Bridgeport Academy #2

by AshleyValentine

  “Sorry.” Crystal pulled away, keeping her eyes glued to Angelo, who looked like he wished the game were over so he could kiss Crystal exclusively. Next Naomi spun the bottle sloppily, and Bree’s heart dropped when it wobbled to a stop between her and Verena, but clearly closer to Bree.

  “So close!” Verena exclaimed in disappointment. “Go ahead, Bree, it’s you.”

  “Yeah, but it’s in the middle.” Cute as Angelo was, the idea of making out with anyone besides Zane made Bree feel sick. There was no way she could do what Crystal had done now that she’d kissed Zane. It just seemed gross to kiss any other guy.

  “What’s the matter, Bree? Don’t you want to play?” Jade smiled. “Verena will get her turn, don’t worry.”

  Bree could feel everyone watching her. And all of a sudden the dim purplish light in the room seemed kind of freaky. Crystal’s eyes seemed to be piercing through her. Shit. Shit. Shit. Crystal was going to know something was up if she refused to play along.

  With her heart in her throat, Bree crawled over to Angelo, her bare knees getting rug burn. She paused in front of him. He still looked a little bewildered but had clearly decided to just go with it. Quickly she pressed her lips to his cheek and scooted back.

  “Don’t insult us. Real kisses only, please.” Jade leaned forward, her hair falling around her face like a curtain, her violet eyes like lasers. “It’s not like there’s someone else, right?”

  As always, Jade’s voice was light and seemingly carefree, but Bree knew enough to realize that this was a test—if she didn’t do it right, she might as well kiss her dreams of belonging to the intimate world of the Bridgeport elite goodbye. And that was all she ever wanted, wasn’t it? To be one of the pretty, popular girls, friends with someone like Jade Carmichael. That was priceless—surely she could trade off one small, teeny-tiny kiss on the lips for that?

  Without saying anything, Bree abruptly turned to Angelo again, and, before she could stop herself, kissed him full on the mouth. She’d intended to just hold her lips there for a sufficient amount of time, but Angelo was clearly getting into the game, and she felt his tongue pry open her lips and find its way into her mouth. She forced herself to count to three before pulling away and retreating back to her spot in the circle, barely resisting the urge to grab Naomi’s jumbo bottle of mouthwash from her dresser to gargle.

  Bree glanced at Jade, hoping to see some sign of acceptance in her eyes, but they didn’t look any different than they had thirty seconds ago.

  “Don’t forget to spin,” Jade said coolly, leaning against the bed with her arms crossed in front of her chest, looking like a queen who had just seen a mediocre performance by one of her underlings and was now ready for the next thing. She nudged the bottle toward Bree with her toe.

  Suddenly Bree realized with a horrible sinking feeling, as if the elevator she was in had just dropped twenty floors, that gaining Jade’s approval wasn’t going to be as simple as making out with the pizza boy.

  She spun the bottle blindly, and as the game continued, she had to bite the insides of her cheeks to keep herself from spilling tears like the big baby she was. What had she done? She was disgusted with herself—how could she let Jade push her around like that? And how could she do this to Zane? She couldn’t wait to brush her teeth and get the horrible taste of another guy out of her mouth.

  “Who’s up for a game of strip poker?” Crystal staggered to her feet, the heel of her satin Kate Spade pump piercing a half-eaten piece of pizza lying on the floor. “Fuck.” She slid her foot out of the shoe, leaving it where it was.

  “Will you stay and play with us, Angelo?” Sage sat down next to him and draped her arm around his shoulders, bitter that she hadn’t gotten a chance to kiss him but willing to trade for the opportunity to see him strip.

  “I guess I could stay a while longer.”

  “Hey.” Naomi nudged Bree, looking concerned. “Wanna get out of here? We can watch TV in the lounge or something.”

  Bree clutched Naomi’s arm gratefully, feeling drunk and depressed and badly in need of some downtime. “God, please. Let’s go.” Naomi stood up and pulled Bree to her feet.

  “Where are you going?” Crystal demanded, rummaging through her desk drawer for the pack of cards she kept there.

