Georgetown Academy 1 and 2

by Jessica Etting

  “Hillary, no one said that,” he told her. “And if you decide to walk out, you will get demerits.”

  As Hillary huffed back in her chair, Evan and Hunter caught eyes again. With him next to her and Ellie absent from class, Evan was almost able to convince herself that it was she who was Hunter’s girlfriend.

  ***

  It was nothing like Taryn’s history class in L.A. Back home, her teacher had been obsessed with being as objective as possible, taking pains not to show any American bias. They didn’t even do a strictly U.S. History class because the teachers felt it elevated American and Western history to a place of superiority over other cultures’ histories. Instead, they had long units on East Asia, Africa and most recently Latin American dictatorships that had been secretly funded by the U.S. government. Taryn had a feeling that topic would not go over well in this room.

  Now, as far as Taryn could gather, the class was supposed to be discussing whether then Speaker of the House Henry Clay had “robbed” Andrew Jackson of the presidential election of 1824 by deciding it in John Quincy Adams’s favor. However, the class kept getting sidetracked into discussions of whether Jackson and Clay were Democrats or Republicans. She looked at the seat next to her where she had hoped Gabe would sit (and then apologize for being so brusque at the rookie party). Taryn had actually thought things were going great between them during their flirty air hockey game, until he left her side abruptly never to return again. And now he was missing from class. It was bizarre. Even more bizarre was that Ellie was missing, too, though that had to be a coincidence. Maybe she was just hung over?

  Instead, a sweet, dimple-cheeked sophomore from the baseball team named Brandon Day, who apparently was on the team with Thatcher and Harrison, two of the guys Taryn had met at the party the night before, sat down next to her before class started, and immediately struck up a conversation. He even offered to show her around campus later that day since Taryn had confessed that the maze of buildings and hallways still made no sense to her.

  Taryn turned her focus back to the class where Brinley Madison was arguing passionately.

  “…and I’m sorry, but the fact that everyone is saying such negative things about Henry Clay just seems like slander. It’s unconstitutional.”

  “No, it’s not,” a red-haired guy in the back of the class said.

  “Oh, please,” Brinley responded, “just because your dad is DOJ doesn’t mean you know anything about the Constitution.” Brinley surveyed the classroom, her eyes flashing with self-importance. “I think we all know that various family members of mine crafted the Constitution, so let’s just agree on who the expert is. Not to mention, I just think it’s amusing that everyone in class is accusing Henry Clay of being a villain, when I actually happen to know firsthand he wasn’t.”

  “Brinley, if you had actually read the chapter in your textbook—” Mr. Walsh began.

  “Mr. Walsh, no offense, but our silly little book wasn’t written by people who were there. I have source materials no one in this room has access to. My grandfather’s great-great uncle’s father was friends with Henry Clay and according to him, Clay always tried to do the right thing.”

  Taryn accidentally let out a snort.

  Brinley turned and glared at her, but Taryn merely shrugged it off. After how well everything had gone last night with the other G.A. students, Taryn was feeling more confident than she had since leaving California. Earlier that day, Jenny Lim, a girl she had met at the rookie party, had invited her to hang out with some of her friends after school, and Thatcher told her about some get together he was going to throw the next week that he wanted her to come to. And now Brandon was giving her a thumbs-up with a conspiratorial smile. With a few friends in her court and a successful party under her belt, Taryn now knew she didn’t need to let people like Brinley Madison intimidate her anymore.

  “Well, I’m sorry if some people are jealous that their own families aren’t as woven into the fabric of our country as mine is, but—” Brinley started before being cut off by Mr. Walsh.

  “Okay, Brinley. That’s enough.”

  “I’m attempting to engage in free speech here,” she huffed. “Unless you’re trying to violate my first amendment rights.”

  “I’m trying to let the other students exercise that right, as well. Let’s let someone else have an opinion.” Mr. Walsh let his attention fall on Taryn. “Taryn, you haven’t said anything today. What do you think of this debate we’re having?”

