Georgetown Academy 1 and 2

by Jessica Etting

  “I might’ve done it for you,” she told Brooks, “But I won’t do it for her. Nothing’s going to change my mind.”

  When Taryn got home, she went straight to her laptop, opening up the Washington Post website, adrenaline surging through her veins. She was going to beat Brinley Madison at her own game.

  She glanced around the website, trying to figure out the best way to proceed. She had never leaked information on anyone before. It wasn’t a “Letter to the Editor” situation exactly, she needed to find the proper person to tell.

  Finally, she clicked on the button that read Contact Us. A list of reporters’ names popped up with their individual extensions listed next to them. Her heartbeat accelerated. This was it. But how could she decide which one would be best?

  Her eyes settled on the name Emily Dorsett. Her photo thumbnail showed a thirty-something woman with pretty naturally curly hair and an expression that said she didn’t suffer fools lightly. The archives revealed she had written several articles about the pharmaceutical industry in the past and the more Taryn read, the more she realized this Emily Dorsett was the perfect person to leak the story to.

  Taryn took a deep breath as she dialed the number and extension for Emily. She listened to the automated voice instructing her to leave a message, then had a split-second of doubt. Was this really who she wanted to be? Someone who stooped down to the level of Brinley Madison?

  But she knew she didn’t have a choice. This was who she had to be now if she was going to survive at G.A. The sound of the beep filled the phone.

  “Hello, this message is for Emily. I have some information about the daughter of an important D.C. family who is addicted to illegal pharmaceutical drugs.” Taryn ignored the tiny nagging voice of guilt telling her to hang up.

  “I’m willing to give you the exclusive story,” she continued, parroting something she had heard her father’s advisor, Charlie, say numerous times to the press. “So please call me back.”

  Taryn rattled off her cell phone number and hung up.

  Now all she had to do was wait for the phone to ring.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Wednesday, 10:37pm.

  “Do you want any more vodka in yours, Evan?” Ellie asked, holding up a bottle of Ketel One. They were in Narc’s dad and Evan’s boss, Paul Nelson’s home office and Evan was admiring all the magazines and books on his shelves, trying not to look like she was snooping. Ellie and Brinley lounged on the toffee-colored leather couch nearby and Ellie was actually smiling. She seemed in a markedly better mood from earlier today and Evan couldn’t help but feel their reconciliation had a lot to do with that. It made her appreciate their friendship even more.

  “Nope, I’m good,” Evan replied. The vodka soda she had made for herself earlier had about a micro-milliliter of vodka in it. She had never been drunk before, but from what she’d seen of it, the whole thing looked kind of unpleasant.

  “Refill me. I’m so stressed out,” Brinley said, holding out her glass. Evan had not been thrilled when she realized she and Ellie were going to the party with Brinley, but she vowed to have a different attitude this time around. And Brinley had been surprisingly cordial so far except for the one disdainful look she gave toward Evan’s striped long-sleeved tee when Evan walked in.

  “Is Brooks on his way? You can ask him to pick up some more Ketel,” Ellie said to Brinley, pouring the last remnants of the bottle into Brinley’s glass.

  “No, he’s running an errand for me right now,” she responded curtly. Evan had never exchanged one word with Brinley’s brother, but he scared the living crap out of her.

  Evan heard her phone chime, indicating a text. It was probably Luke. When she had seen him at school earlier, she told him that Samantha had been emailing and calling her twice a day to check in on her progress. Apparently, Samantha still hadn’t found a second source and was counting on Evan to confirm the story before another news outlet yanked it out from under them. Luke said he and his parents still hadn’t decided how they wanted to handle everything. She had already left him a couple of messages before the party tonight, worried about how he was doing. She dug into her bag and her heart leapt out of her chest. The text was from Hunter.

  Want to work at my house tomorrow?

  Evan instinctively covered up her phone so Ellie didn’t see. That was ridiculous, though. He was texting her about their history project meeting. It wasn’t like he was asking her out.