  Naomi stretched her back and yawned. “We’re going to head down to the lounge and watch a movie. I’m really drunk. If I have any more, I’ll be sick. I’m not much of a card player anyway.” She picked up a paper plate and loaded a few slices of pizza on it before scooting out the door behind Bree, who looked like she was about to cry. “See ya.”

  Crystal slammed the drawer shut and narrowed her eyes. Naomi didn’t look drunk, though Bree certainly did. What were they thinking, leaving the Café Society meeting before anything really good had happened?

  “Naomi has gotten so boring.” Jade shuffled the cards like a pro. She handed the cards to Celine, who dealt them, giggling the whole time and nudging Angelo, who was looking quite drunk. Sage took the tortoiseshell clip from Celine’s hair and stuck it in Angelo’s head. They all collapsed into drunken giggles.

  “She’s been bitchy all year,” Crystal said, bitter at Naomi for having rejected her company yet again. “And she’s bummed that Mr. Dalton lost interest.” Crystal picked up someone’s half-full mug and downed it. She knew she was getting plastered, but it distracted her from feeling sorry for herself. Why were Naomi and Bree getting so cliquey without her? What made them so chummy? She wouldn’t have minded curling up on one of the couches downstairs with her cashmere blanket and a bag of Cheetos and watching a Tyler Perry movie with the two of them, if they’d thought to invite her.

  “About that…” Jade leaned in confidentially. “I might know the reason for the sudden change in his affections.”

  “You?” Crystal tried not to look horrified. She glanced around. Benny and Alison were pouring more drinks and not paying attention, and Verena and Celine and Sage were completely wrapped up in Angelo.

  Jade nodded her glossy head. “Yeah. We had a very…promising meeting last week. And he’s taking me to New York tomorrow for a little romantic getaway.” She grinned proudly.

  Crystal had to look away. How could Jade do that? And what about Mr. Dalton? How many students was he going to try and sleep with? Poor Naomi. Of course Jade was to blame. Crystal shivered, wondering if she should go down and talk to Naomi right now. But then, she was undoubtedly too busy with her new best friend, Bree.

  Instead, she poured herself another drink. Jade was horrible, yes, but at least she was open about it. Crystal couldn’t help feeling like Naomi and Bree were just as bad...just more secretive. But maybe it was just the wine talking. Maybe.

  To: Eric Dalton’s students and advisees

  From: EricDalton@Bridgeport.edu

  Date: Tuesday, September 17, 8:55 a.m.

  Subject: No class today

  Dear Students,

  Due to unexpected circumstances, I won’t be able to attend class today. Please continue with the scheduled assignments from the syllabus. Thank you—I’ll see you tomorrow.

  Sincerely,

  EFD

  To: CrystalAlexander@Bridgeport.edu

  From: AmirPhillips@Bridgeport.edu

  Date: Tuesday, September 17, 9:17 a.m.

  Subject: U sick?

  Hey, Crystal,

  I’m in Latin, but you’re not here. Just wanted to see if you want me to bring you soup or an almond croissant…or Gatorade?

  Love,

  Amir

  22

  Crystal woke up with a headache like a car wreck and her mouth tasting like sawdust. She peeked out from under her cashmere blanket and was greeted by hot, blinding sunlight. What time was it? She had to pee, but any movement sent alarm sirens through her head, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to leave her snuggly burrow to face the day. Her stomach was roiling—how much had she had to drink? She had a vague memory of stealing other p
eople’s plastic cups of wine and Bridgeport mugs filled with rum and Cokes. The smell of rum coming from a mug on the floor made her stomach lurch, even though it was empty. She remembered spending a few hours in the bathroom, vomiting up everything in her stomach, which was really just alcohol since she’d skipped the pizza. No wonder her mouth was so dry. She had to get some water or she’d die. What time was it, anyway? Today was Tuesday, right? She was sure she was missing some class, but it hurt her head to try to think of which one.