  Taryn felt the entire class turn their eyes to her and decided to let these G.A. students get a little taste of what history was like in California.

  “Well,” Taryn began, “I thought the point of history was to look at all sides. Like, I know James Madison and Henry Clay might be part of our history, but let’s face it. They were also slave owners.”

  Brinley inhaled so audibly the entire room stopped. “How dare you!” she breathed.

  Emboldened, Taryn turned to Brinley.

  “Sorry, Brinley, but history is about uncovering facts and that one happens to be true. Look it up.”

  Taryn knew she had just made a bigger enemy out of Brinley, but she didn’t care anymore. She took it as a good sign that she was starting to feel more comfortable at G.A. She was making her own rules now.

  ***

  Brinley’s patience had run very thin. It was bad enough she had caught Graham cheating on her last night and spent the rest of the night replaying their break up over and over in her head, but now she was stuck in this ridiculous excuse for a history class. Between the moron they had as a teacher (a University of Missouri alum? Seriously? Could G.A. not afford to hire Ivy League?) and Taryn, who had tried to drag her family’s name through the mud (which Brinley found ridiculous considering Taryn probably got her news by watching re-runs of The O.C.), she was now ready to scream. Even Hunter, who she liked, was getting on her nerves. Did no one notice the guy managed to talk for ten minutes at a time without really saying anything? All his little platitudes about “getting along” were starting to get really pathetic. Almost as pathetic as the way Evan backed him every chance she got, like a lovesick puppy.

  Evan was doing it again right now. “Hunter is right. We shouldn’t be scared to call out the flaws in our historical figures. We haven’t even discussed that Jackson was notorious for trying to steal all the Native Americans’ land.”

  It seemed to Brinley that Evan found a way to bring up the trials and tribulations of the Native American people every chance she got. It was almost obsessive at this point.

  “Yes, Evan makes a really important point. Persecution is so wrong,” Rudy, a petite Saudi Arabian girl with bronze skin and caramel-colored hair piped up, her ever-present security guards standing two feet behind her. Rudy’s dad was a very controversial figure in the Middle East and some splinter group had tried to get back at him by kidnapping Rudy last spring. Luckily for Rudy, they had totally botched it and weren’t able to get close enough to lay a finger on her.

  Brinley had accepted the fact that Rudy was like a rock star at G.A. for the first few weeks afterward. Everyone had clamored to hear the details firsthand and get the scoop on the new beefy bodyguards who now permanently flanked her. However, once the initial excitement died down, Rudy refused to let it go. She tried to use her victim status to leverage her way into all the best D.C. parties. It was ridiculously nouveau. Brinley felt Rudy had completely exploited a tragedy just to up her own social quotient, which is why she had begun referring to her as Rudy Giuliani, instead of her real name, Shara.

  “As someone who was personally persecuted last year, back when I was almost kidnapped...” Rudy was now saying. Brinley could take it no longer. Was she the only sane person in this class?

  “That has nothing to do with what we’re talking about, Rudy!” Brinley exploded, more loudly than she had anticipated.

  “Brinley!” Mr. Walsh yelled.

  “What?” Brinley asked, innocently.

  “That’s not her
name and you know it. I’ve asked you repeatedly to stop calling her that.”

  Brinley rolled her eyes. You think a history teacher would appreciate the analogy, but it probably just flew right over the guy’s head.

  Mr. Walsh cleared his throat. “I think it’s time to change topics. We only have a few minutes left, but is it true we have a celebrity in our midst?”

  Brinley watched as he turned his attention to Taryn. What was going on?

  Taryn looked puzzled for a moment, then her expression cleared. “Oh… Are you talking about the Washington Life spread? Yeah, we’re really excited to be doing it. It seems like a really big honor.”

  Brinley’s heart stopped. It couldn’t be. The Reyeses had been chosen to pose for the President’s Day spread? The same one Brinley’s family had been lobbying hard for since October and the deputy editor had assured them they “had in the bag?” Clearly not.

