. “What’s happening?”

  “It means the old bastard’s letting me stay,” Zane murmured. But in his voice, she could tell how glad he was. And from the meaningful look he gave her, Bree thought maybe, just maybe, it had something to do with her.

  36

  Naomi rifled through her field hockey bag and pulled out a sixteen-ounce bottle of rum. “We have to celebrate,” she announced dramatically. The three girls sat exhausted on the floor of Dumbarton dorm room 303, Bree and Naomi from the stress of DC, Crystal from the stress of not being at DC.

  Bree watched as Naomi poured rum slowly into each of their chipped glasses. She kind of felt like she had at the Black Saturday party—warm, gooey, and included. This was what she’d dreamed life at Bridgeport would be like, and now it was real. Her dreams had come true.

  At least, she felt that with Naomi. Crystal still seemed a little cold. Sure, as soon as Bree had come back in the room and told Crystal the news, she’d quickly run over and given Bree a huge hug, saying how eternally grateful she was that she hadn’t named her. But there was still some unfinished business between them.

  “To the new year at Bridgeport,” Naomi toasted.

  They clinked glasses.

  “And,” Crystal interjected, “to us putting this whole Jade thing behind us.”

  “Right,” Naomi agreed.

  “I didn’t even know that was upsetting you guys so much,” Bree ventured.

  “It’s a long story.”

  “There were rumors,” Crystal explained. “People were talking about why Jade was kicked out. Some said I did it, others said Naomi did. Neither of us knew what to believe.”

  “Speaking of rumors,” Naomi began. Bree noticed that Naomi’s eyes were tinged pink, and her fingernails, normally polished and buffed to perfection, were bitten down to nubs. “Um, did either o
f you hear anything about me and Eric Dalton?”

  “No,” Crystal answered a little too quickly. Bree gave her a puzzled look.

  Naomi rolled her eyes. “I mean, I know you both know. Anyway, I’ve been having this...this thing with Mr. Dalton.”

  “Did you sleep with him?” Crystal asked.

  “No. But I almost did.”

  They were silent for a moment.

  “But, um, Corey caught me coming off his boat yesterday,” Naomi continued evenly, pushing her hair behind her ear. Bree noticed a huge hickey on her neck. “And I’m wondering how he knew I’d be there.”

  Bree mashed her lips together and noticed Crystal was doing the same thing. She hadn’t said a word to anyone, but Crystal certainly had. Although...how had Crystal found out? Did Naomi think she had told on her?

  “I had no idea,” Crystal repeated, not looking at Naomi directly.

  “Okay,” Naomi muttered.

  “Are you okay?” Bree asked. “With Mr. Dalton and everything?”

  Naomi shrugged. She wasn’t sure what to say. She wished she could be more adult and tell them the truth, that while she’d been watching Eric undress, she’d actually missed the way boys her age with fumbled around nervously, getting tangled in their clothes, like they couldn’t believe their luck, being with a girl like Naomi. Eric’s obvious experience had freaked her out. She wished she could go back to him and confidently say, Hey, big boy, take me now. But she couldn’t. She wasn’t ready. Of course, she wanted to tell Crystal and Bree all of that, but she’d told Crystal that she’d lost her virginity years ago to that Swiss boy in Gstaad. What would she think if Naomi admitted the truth now?

  The girls silently sipped their drinks, waiting for Naomi to respond. Bree leaned back. She felt lucky. She wasn’t Zane’s girlfriend, but she knew that if anything ended up happening between them, it wouldn’t feel wrong at all. It would feel exactly right. Now if only Crystal would get back together with Amir...

  “Hey.” Crystal broke the silence. “I have an idea.” She scrambled to her feet and ran out of the room. Quickly, she returned holding a thick, red, leather-bound book. It said BRIDGEPORT OWLS, 2010. “The lounge has these dating back to the fifties.”

  “An old yearbook?” Naomi asked. “We’re not in this one yet.”

  “No, but Mr. Dalton is.” Crystal smiled wryly.

  “Oh my God, open it,” Bree exclaimed.

  They opened the book to seniors, then D, for Dalton. There he was, in a graduation tux, with that same, I’m-up-to-some-thing-but-you’ll-never-find-out smile. He did look five years younger but still every bit as cute. They stared at it in silence.

  “I thought maybe we’d find out he was a huge dork who was obsessed with PlayStation and had a whole bunch of zits,” Crystal admitted solemnly. “I thought that might help.” She shrugged, “That definitely doesn’t appear to be the case.”

  “Please,” Bree countered. “All we have to do is find his freshman yearbook. I guarantee he looked like a total freak. I mean, everybody looks dorky when they’re a freshman.”

  “Even you?” Crystal asked good-naturedly.

  “Oh, no. I was never a dork. You should see my pictures from seventh grade. I had this Old Navy fleece thing happening. It was totally hot.”

  “Ew.” Crystal laughed.

  “Yeah. When you meet my dad, he’ll definitely show you pictures.”

  Naomi hit her with a pillow. “You’re so weird.”

  Bree started giggling and hit Naomi back. A feather shot out of the pillow and landed on Crystal’s sticky lip-gloss-coated lip, causing Bree to laugh even harder. Maybe it was the rum, but she felt manic.

  Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. The girls froze.

  “The rum,” Crystal whispered. “Under the bed.”

  They scrambled to hide the cups and, in their hurry, even hid the 2000 yearbook. Crystal flung the door open to see Marymount, Angelica Pardee, and Mr. Pardee, all crowded by the wooden threshold.

