by Shel Stone
By Shel Stone
Copyright ©2019 Shel Stone
All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the work of the author's imagination, or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.
Shel Stone - Author
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Chapter 1
Upper East Side, Manhattan
THE STONE EDIFICE OF the Carterton Academy sat mutely and sternly outside the window of the warm town car. Cecily took a deep breath and stared at the structure. This was a new thing, a new chapter. This was exciting, she told herself. Senior year in a new school and a new country. Well, it felt like a new country.
“Miss Chambers, do you need assistance in any way?” the driver asked, obviously noting her hesitation to get out. Hesitation wasn’t the right word. She had the credentials to be there. And apparently that mattered. Sink or swim was how one of her friends had referred to the school. Truthfully, Cecily didn’t quite know what it meant.
Having friends had never been an issue at the exclusive school in Switzerland where she’d spent most of her school years. But when it came to admission to Ivy League schools, a Euro school wasn’t the guaranteed path that Carterton was. And her one true objective was to get into a good college.
With the tight smile she used for meeting any of her father’s business associates, or other dignitaries, she opened the door and stepped out in the neat uniform, consisting of a pleated skirt and a maroon blazer with the school’s insignia embroidered on the pocket. She wore the carefully considered Dior flats she’d bought to work with the uniform.
Large, old wooden doors were open and students streamed in, walking from chauffeured cars like she just had. Two guards stood by the door, carefully eyeing everyone entering the building.
They let her pass without incident. Perhaps the uniform was all they looked for, and she was glad, because she didn’t want to stand there explaining how she was a new student.
Inside, everything was wood paneling, with some strong art deco details. Slightly worn, but solidly built. A wide staircase led up and students mingled everywhere. She saw faces she knew—faces she’d seen in magazines. But this was the American set, not the European set. A completely different thing.
“Excuse me, can you tell me where the headmaster is,” she asked a passing student. A guy who looked about her age with rosy cheeks and smooth skin. Quite cute.
“Headmaster?” he said with a smirk. “Wrong country, sweetheart.”
Suddenly, Cecily felt admonished and stupid. Of course it wasn’t headmaster, but before she could say anything, the guy was gone.
No, it was probably best to ask an actual adult, who had the means to be useful.
A woman in a pencil skirt pointed the way and she followed the direction until she reached Mr. Walters, who she’d met some months back.
The office was warm and humid when she opened the door. “Ah, you must be Cecily Chambers,” a woman said as Cecily walked into the principal’s office. “We were expecting you this morning. As I think you know, the semester started a few days ago, but I’m sure you can catch up quickly enough. Now I have your schedule prepared. You have a few minutes until first period.”
“Is Mr. Walters here?”
“He’s attending to issues away from the office, but if there is anything you need, just give me a call. My number if written on the card attached to the bundle.”
The woman shifted a bundle of documents over, which included her schedule, a map and what looked like a list of rules. Nothing unexpected, Cecily supposed and smiled as she grabbed it. Her school in Switzerland had more rules than she could remember and was considered quite strict. Like most other girls, she had found her ways of working around them when necessary.
“Up the stairs to the left and five doors down and you’ll reach your first class.”
In the hall, she surveyed some of the girls walking by. Fashion was different here, the hair a little more polished. Almost everyone had clear or light pink nail polish, she noted. Nail polish had been forbidden in her old school.
One girl looked her up and down, and then turned her head away as if what she saw was uninteresting. Cecily watched as the girl walked away. A nervousness bit deep inside her. It always took time for the new kid to find their place. It had been the same in her Swiss school, and it would probably be the same here.
Still, she wasn’t entirely alone—she knew some people here. It wasn’t as if she’d never been to New York before. My father lived here, after all. Her family came from the north shore of Long Island. He probably knew the parents of most of the kids in this school. Same old crowd, he’d said once.
The building might be old, but the classroom had the latest tech and the people inside sat with their phones or spoke quietly amongst themselves. A few looked over as Cecily walked into second period after arriving late and flustered to first period. These halls were a damned maze. Now people stared, noting a stranger appearing.
As she grabbed a seat, she again deeply regretted she had to change schools for her final year. Or senior year as they called it here. Things had been good in Switzerland. She’d had her friends and she’d loved them. These last couple of months, she’d missed them. They’d cruised around all over Europe, having fun, while she’d had to go to New York and grapple with her half-brothers, plus a late holiday, which made her miss the first few days. It had been hell grappling with her brothers.
The person next to her smiled without any warmth and returned to their phone. Following suit, Cecily drew out her phone and saw what her friends were all doing without her. Everyone had sworn they’d be friends forever, but the new year had started and everyone was dealing with their own.
“Who’re you?” a guy said, sliding into the chair on the other side of her.
Blond, cute and clearly curious. “Cecily,” she said. “Cecily Chambers.”
“Is that a British accent I detect?” he asked.
