“Thanks,” Bree squeaked.
“I have to go now. Sorry.” Yvonne turned and skittered out the door.
Bree leaned against the wall, feeling dizzy and disoriented. Maurice. Her entire body shook with horror and anger. Had Maurice ruined her boarding school career before it had even started?
Amir appeared in the arched doorway, frowning at her in concern.
“You okay?”
“I have to...” Bree whirled around before she could finish her sentence, fleeing the dining hall. She sprinted across the damp green lawns, wishing she could take off and fly away like one of those fat old great horned owls. The ancient buildings of Bridgeport towered on either side of her, their windows glowering. The bite of salmon rebelled in her stomach, and Bree slowed to a walk. She’d wanted to come to boarding school to start afresh, to become the girl she’d always wanted to be, to be a fabulous new, better version of herself. It was going to be a lot harder than she’d thought.
ZaneTaylor: I’m right outside. Wanna check if the coast is clear?
CrystalAlexander: Hold on.
CrystalAlexander: OK, I just pressed my ear to Angelica’s door, and I hear the TV. Loud. Looks good.
ZaneTaylor: Cool. C u in a sec.
11
“You stink.”
Bree woke with a start. Where was she? Oh, right. Bridgeport. In her room. “I mean seriously, you really stink. Are you drunk?” someone whispered.
Was that Crystal, talking in her sleep? Bree had heard her come in: thankfully, it had been after she’d stopped sobbing into her pillow. She’d taken her clothes off in the dark, said “nighty-night,” and snuggled under the covers.
“I’m not drunk,” another voice slurred. A guy’s voice.
“Well, you stink like vodka. Ew.”
“I love it when you say I smell,” the guy said.
“Shh. Pardee will hear.”
Bree inched further beneath her covers. The voice sounded vaguely familiar. And whoever it was did stink—Bree could smell something vaguely alcoholic, even though the windows were wide open and the cool night breeze was wafting though the room.
“Well, it would be nice, Zane, if you didn’t stink, 'cause then I wouldn’t have to taste it in your mouth.”
Zane?
Bree’s stomach dropped. How many Zanes went to this school?
“You sure nobody’s here?” he asked.
“Do you see anybody here?” Crystal hissed.
Bree stayed curled in a ball. Crystal had seen her. She’d even said goodnight to her! Bree wanted to leave them alone, but getting up and making noise right now would be very uncool. And what if Zane saw her? She was sure her crush on him would shine right through her. To think that she had developed an immediate crush on her roommate’s boyfriend! Old Bree strikes again.
Her eyes adjusted to the dark and she peeked out from under the covers. Crystal’s bed was less than four feet away. There was a flash of naked skin in the moonlight. “Condom,” Bree heard Crystal whisper.
A pause. Then Zane’s voice. “Serious? Where?”
“Top drawer.”
Bree heard fumbling in the dark. Then a scuffling of covers, and thump! Zane was halfway on the floor. He tried to get his balance but held on to the night table and ended up dragging it down with him. It made a horrible amount of noise. A box of Lifestyles Extra Lubricated condoms spilled out, along with a big bottle of lotion and a package of blue Bic pens.
Bree shot up in bed, staring at Zane’s sprawled, naked body.
“Yo,” Zane drawled, grinning up at her. “I know you.”
“Eep!” Bree slunk back under the covers.
“Crystal, you said nobody was here,” Zane whispered loudly.
Crystal kicked the mattress angrily. “This is ridiculous,” she sighed, and got out of bed.
Bree peeked out from under the covers and saw the outline of Crystal’s lithe body. She wore a pink bra with a pointy-toothed Lacoste alligator emblazoned on the strap. Where was Naomi, anyway?
Crystal glanced over at the lump that was Bree under the blankets. “Sorry, Bree.” She shrugged, then stomped over Zane, stepping on his hand as she headed for the door.
“Oww!” He cried out in pain. “Where are you going?”
“Bathroom.” Crystal flung the door open, and the room grew bright with fluorescent hallway light. Bree buried herself deeper under the covers, mortified. She’s leaving us alone? she wondered, horrified.
She heard Zane sit up, crack his neck, then sniff. “So, is Bree short for Brianna?”
“Well, yeah,” Bree croaked, still huddled under the covers.