  She kicked off her blanket, revealing an empty, sun-dappled room. Pizza boxes still lay on the floor. She reached for her cell phone and turned it on. Next to it, on her nightstand, stood an Evian bottle and two Tylenol capsules. Jade. Tears came to her eyes. Jade never managed to get as drunk as anyone else and always managed to remember the water. An image from last night came back to her—Jade holding back her hair as she knelt over the toilet. Crystal had been a stumbling, cursing, crying, sweaty mess, and Jade had sat with her in the bathroom, making her drink water and holding her hair back when she was sick. Jade had listened to her wail about Zane for hours, just reassuring her things would be okay and that he’d get what he deserved.

  She loved that girl, even if she had stolen Mr. Dalton from Naomi. That was totally insane. But none of her business, really. Let Naomi and Jade duke it out; it had nothing to do with her. Crystal cracked open the bottle of water and washed down the Tylenol before collapsing back on her pillow with her phone in hand. 10:29 A.M. She pulled her covers back over her head, shutting out the annoying sunlight. She had seven new text messages. At least one of them could be from Zane, right? Her thumb clicked down through them. Five from Amir. Two from Angelo—when had she given him her number? Probably when she had her tongue down his throat. What was wrong with her?

  Maybe because she only wanted one person and he wasn’t interested. Crystal dialed his number anyway, feeling safe beneath her covers. Maybe he’d just needed some time apart? Maybe he missed her? But his phone didn’t even ring, just went directly to voicemail: “This is Zane. Leave me a message.” The only thing worse than leaving a hungover message on an ex-boyfriend’s voicemail was leaving a drunken one, and she was grateful that Jade had taken away her phone last night; otherwise she probably would have tried that too.

  She flipped her phone shut before the beep and pressed her face into her pillow. Maybe she could just sleep through this day. Or this year.

  23

  Bree wandered around campus on Tuesday morning, so overcome with guilt that she couldn’t sit still. She’d been unable to sleep last night, even after Naomi had gotten her out of there and the two of them had giggled and watched Next Friday in the lounge. But Bree was still tormented by how she had idiotically let Jade provoke her into making out with Angelo. It made her sick just thinking about it. What had she done?

  Part of her had wanted to hide under her scratchy blue blanket all day, but then she felt like she was going to suffocate breathing the same air as Crystal and Jade. Now she was outside on the quad, but she still felt the same stifling bubble around her head. If she didn’t get away from here, she was seriously going to flip out. She pulled out her new iPhone 6 and dialed the one person she knew could make her feel better.

  “Muffulupugus!” Rufus’s deep baritone rumbled loudly through her new phone. His voice made her smile, even though she had to hold her cell phone away from her ear. “How the hell are you?”

  “I’m…I’m good, Dad.” Bree tugged at a long curl of hair. “I was just kind of hoping you could maybe call the Bridgeport office and get them to give me a mental health day.”

  “A what? A mental health day? Are you all right?”

  Great, make him worry about you getting kicked out of another school, she thought bitterly to herself. “I just need an afternoon in the city, but I won’t do any shopping, just go to a couple of museums. You’ll meet me. We’ll get fried dough at the Mexican place on Amsterdam.”

  “No can do, sweets. I’m assisting Yasmine on a film this afternoon…There’s this hugely overweight squirrel in Bryant Park. We want to capture what it eats in an entire twenty-four-hour period, except we’re kind of cheating. Anyway, you’re still doing all right there?” Rufus sounded worried. “I thought you were enjoying it—the As, the field hockey, the horseback riding?”

  “I’m doing great, I swear.” Bree crossed her fingers as she lied. “I just miss the city—it gets a little suffocating…being out here with all this fresh air. I think I might be getting too much oxygen or something.”

  He sighed heavily, but Bree could tell he couldn’t resist. “All right. I’ll call the office and tell them I need you home for the day.”

  Bree squealed and thanked him profusely. The second she hung up, she called a cab to meet her at the front gate and practically skipped back to the dorm to grab her wallet. Suddenly Bridgeport didn’t feel suffocating now that she knew she could get away from it for the day. Yeah, she’d screwed up, but with any luck, Zane wouldn’t find out about it, and it really was just a little kiss. Plus it wasn’t like she and Zane were dating…not officially. She couldn’t wait to catch the next train out of this malicious world and into the big, wonderful city.