  Oh God, Bree thought. They’ve changed their minds. We’re all getting expelled anyway. Shit, shit, shit.

  “This room is definitely big enough for four,” Angelica mused, looking around.

  “All we’d need is an extra bed,” Mr. Pardee added. “There’s already a free desk.”

  Crystal, Bree, and Naomi looked at one another. Four?

  “Um, can we help you?” Naomi asked. She tried to keep her mouth as closed as possible while she talked, so the teachers wouldn’t smell her rummy breath.

  “Girls,” Marymount announced, “I have some interesting news that I think you’ll be happy about.”

  “What?” Crystal was perplexed. “You’re sticking another girl in here with us?”

  “Not just another girl.” Mr. Pardee smiled. “Your old friend Jade.”

  All three roommates fell silent. Crystal and Naomi stared at each other, eyes widening. Bree’s eyes darted back and forth, between them. Jade?

  “Wait,” Crystal squeaked. “What are you saying?”

  “You heard us,” Marymount boomed. “The faculty has decided to reinstate Jade.”

  “And she’s moving back in...here?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Wow,” was all Naomi could say. The other girls nodded.

  “Jeepers,” Bree added.

  Jeepers pretty much said it all.

  CrystalAlexander: You’re just across the room, but I don’t want Bree to hear what I have to say.

  NaomiPeterson: Okay, shoot.

  CrystalAlexander: I don’t know if there’s room on this campus for Jade and Bree.

  NaomiPeterson: What do you mean?

  CrystalAlexander: I know you know what I mean.

  NaomiPeterson: Okay, yeah, they both have that... something. But maybe they’ll be BFF?

  CrystalAlexander: Or scratch each other’s eyes out.

  NaomiPeterson: It’s going to be an interesting year...

  CrystalAlexander: I’ll say.

  NaomiPeterson: How do u think Jade got back in, anyway?

  CrystalAlexander: Maybe she gave Marymount a lap dance... I hear he likes that.

  NaomiPeterson: You’re so dirty.

  CrystalAlexander: But that’s why you love me!

  NaomiPeterson: I do. For now, anyway...

  UPCOMING BOOKS

  Bridgeport Academy #2

  Bree Hargrove arrived at elite Bridgeport Academy with dreams of turning herself into the sophisticated, awe-inspiring Bree she's always wanted to be. And it's finally, finally happening! She's even rooming with the two most popular girls in school, Crystal Alexander and Naomi Peterson, and bunking in the notorious Jade Carmichael's old bed. Coolness is rubbing off on her, even while she sleeps!

  Okay, so Crystal almost got Bree kicked out of Bridgeport on her first night there, but there's a bright side. Like Crystal's curly-haired boyfriend, Zane Taylor, who just can't seem to focus on his girlfriend anymore. Now everyone is gossiping about boyfriend-stealing Bree. They can't help but whisper: Bree's it.

  But who's that flying in on her seaplane? After getting expelled last year, Jade's back and she's not about to let some big-chested city girl get all the attention. And she's certainly not going to let Crystal and Naomi forget that she took the fall for them. Now it's their turn.

  Is Bridgeport big enough for Bree, Crystal, Naomi, and Jade? They're all beautiful, captivating, and a little bit crazy...but there can be only one It Girl.

  Upper East Side 12: The Prequel

  Welcome to New York City’s Upper East Side, where my friends and I live and go to school and play and sleep—sometimes with each other. We’re an exclusive group of indescribably beautiful people who happen to live in those majestic, white-glove-doorman buildings near Central Park. We attend Manhattan’s most elite single-sex private schools. Our families own yachts and estates in various exotic locations throughout the world. We frequent all the best beaches and the most exclusive ski resorts. We’re seated immediately at the ni
cest restaurants in the chicest neighborhoods without a reservation. We turn heads. But don’t confuse us with Hollywood actors or models or music stars—those people you feel like you know because you hear so much about them, but who are actually completely boring compared to the parts they play or the songs they sing. There’s nothing boring about me or my friends, and the more I tell you about us, the more you’re going to want to know.

  Our story begins with three inseparable, completely gorgeous fifteen-year-olds, Chanel Crenshaw, Porsha Sinclaire, and Kaliq Braxton. Porsha's loved Kaliq and his glittering green eyes since she was in onesies. Too bad Kaliq wishes Porsha's beautiful best friend, Chanel, was the one with the crush. And Chanel has a secret she's keeping from them both. Hmmm, something tells me these best friends may not be as close as we thought...

  How do I know all this? Because I know everything—and lucky for you, I can't keep a secret. So sit back while I untangle this messy little tale and tell you how it all began.

  Upper East Side 13: The Sequel

  It finally happened: we went to college. We started over. No one knows who we've slept with, what we scored on the SATs, where our parents live, or when we became corrupt. We've learned new things, made new friends, and maybe even met the loves of our lives. We've changed.

  Or at least, some of us have. But old habits are hard to break—especially when faced with your former besties and former flames. With everyone back in the city for the holidays, this break is guaranteed to be filled with makeups, breakups, and shakeups.

  A lot can change in a few months...but some things never do.

  Fifth Avenue

  Porsha Sinclaire and Chanel Crenshaw were the reigning princesses of the Upper East Side. Until now. Get out your platinum pens, Gucci satchels, and cashmere cardigans: it's a brand new year on the Upper East Side and the notorious Cartwrights triplets are taking Manhattan by storm. It's going to be another wild and wicked year, I can smell it.