  Evan flushed at the thought of actually being in Hunter’s house. Where would they work? Would they go into his bedroom? What if his desk only had one chair? They would have to sit on his bed. A whole new wave of nerves shot through her body.

  Brinley’s voice brought Evan back to reality. “I’m just saying if Taryn tries out for lacrosse next week, I’m quitting the team. You know she’s probably never even picked up a stick. I’m sure they only have beach volleyball or team yoga at whatever exceedingly liberal school she went to in L.A. She should just go back there where she belongs.”

  “What is your problem with her, Brin? She’s already a social pariah after someone started that Percocet rumor.”

  “Rumor? Who says it’s not true?” Brinley asked.

  “I doubt it. I feel bad for her,” Ellie responded.

  One of Evan’s biggest assumptions for the last two years was that Ellie had morphed into a totally different person. She was relieved that wasn’t the case. Evan looked back down at her phone with a sickening feeling of guilt. Ellie was beyond depressed about her break-up and here was Evan, trying to capitalize on it. It was shameful. She would just respond something to Hunter and get it over with so she could focus on Ellie.

  How about the Folger Shakespeare Library? She quickly typed. It was her favorite spot to study and she would feel a lot less stressed if they worked in a place where she felt comfortable.

  Evan put her phone down and sat on the ottoman across from Brinley and Ellie, the soft leather crinkling underneath her jeans.

  “So, Elle, now that your PTSD is slightly wearing off, we need to discuss the ‘Get Hunter Back’ initiative,” Brinley said firmly. Evan squirmed in her seat a little. “You should try to sit close to the front during Assembly tomorrow,” Brinley continued, “The whole basketball team is going to be up there getting that community service award or whatever so when Hunter looks out into the crowd, he should see you smiling up at him.”

  Ellie nodded, seriously, as if implanting the suggestion into her brain so that she wouldn’t forget tomorrow. Evan had no idea Brinley had such a reassuring, supportive side to her. She was begrudgingly impressed even though the “Get Hunter Back” initiative was not her favorite choice of topics.

  Brinley was suddenly now looking at Evan, mischievously. “Hey, Evan, aren’t you partnered with Hunter on that asinine history project?”

  “Yup. We’re, um, meeting tomorrow after school,” Evan said, wanting to bury her phone even further in her bag.

  “You should put in a good word for Ellie.” The gold flecks in Brinley’s eyes twinkled at the brilliance of her own idea. Ellie must have agreed because she was staring at Evan with a look of desperate hope.

  Evan felt the weight of it. “I’ll definitely try to say something. Whatever I can do to help.” She would decide later how exactly she was going to tell the guy she had been in love with since junior high that he should get back together with his ex-girlfriend.

  “Thanks, Evan,” Ellie said. “You’re the best.” Yeah, right. If she only knew how much Evan had been fantasizing about Hunter since their break-up. When she used to see Ellie and Hunter together, she tried to shut off that part of her brain to save herself the heartache, but it was pretty much impossible. She was just going to have to try harder now.

  “Oh, I forgot to tell you, Elle,” Brinley exclaimed, throwing her legs across Ellie’s lap. “My friend, Sarah, is compiling a list of every student who’s ever interned for Senator Mills’s campaign. She thinks that old Dick probably enlisted one of them to go
to the rookie party, looking for a photo-op of you and Gabe.”

  Ellie flinched at the sound of his name. She had steered the conversation away from him all evening almost as if that could make him cease to exist entirely.

  Suddenly, Evan’s phone beeped again. Another text from Hunter.

  Wherefore art time should I meet you?

  Evan abruptly stood up and walked across the room, trying to force down the sides of her mouth that wanted to wiggle their way into a smile. Why did he have to say something so adorable? She pretended to put more soda in her drink while she stared at the text.

  “Everything is going to get better, Elle” she could hear Brinley saying. “Maybe you should ask Taryn for some Percocet to numb the pain.”