“Didn’t mean to make you so uncomfortable, Bree,” he continued.
“Not a problem,” she murmured into her pillow. It smelled dusty and warm, like her Upper West Side home. She was glad she’d brought it, but it suddenly made her feel so homesick that she nearly burst into tears.
“You can stop hiding. I’m decent.”
Bree peeped over the blanket with one eye. Zane had put his underwear back on, but that was all. His stomach was flat and muscular. And his boxers had a sailboat pattern she remembered from the Ralph Lauren catalog. She wrenched her eyes away.
It was stiflingly hot under the covers. She sat up a bit, hoping that Crystal would come back any second and take Zane someplace else so that he wouldn’t have time to take in Bree’s swollen eyes and bed-head. She couldn’t even imagine what she must look like right now, especially compared to Crystal.
But apparently Zane didn’t mind. He got off the floor and sat down on the edge of Bree’s bed. If she hadn’t been completely stunned, she might have made room. But instead she stayed still. He was pressed right up against her.
“I was wondering when I’d get to meet you properly,” he mumbled, so quietly that Bree could barely hear.
“What?” Bree asked, even though she’d heard him fine.
“Nothing.” Zane looked up. “Oh. The Seven Sisters.”
“What?”
“The constellation.” Zane pointed to the crusty old glow-in-the-dark stars someone had stuck to the ceiling years ago. “Although to the naked eye there are only six stars easily visible.”
“Huh.” Bree didn’t know how to respond—not only to what Zane had just said but to this situation, period. Her dream crush was sitting on her bed. Old Bree was totally horrified. New Bree was practically quivering. Blended together, both Brees were immobile and tongue-tied.
She looked at the outline of Zane’s long, athletic-looking feet. His second toes were longer than his first. What was that a sign of again? Wait. Hello? Was that his hand on her back?
Okay. This was all wrong. Where was Crystal, anyway? This was very wrong. Bree knew she should swat him away. But she just...couldn’t.
“Uh, do you know a lot about constellations?” she asked instead.
Zane moved his hand slightly, his thumb rubbing the base of her spine. Wrong, wrong, wrong! “There’s not much else to do in Lexington at night.” He sighed. “Unless you want to climb up the water tower or throw shit onto the train tracks.”
“I’m from New York,” Bree whispered, biting a tendril of her hair to keep her teeth from rattling with nervousness. “Although you probably know that already.”
“Huh?”
“You know,” she shifted, her cheeks growing hot. It was horrifying to think that he’s already heard things—slutty things— about her.
“Nope. I don’t. Are you famous?”
“I...” She cleared her throat. How could Yvonne know the gossip about her and not this beautiful boy? “No. I guess not.”
“Well, that’s too bad.” Zane smiled. “And here I thought I was in the presence of a celebrity.”
Bree felt his hand on the small of her back again. It felt warm through the blanket.
“Jesus Christ!”
Bree and Zane turned around quickly. Mr. Pardee. The dorm mistress’s husband, who also happened to be Bridgeport’s most assholish French teacher, had
pushed the door open all the way. Bree saw a note scrawled on their white board: Studying in Benny’s room. – Naomi. Mr. Pardee was dressed in a hooded Bridgeport football sweatshirt and a pair of red plaid pajama pants. His low-cut afro stood up in Brillo clumps on his head, and his tiny silver stud earring glinted in the harsh light of the hall.
Zane quickly jumped off Bree’s bed, pulled on his jeans, and grabbed his shirt.
“Dude.” He strode right up to Mr. Pardee. “I was never here.”
“You weren’t...what?” Mr. Pardee said, blinking furiously.
“You don’t see me.”
“Zane, I do see you.” Pardee sounded as if he were trying to convince himself. “You’ve used this line on me before.”
“Nope,” Zane replied. “I was never here.” He dashed into the hall.
“Wait—where are you going?” Mr. Pardee shouted. But it was too late. He shook his head and turned back to Bree. Not knowing exactly what to do, she hadn’t moved. Mr. Pardee might have been the dorm mistress’s husband, but Bree had heard he was also a total druggie. Supposedly, he only graded the French exams after smoking a spliff or two.
Maybe he was too wasted right now to even know what was going on?
“That wasn’t cool.” Mr. Pardee burped slightly. “No guys in the room except during visiting hour.”