  “Bree!” She whirled around to see Zane jogging across the grassy quad toward her, and her skin tingled. His long legs caught up to her easily. He looked extra cute in a pair of dark brown cargos—she’d never seen him in anything other than Levi’s—and a plain white T-shirt. “Where are you running off to?”

  “Oh, um, I’m going to the city for the day… I need to breathe, you know, polluted air.” Bree felt herself fidgeting, convinced that Zane could see right through her. She tapped her red boot against the grass.

  “Yeah, this much fresh air can’t be good for a city kid. Bridgeport can feel like it’s got this giant bubble over it, and you forget sometimes that nothing here is really life or death.”

  “Exactly.” Bree smiled. “Hey, do you…want to come with me?” she asked impulsively. Although she had been fantasizing about wandering through the vast halls of the Met by herself, suddenly the picture seemed so much more complete if Zane was in it too. And maybe if she could be alone with him in the real world, the things that had happened last night in the Bridgeport bubble wouldn’t matter so much. “We could get lunch, maybe go to a couple of museums.”

  “Yeah?” Zane looked at Bree’s face with eagerness, then frowned in disgust. “I’m on, like, double probation from Dalton. And since I don’t know who his spies are, I don’t know if I can risk pissing him off more.”

  Bree’s face fell. “I totally forgot about that. Oh, well, the last thing I want is for you to get kicked out of here—”

  “Except…” Zane interrupted Bree and smiled at her. “Dalton sent out an email this morning saying he was sick. So presumably he’s not around…Let’s go.”

  Bree’s brown eyes widened. “But…”

  He grabbed her hand, and the feel of his warm, rough fingers against her skin silenced her.

  The train to the city was crowded, but Bree and Zane found two seats together, playing tic-tac-toe in her sketchbook and each listening to Zane’s iPod with one headphone until they pulled into Grand Central Station. They took a cab uptown to the Met, but before going in, Zane bought them each a hot dog from a sidewalk vendor and they sat on the steps of the museum in the early-autumn sunshine. She’d done this so many times, hoping that one of the cool girls like Porsha or Chanel would notice her or that someone famous might sit down next to her and suddenly she’d show up in Us Weekly as the mysterious companion of some famous A-list actor.

  Bree leaned back against the stone steps and sighed. For years, all she’d wanted was to be one of those girls people talked about. She knew it was shallow, but she couldn’t help it. All of literature was filled with the sort of devastatingly beautiful and seductive women whose image became tattooed on the brain of everyone in the room, making them smile or groan in anguish when they thought o
f her, which they inevitably would. She didn’t want anyone to write a book about her necessarily—but she wanted to be the kind of person that could inspire someone to do that. Was that so wrong?

  But now, sitting here with Zane, she suddenly didn’t care if she was the kind of girl Jay Gatsby would remember years later, or Maurice Johnson, or Jade crazy-scary-bitch Carmichael. Or if she ever showed up on Page Six again. All that mattered was Zane sitting next to her in one of her most favorite spots in the world, with a small blob of ketchup on his cheek.

  “Bridgeport’s definitely a small place. Especially when you start out like you did—with a big splash.” He took another bite of hot dog. “But people would have known you right away anyway.”

  Bree wiped the ketchup away with her thumb. “Why do you say that?” She nervously thought of her chest—not too many of Bridgeport’s pedigreed cashmere-cable-knit-sweater-and-tweed-skirt crowd had the double D’s she sported. She definitely did not want any sonnets written for her boobs.

  Zane swallowed. “Because…I don’t know, it sounds stupid…but you’ve got this thing.”

  “Me?” She looked down at the cement steps, feeling a little shy but totally flattered.

  Zane just smiled and requested a “Bree Hargrove highlights tour” through the museum. They ended up winding back through the galleries several times, looking for the things Bree loved the most—a Cézanne painting with dozens of apples spilling across a table, the pink Klimt portrait of a pretty young girl that Bree had always wished was her, the quiet Vermeer of a young woman holding a water pitcher, the misty George Inness of a single girl wandering through an orchard, the beautifully calligraphied Islamic manuscripts. Zane paused in front of each one, silently taking it in and then kissing her.