  Brinley turned her attention to Taryn who gave Mr. Walsh what Brinley knew to be a faux modest shrug. Why couldn’t anyone else see it?

  “You’ll have to tell the class what the shoot is like,” Mr. Walsh was saying. “It’s such an honor.”

  Brinley’s nostrils flared. Her family had done it five times and she’d never been asked to talk to the class about it.

  And even worse than that, the Madisons were clearly being dethroned by the tasteless Reyes family.

  She was going to have to take Taryn down. Immediately. If she struck quickly enough, she might even be able to get her ousted from the spread just in time for Brinley and her family to step in. Brinley looked around the room for a second and her eyes settled on Portia, the unofficial “Press Secretary” and gossip queen of G.A. Last night she had helped Brinley spin her breakup with Graham so no one knew he had cheated on her. And later today, Brinley would feed her another story for her to run with….she just had to come up with it first.

  ***

  Ellie entered the quiet chapel on the secluded Northwest corner of campus. Gabe wasn’t there yet so she slipped into a seat in the back pew. She had slid a note in his locker telling him to meet her here. The chapel had been built a hundred years ago when the school was originally founded. Somewhere along the way, G.A. lost its religious underpinnings, becoming the secular institution it was today. But the chapel remained, no longer as a place of worship, but as a hidden nook for students to come and think. Ellie, herself, came up here every now and then, sitting in one of the hand-carved pews, gazing up at the trees that branched over the skylights. It was meditative to her.

  However, she was definitely not having zen-like thoughts right now. She blushed at the memory of last night, Gabe’s hand on her back, her pressed against the wall.

  Just then, Gabe slid onto the bench, interrupting her 50 Shades of Gabe fantasy.

  “Hey,” he said quietly. He reached for her, his hand cradling her chin. “I missed you after you left.”

  Ellie spent exactly ten minutes in the vodka room with Gabe before she finally found the power to tear herself away despite Gabe’s protestations. She spent the rest of the night regretting it.

  “Gabe, what happened last night was a mistake,” Ellie told him, moving out of his reach.

  “Why?” he asked. As if he didn’t know.

  “For one, I have a boyfriend.” Who I love, she finished to herself. Guilt over how she had betrayed Hunter the night before hit her anew. She had been torturing herself over it all night. He could never find out what happened.

  Gabe remained silent, facing forward, his jaw clenched.

  “You should go for Taryn,” she blurted out and Gabe looked at her with surprise.

  “Why are you saying that, Ellie?” he asked, his eyes steady on her.

  “She likes you. You guys would be good together,” she mumbled, hating every word coming out of her mouth, though, like a recovering drug addict flushing her stash down the toilet, she knew it was for the best. If he became interested in Taryn, it could potentially make things a lot less complicated for everyone.

  “You like her, don’t you?” she pressed.

  He sighed, exasperated. “I don’t get you. What kind of game are you playing here? Yes, she’s cool, she’s fun, she’s pretty.” Ellie nodded through the little bolts of jealousy pricking her body. “If you weren’t here, then I would probably be interested in her.”

  “Well, technically, I’m not here. I’m not an option.” She said this firmly.

  “Why? Just because of Hunter?” he asked, as if that meant nothing.

  “Obviously he’s a big part of it. But even if Hunter didn’t exist, we can’t be together. Our parents are political enemies. Your dad paid a girl to lie to the press about an affair with my dad just to humiliate my mother.” Anger flushed in Ellie’s cheeks just thinking about it.

  He shrugged. “So what?”

  “What do you mean ‘so what?’ How can you be so nonchalant about this?” she said, growing more annoyed with him by the second. This is why she needed to be with Hunter. Someone who actually got things. Who was considerate to her and how things affected her. It didn’t matter that her chemistry with Gabe was more intense. Hunter was the right guy for her.