“I know, but—” Bree sputtered.
“Man.” Mr. Pardee was glaring at the condoms on the floor. No one had bothered to pick them up yet. “This doesn’t look good.”
“What’s going on?” Crystal stood in the doorway, right behind him.
“I’m gonna have to report this,” the teacher announced through a stoned yawn. “I mean, Angelica will have to—”
“No, wait!” Bree pleaded. She couldn’t possibly be in trouble on the first day of school.
“Hello?” Crystal repeated. “What’s going on?” Bree noticed Mr. Pardee eyeing the sliver of skin between Crystal’s low-hanging shorts and her mesh camisole. The alligator on her bra peeked through its tiny holes.
“Zane was in here,” he stated matter-of-factly.
“Zane?!” Crystal replied in a shocked tone, as if Mr. Pardee had said, I saw monkeys drinking beer!
“Where were you?” Pardee asked.
Crystal scowled and rolled her eyes. “I was in the library. I’m just getting back.”
Bree stared at her incredulously. Pardee seemed to buy this story, even though it was the middle of the night and Crystal was hardly wearing any clothes, no shoes, and didn’t have a backpack or any books on her.
“So what was Zane doing here?” Crystal glared at Bree as if to say, Don’t fuck this up.
Mr. Pardee raised an eyebrow. “Well?”
A suspicious, hurt look clouded Crystal’s face. It was an acting job worthy of an Oscar. “Was something...going on?”
Mr. Pardee shuffled his feet. “They were in bed together.”
“But we weren’t doing anything!” Bree defended.
“Then why does it look like a Costco-size box of condoms exploded in here?” Mr. Pardee demanded.
Crystal rolled her eyes. “I can’t believe it. You little bitch!” she shouted at Bree, yanking up her shirt in frustration to expose her stomach. Mr. Pardee stared hungrily at her field hockey-toned midriff. Crystal wiggled her eyebrows at Bree. Keep going, she mouthed.
Bree’s eyes widened. She wasn’t going to let Crystal make her take blame for this!
“Mr. Pardee, this is a big misunderstanding,” Bree pleaded, not even caring that the tone of her voice was getting squeaky. “I really wasn’t doing anything!”
But Mr. Pardee shrugged. “We’ll find out in DC.”
“What?” Bree said.
“Disciplinary Committee, whore bag,” Crystal spat.
“Crystal, enough!” Mr. Pardee commanded. “Bree, do you know who your adviser is?”
“It’s, um, Mr. Dalton?” That was what the welcome-to-Bridgeport letter addressed to Mister Brianna Hargrove had said, anyway.
“Right. He’s new. Okay. You’ll report to Stansfield Hall to Mr. Dalton’s office at nine-thirty tomorrow. I’m not sure which room he’s in, but check the map on the first floor. He’ll evaluate your situation before it gets kicked up to DC.” He fiddled with his earring. “Got that? Good. I have to go find Zane now...”
When she was sure he was gone, Crystal shut the door and let out a huge sigh. “Oh my God. So close.”
“Whore bag?” Bree’s voice trembled.
“Sorry about that,” Crystal sighed, sitting on her bed and staring at Bree with her enormous hazel eyes. “I had to make sure Mr. Pardee believed I was pissed...”
“Well, he believed it all right.”
Crystal shrugged. “It’s not a big deal.”
Bree scrunched up her face. “Not a big deal? I have to go in front of...a committee! What happens there, anyway?”
Crystal leaned over and picked up one of the wrapped condoms. “You’re new, you’re a girl, and I heard you’re smart. They’ll go easy on you.” She rubbed the square packet between her fingers. “Maybe you could use your Raves connections.”
“What are you talking about?” Was Crystal being sarcastic? Bree had never even told Crystal about the Raves. And what would the Disciplinary Committee make her do? Snorkel for trash in the Hudson? What if it went on her permanent record?
“Look,” Crystal began. “Naomi’s on the committee. She’ll make sure you get off. If I’d gotten caught with Zane, they would’ve kicked me out. I’ve already been caught doing stuff here.”
“Oh?” Bree said curiously.
“Yeah, I already have, like, two strikes against me. Three and you’re out.”
“Oh.” Bree felt somewhat relieved. So this was her first strike. That wasn’t so bad.