  Brinley appeared to be mildly obsessed with Taryn Reyes, but at least she and Ellie weren’t talking about Hunter anymore.

  5pm doth works for me, Evan finally texted back. She wasn’t really being flirty. She was just trying to stay in theme. Her phone immediately lit up with another text.

  Looking forward to it.

  Was she supposed to text back again? Or did that make her one of those annoying people who felt the need to keep sending texts long after the chain should have ended? On the other hand, she didn’t want him to think that she wasn’t looking forward to it. In fact, she really wished that she wasn’t.

  Me too, she typed. She should put a winky face. No, way too aggressive. Maybe just a smiley face.

  Narc poked his head in the room interrupting her emoticon debate. “Lights out on the Capitol, girls,” he said.

  Evan looked out the window at the impressive view of the Capitol building. The lantern on top of the dome had, in fact, gone out, which meant Congress was officially out of session for the day. Evan didn’t know why this was so important, though.

  Ellie smiled at her from across the room, reading her thoughts just like in the old days. “That’s why we like to get together at Narc’s. None of us miss curfew because we know exactly when our parents are heading home.”

  “That’s pretty brilliant,” Evan marveled.

  “For those of you who have curfews. My parents don’t believe in the whole paternalistic notion of them,” Brinley said, standing and grabbing her purse, which looked like an entire alligator had been skinned to make it. Evan didn’t have a curfew either, but that had more to do with the fact she never stayed out late rather than her parents trying to preserve the sanctity of her personal liberties.

  “I’m going to run to the bathroom. I’ll meet you guys out front,” Brinley said over her shoulder as she walked in the opposite direction.

  Evan followed Ellie down the bright white staircase lined with shiny dark wood that looked like it was polished every day.

  “I’m really glad you came,” Ellie said to her.

  “Me too,” Evan replied honestly.

  “Tonight was the first time since Friday that I haven’t felt like crying every five minutes. And maybe Brinley’s right. Maybe Hunter will come around. It feels like forever, but it’s really only been a few days.”

  Evan forced her head into a nod of agreement as they passed by the expansive living room. A few people lounged on the dark, antique furniture. Jenny Lim was sitting on a crimson loveseat in the center, scrunched between Nora and Liesel, G.A.’s biggest social climbers. They were laughing loudly at something Jenny was saying, which was probably not nearly as funny as they were making it out to be. Ellie must have noticed it, too, because an expression of disgust had planted itself firmly on her face.

  “So how long do you think it took for them to get in with Jenny?” Evan whispered.

  Ellie rolled her eyes in their direction. “I have a feeling they sunk their claws in so fast, they didn’t even leave a mark.”

  A few minutes later, on her way home, Evan jumped at the sound of her ringing phone. It was Luke.

  “Hey,” she answered.

  “Where are you?”

  “I’m on my way home.”

  “I’ll meet you out front,” he said, then hung up without saying good-bye. He sounded tense. She wondered what decision he and his parents had made about the Samantha situation.

  A few minutes later, Evan parked in front of her small townhouse and found Luke sitting on the stoop, his arms draped over his long legs.

  “What did you guys decide?” she asked, sitting down next to him and pulling her puffy jacket tighter to keep warm.

  “We spent the last five hours going back and forth trying to figure it out. Clearly, I can’t Anderson Cooper it for the next ten years and pretend it’s not happening. And the Neil Patrick Harris slash Lance Bass slash Clay Aiken People cover route seems way too melodramatic. But then, we thought if I come out on CNN or the nightly news, I could run the risk of becoming some gay poster child where everyone expects me to throw on sequins and compete on Dancing with the Stars.”

  “You would totally win, though,” Evan added supportively.

  “I know, but that’s not the point. Every scenario we thought of makes my dad either look like a raging hypocrite, a liar, or a horrible father,” Luke continued.

  She was about to ask what options that left them with, but her phone beeped and she couldn’t help but glance down. Another text from Hunter.

  Never been to the Shakespeare library. Are tights optional?