  “I’m not being nonchalant. But I want you, Ellie.” He looked right at her as he said it, and suddenly Hunter was out of Ellie’s mind again. “And I’m not going to let our parents get in the way of being with you.”

  Ellie swallowed.

  “I’m sorry. I could never do that to my mom.” As much as it pained her, it was the truth. After all, without Ellie’s father, who did her mother have left besides Ellie? To find out her own daughter was sneaking around with the son of the very man hell bent on destroying her would be the ultimate betrayal. Ellie felt the blood rush to her head just thinking about it.

  “Is this about the campaign finance scandal with your mom?” Gabe asked. “Because I guarantee you that’s going to go away in a few days.”

  She remembered Jasmine having said something about Senator Mills snooping around her mom’s campaign finances, but from what Gabe just said, it sounded like something concrete had already emerged to the press. What lie was Gabe’s dad spreading about her mom now?

  “What campaign finance scandal?” she asked, barely recognizing her own voice.

  He paused, realizing he’d said too much.

  “This is exactly what I’m talking about!” She exploded. “I can’t live like this,. Your dad’s evil. I don’t care if it’s not your fault. I can’t look at you and not see the son of someone who keeps trying to destroy my mom’s career.” She realized tears were falling, but she could not stop herself now. “Please, Gabe. I don’t want anything to do with you. Stay away from me. If you care about me at all, that’s what you’ll do.”

  He nodded, defeated. And the look on his face was almost enough to make her stay and change her mind. Almost. But instead, she ran.

  Ellie checked to make sure all the bathroom stalls were empty before pulling her cell phone out of her bag and calling her mom. Voicemail. She inwardly cursed. Whatever campaign finance scandal Gabe had been referring to hadn’t popped up on the Google news alert on her phone yet, which gave her hope that maybe he didn’t know what he was talking about. She debated for a moment, then dialed her mother’s chief-of- staff. Jasmine picked up on the first ring.

  “Ellie. Your mom is in a meeting with some members of the NRDC. What’s up?” she said, sounding a little less unflappable than usual.

  “Jasmine…did anything come up with my mom and that whole campaign finance thing you were talking about the other night?”

  “Christ. It hasn’t even hit the news channels yet. Are people already talking about it at school?”

  Ellie paused. She couldn’t reveal her source without inviting a string of probing questions.

  “I thought I heard someone talking about it,” she said.

  Jasmine sighed. “Look, Ellie. You’re a big girl now, so here’s the deal. Senator Mills discovered one of your mom’s assistant campai
gn managers treated several big-time donors to a strip club. Mills told the press we were buying them lap dances in exchange for bigger donations.”

  “Is it true?” she asked, her stomach already in knots. Jasmine hesitated.

  “Yes. It happened. As soon as your mother found out, she fired him. But the fact that this happened at all is just… It’s not good, Ellie. That’s all I can say right now.”

  Ellie wanted to cry. She already hated whenever people said horrible, unprovoked things about her mother, something she had learned to endure from a young age, though it had never stopped hurting. The fact that it was Gabe’s dad pulling all the puppet strings on this one made her emotions rise even higher.

  “I want to come home,” she said suddenly.

  “Your mother won’t be there,” Jasmine said. “We’re in deep damage control right now. If your mom wants any shot at that chairman position on the Judiciary Committee, we have to take the reins before the next news cycle. I’m trying to get her on Paul Nelson’s show tonight.”

  Ellie didn’t know how her mom did it. If all Ellie wanted to do was curl in a ball in bed right now, she could only imagine how her poor mother felt. Though, Ellie reminded herself, this was the life that her mother had chosen.

  “I don’t care. I just can’t face it here right now.”

  “You’re probably right,” Jasmine said. “People will be all over you with questions. We can’t risk you answering something the wrong way. No offense, Ellie. But you know how people take things out of context and run with it.” She heard Jasmine clicking away on her laptop and Ellie wondered how many other tasks Jasmine was simultaneously performing while on this call.