“It would really suck if I got expelled.” Crystal tore open the condom with her fingernail. “My parents would make me to go public school in Atlanta. Kids sneak guns and cans of Miller Lite past the metal detectors there. Even the girls!” She stared down at Bree. “Could you imagine me at public school?”
Crystal was way too beautiful to go to public school. Then Bree stopped herself, remembering she wasn’t supposed to be all suck-uppy with an older girl the way Old Bree had been with Chanel Crenshaw back at Willard. She closed her eyes and willed herself to stop. New Bree, New Bree, New Bree.
Crystal pulled out the yellowish condom and inserted her pointer finger into its open end. “I have to make it through this year without getting busted.”
Bree sighed resignedly. She loved everything about Bridgeport—the woodsiness, the New England-style brick buildings, that the teachers wore blazers to class and often had the title of doctor, even the succulent wasabi salmon that everybody shunned. She wanted to row on the river and go to the Spring Fling and meet boys from other prep schools and return to Manhattan triumphant, because she was now a boarding school girl. She didn’t want it fucked up like this right off the bat, and yet here she was again, the most talked about girl on campus and already in trouble before classes had even started.
Crystal twirled the condom around on her finger. “Everything will be fine,” she assured Bree. “Seriously. They’ll give you restricted study. Or no visitation. But Naomi’s on DC.” She smiled sweetly as if to say, I’ll be your best friend forever and ever if you help me out.
“I just don’t know.” Bree wrung her hands in her lap. As much as she wanted to be friends with Crystal, she didn’t want to be in trouble. Not at all. “I’ll have to think about it.”
“I totally understand! Take your time! Think about it! But you aren’t going to get in trouble. It’s really, really, really not a big deal.”
“Yeah, but...” Bree bit her lip. “I don’t know...”
Crystal sprang off her bed, darted to her closet, and opened up the door. “And here—for your meeting with your adviser tomorrow, you’ll want to look as professional as possible. You want to borrow something of mine? Seriously. Any
thing.” She ran her hand down the rack of gorgeous, perfectly pressed designer clothes.
“Really?” Bree stood up and peeked into Crystal’s closet with her. The weight of the situation slowly began to sink in. Would Crystal have offered up anything in her closet before Mr. Pardee had caught Zane in the room? No way. Bree felt a strange, heady rush of power, a rush so intense it kind of freaked her out.
“Seriously. Anything I can do. I’ll totally make this the best year of your life,” Crystal offered enthusiastically.
Bree pulled a sleek black Fendi dress from off its white satin hanger and held it up to herself. The best year of her life? She could really use a year like that...
MauriceJohnson: So were they really having sex?? Could u hear them thru the walls?
EmilyJenkins: It was so LOUD I had to put my sound machine on city traffic to block out the noise!
MauriceJohnson: Were they knocking against the wall?
EmilyJenkins: Totally. I got negative sleep.
MauriceJohnson: Nice.
SageFrancis: Did u know some freshman girls are drawing ponies on their marker boards? They don’t even know Maurice. They just think it’s the cool thing 2 do!
AlisonQuentin: Maurice is running out of options...He’ll probably move on 2 freshmen next...
12
The next morning, Bree stood near the closets, surveying the quiet, sun-dappled dorm room. Today was only Thursday, the first day of classes, but already the room looked lived-in: books and papers everywhere, clothes heaped on the floor, makeup, shampoo and nail polish bottles strewn on top of desks, piles of notebooks and textbooks, unopened packages of highlighters, and a large aloe plant teetering on the narrow windowsill. Bree had arrived almost two days ago, but it still didn’t feel like her dorm room, since she’d hardly had a moment in it alone. Naomi’s bed was empty—she’d snuck in after all the commotion last night and must have gotten up early. There was an imprint in the mattress where her body had been. Crystal was still sound asleep, curled up in the fetal position.
Bree ran her hand over a pile of Crystal’s soft cashmere cardigans. All of Crystal’s clothes were beautiful, but this morning Bree felt awkward about borrowing any of them. Instead, she slipped on her own Banana-Republic-but-looks-like-Prada shiny khaki skirt, her only Calvin Klein button-down shirt, and a pair of baby-pink ballet flats. She put on her Bridgeport blazer and assessed the look. Definitely Not Guilty.
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