  Evan bit her lip, trying not to dwell on the fact that Hunter totally didn’t have to text her back, but was choosing to keep the conversation going.

  “Evan?” Luke gave her a piercing look.

  Evan swallowed guiltily. “I’m so sorry, Luke.”

  “Did you hear what I just said?”

  “No, but you have my undivided attention now,” Evan responded, throwing her phone back into her bag.

  “I said my parents and I think the best solution is for you to pretend to be my girlfriend.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Wednesday, 11:56pm.

  “You said not to worry!” Brinley said, her voice reaching impossible octaves as she washed the party make-up off her face with such vigor that she almost rubbed the skin raw.

  “I did everything I could, Brin,” Brooks said, his eyes flashing through her bathroom mirror. “For God’s sake, I had to eat tart frozen yogurt and pretend to like it. I had to sprinkle my own toppings with a communal spoon! So don’t tell me I didn’t go above and beyond!”

  “But you said even if she knew something you could talk her out of it.”

  “Yeah, and you told me she was going to be easy to manipulate!”

  “She should’ve been.”

  “She’s tougher than she looks, Brin.”

  Brinley exhaled, trying to calm her jumpy heart. She had been planning on coming home from Narc’s, hearing from Brooks that the night was a stellar success, then taking an Ambien and catching up on some of the sleep she had missed all week. But now she’d never be able to sleep. Not only did Taryn know Brinley’s dirty secret, but she was planning to do something about it.

  “Maybe if you hadn’t started that rumor about her, I would have had a little room to charm her,” Brooks said reproachfully. “But she wants her revenge. And I can’t really blame her.”

  “You sound like you’re on her side,” Brinley said bitterly.

  “Obviously not. But it was immature of you to start that whole thing. Her family could be important to us.”

  “Who cares about that? What about me?” Brinley asked. “What do we do now? I don’t want to wait for her next move.”

  “I think it’s time to bring in the big guns,” Brooks told her seriously.

  “You’re right,” Brinley agreed, though a nervous pit was forming in her stomach, “We need to ask Daddy.”

  The following morning at six am, Brinley, Brooks, and their father, Thomas, congregated around the antique dining room table that dated back to the Civil War era to powwow before Thomas left for his office. Brinley’s mother was still asleep for which Brinley was momentarily thankful, though she was not lo
oking forward to dealing with her later.

  Brinley’s father leaned forward. He had a commanding presence and looked like an older version of Brooks, with the same stately features and thick head of hair that, even at his age, had not begun to recede.

  “Let’s get started,” he said, sternly. “I have a meeting with Mike Lim in under an hour.”

  “You’re consulting for him now, Daddy?” Brinley asked, partially because she cared and partially to put off the impending conversation just a few seconds longer.

  “I’m helping him capitalize on his newfound success,” he told her. “He has his eye on the chairman position of the Judiciary Committee.”

  “Do you think he’ll get it?” Brooks asked, genuinely curious. He loved nothing more than hearing his father’s seasoned perspective on the political landscape.

  “I never take on a client if they’re destined to fail. That brouhaha between Senator Mills and Walker is the best thing that ever happened to him.” Brinley sighed, thinking about the fact that while Mike Lim was benefiting, poor Ellie was the one who ended up suffering the most from the whole situation.

  “Let’s move on to the incident at hand,” her father said, “Brinley, I need a firm handle on what’s going on. If you don’t tell me the truth, I can’t fix this.” Brinley nodded, amenably. This was what her father did all day long as a political strategy consultant, which was really just a fancy term that meant politicians, companies, and other organizations with vested interests in D.C. paid him exorbitant amounts of money to help them wade through whatever sticky situations they found themselves in. When a defense contractor wanted to make sure its jet program stayed off the chopping block, her father could call up his weekend golf buddy, the chairman of the House Appropriations Committee, and make sure he knew just how many jobs that would cost in his district—maybe even his own. If a tech company had a million dollars and a bill they wanted to pass, he always knew how to flow those dollars into just the right pockets.