“Largely,” she replied. It wasn’t as fully British as the British preferred. It had that toned-down accent of a mixed heritage. British people thought her accent was transatlantic, but Americans thought her accent was British. So it was somewhere in between.
“Largely,” the guy repeated with a smile. “Nice. Want me to show you around town?”
His friendliness was making her uneasy. Her instincts told her there was always something not quite genuine about the guy who approached the new girl on the first day. As if he figured she was desperate. “I’m alright on that front,” she replied.
“Suit yourself. It’s a tough town.”
Cecily didn’t know what to say. The crowd in Europe with its royals, oligarchs and distinguished in-crowds wasn’t exactly easy to navigate, but she had a good group of friends. Friends mattered, but perhaps not the guy who came up like a reporter and tried to charm information out. There seemed to be something very self-serving about this guy. Something predatory.
Cecily determined he wasn’t going to be one of her friends. Her instincts about people was something she’d learned to trust, and her friends were usually sources of information to back that up. Here, she was operating blindly. But her instincts told her that this guy was not someone to hang with.
Her group of friends had been such a natural thing, it seemed hard to imagine cultivating new ones in this crowd. And on one hand, she wondered if it was worth it. She had her friends in Europe and would head over there any opportunity she could. Was it even worth cultivating a new group? Obviously, it would be nice, but she was here to get the grades required for an Ivy League school. That was it.
&n
bsp; Maybe that was a lie based on false bravery, her having no desire to be an outcast, but she wasn’t about to sell her soul for it. Or show particular gratitude to the guy who likely approached all the new girls. Saying that, maybe it was the year of the boyfriend? An all-girls school had limited opportunities in that department, but she’d met a few guys in the clubs around Europe, and in parties thrown by her friends or their families.
The teacher walked in. A man in his mid-thirties wearing corduroy pants and a vest. His look screamed academic. With a sigh, he put down his worn briefcase on the desk. “Right, geopolitical shifts in colonial Africa. Who read the right section in the textbook?”
A smattering of hands raised.
The teacher sighed again. “Summer is over, boys and girls. Time to do some real work, and Cordelia, why don’t you put the phone away. I am sure Instagram will survive without you for fifty minutes. Now, let’s review some of the main colonial treaties.”
Cecily searched through the textbook for the right section. It hadn’t been opened since it had arrived by courier. While her job was to do well academically, it wasn’t something that ignited any kind of passion, or even curiosity.
*
Audrina waved her over in the cafeteria. Technically they were family, cousins, but Cecily didn’t really know her. They’d never been friends, but Cecily appreciated that she was accepting and kind enough to call her over. Audrina and her friends were juniors, but that wasn’t the end of the world.
“Tory, Morgan, Mishti,” Audrina said, going along the girls sitting at the table. They all greeted her in turn.
“Audrina said you’re the daughter of an earl or something,” one of them said. Tory, Cecily thought. Her silky light brown hair was up in a ponytail and her eyes were slanted like almonds. Gorgeous.
“My grandfather is the Earl of Swindon.”
“Swinedom?” she asked with a laugh.
Okay that was a little juvenile, Cecily though and didn’t answer. The last thing she wanted was to go into British and European names, which could be peculiar. It was simply accepted that quite a few of the English names were incomprehensible to outsiders, and pointing it out was just a bit… naff. Or common, as some would say. Not to mention some of the strange European titles and honors. Things were simpler here. It wasn’t all money, but it meant a great deal.
Mishti stretched her tanned legs. “God this is so tedious. I can’t believe we have a whole year ahead of us. I hope we don’t have any of the drama of last year. I just can’t take stupid people doing stupid things.”
Obviously, Cecily had no idea what they were referring to. “Drama’s a thing no matter where you are,” Cecily said.
“Wasn’t your school all girls?” Audrina asked.
“Yes, and we had the best time. It was only when boyfriends were involved that drama unfolded.” That wasn’t technically true, but it always stepped up to a new level when there were guys involved.
“Well, the guys here are all dogs,” Morgan said. “Every single one of them.”
“Seriously try not to sound so bitter,” Mishti replied with a smile. Then she continued conspiratorially. “Got dumped over the summer.”
“Could we please not talk about it,” Morgan said, crossing her arms with annoyance.
“You brought it up.” Mishti turned to Cecily and took her time considering her. “So where do you live?”
“A few blocks over,” Cecily said. Now that was something that was different between here and Europe. Here it mattered where you lived, while in Europe it mattered more how you lived. History made the wealthy spread out, while here, they congregated together.
“I’m dying for a coffee. Who’s coming to Roma after last period?” Morgan asked. She was looking at Cecily specifically, who didn’t entirely know what she was supposed to say. Was this a test? Was she supposed to have things to do? She didn’t. She’d literally arrived in town a few days back after spending most of the summer at her father’s house on the North Shore.
“I don’t have anything I can’t ignore,” she finally said and Morgan shifted her head. If that was the right answer, Cecily didn’t know. Hopefully, because she could really use an insider’s take on how things worked at this school, and she wasn’t entirely sure of Audrina based on past dealings, so a number of opinions were better than one.
Chapter 2
ROMA WAS A NICE PLACE. It was down the block and a glass corner store with artfully rough wooden features that were supposed to be Italianate in style. As much hipster as this area could handle without offending those too exasperated to tolerate hipster style.
“What do you think of Elle’s haircut?” Morgan asked as she threw her bag in the circular seat and slid in.
“It’s alright,” Audrina said. Cecily had no idea who Elle was, so hadn’t a clue. “Her hair was nice before.”
“I think you need to be in your late twenties before you go short,” Mishti said. “But I’ll tell you who I think looks good. Stefan.”
“Stefan? Get your hormones under control. Or he might do it for you,” Morgan said with a laugh. “She picks a guy every year and literally obsesses over him.”
“I do not.”
“Dylan Harman in freshman year,” Morgan said. “Hamish Turley sophomore year.”
“That’s true,” Audrina pointed out. “We really don’t have to recap what happened with Rich. We all know what happened with Rich.”
“I don’t,” Cecily added.
“Easy, obsession, obsession, obsession, fucking, dumped. In that order. Or is he still doing booty calls?”
“No,” Mishti said with a certain level of blushing guilt that suggested she wasn’t fully truthful.
“But yeah, go for Stefan, because he seems so much more down to earth.” And the sarcasm was inch thick.
“Not to mention that they are friends.”
“Who?” I asked.
“Rich and Stefan.”
“I only said he looked good. Filled out over the summer.”
“Ego filled out too. Once an asshole, always an asshole. All the guys are assholes around here,” Morgan said bitterly and smiled briefly as she accepted the glass of coffee with whipped cream and chocolate streaks crisscrossing the inside of the glass. It had to be a million calories. With a smile, Cecily accepted her tea with lemon, which she’d specifically asked not to be so sweet. What was with the overly sweet drinks here? Sometimes she wondered if Americans ran on sugar overload.
Taking a sip, she winced as it was sickly sweet.
“You know, you’re quite pretty,” Morgan said.
“Thank you.” Cecily didn’t quite know what she meant to say by it.
“The boys are going to fall over themselves,” she continued. “Just don’t go for Stefan, or Mishti will literally never speak to you again.”
Mishti looked less than impressed, but she didn’t argue either. Some girls were like that. You went anywhere near their crush and they took it personally—forever.
“Good to know,” Cecily said. “Any other toes I’m at risk of treading on?”
“Literally whatever you do, you’ll thread on someone’s toes.”
Great, that’s what she wanted to hear. The thing about coming in as the new person was that there were all these unspoken rules, these social dividers that she had no idea about. It was a minefield and everyone but her knew where the mines were. That was why she needed a solid group of friends to guide her. There was definitely potential here, she decided.
“There’s a party on this Friday. You should come.”
Funnily, it wasn’t Audrina who’d told her about this party, which again showed that Cecily couldn’t entirely trust her.
“Oh yes,” Mishti said breathily. “Adrian’s. It should be insane. Adrian throws the craziest parties.”
“Might be quite subdued now since his dad took that big hit. Didn’t he lose like half his wealth or something? Adrian won’t be quite so up himself since he’s practically poor now.”
“Now they’re slightly more rich than a misdemeanor,” Morgan countered.
The girls laughed. It seemed a little bitter.
“Seriously, Adrian’s an asshole,” Morgan stated.
“Yes, but a cute one,” Mishti said.
“And do not be stupid enough to obsess over Adrian. He’d eat you alive.”
“I wouldn’t mind if he eats me.”
“I thought he had a couple of years back.”
“What? No,” Mishti said equally as insincerely as when she denied sleeping with her ex.
“Anyway,” Audrina said. “It’s not a party to miss, but mind the circling sharks.”
“New meat,” Morgan said. “They all love new meat.”
Cecily looked between all the faces that were watching her. “Party it is, then,” she said and everyone seemed to relax. They talked about the clothes they would wear to the party.
All in all, this was going well, Cecily considered. She had a group of girls that seemed to accept her. They were fun and she liked the banter between them. They definitely knew the inside scoop and they’d just invited her to one of the parties you needed to be invited to. Not bad for the first day of school.
Shortly after, they broke up and went their separate ways. Cecily walked home. It wasn’t far, walking past shops and building entrances. Central park was on the other side of the road and people with dogs were crossing the road everywhere.
Internally, Cecily reviewed the day. It hadn’t gone so badly. In fact, it probably couldn’t have gone better. They were different here, but not so different. They talked about boys and what girls did with them, fashion and fortunes. All in all, not that different from her friends.
“Miss Chambers,” said the doorman to her building as she approached and walked into the marble covered lobby. It had been rare that she’d spent any time in this apartment. When she came back here, it was usually to their house on the North Shore, not the apartment in Manhattan.