BRIDGEPORT ACADEMY #1

by Ashley Valentine

  Crystal sat down on one of the leather chairs. It was cold against the backs of her legs, and she immediately got goosebumps. “Maybe we could reenact that night?” she said softly, pulling at Zane’s pale gray T-shirt. “Here, why don’t you get comfortable?”

  She stood and gently pushed Zane into a brown leather club chair. She sat in his lap and started kissing his neck. Zane slid his hand under her paper-thin white T-shirt and fingered her white bra.

  This was perfect. The musty smell of the old books, the sensual glow of the stained glass lamp in the corner, the stillness of everything. Crystal felt like she was being naughty in her father’s reading room, or like she was a frustrated woman from the 1700s who was getting a little action before they all had high tea. It seemed like something out of a novel.

  Then she noticed that Zane’s eyes were open. Wide open.

  “What?” she asked, pulling back.

  “I think that’s a first-edition Of Mice and Men,” he murmured, leaning forward to get a better look. “I didn’t notice it here before...”

  Crystal let out a frustrated little squeal and pulled her knees up to her chin, cuffing Zane in the jaw as she did.

  “What?” Zane shot back.

  “Never mind,” she said quietly, realizing that the hurt in her voice was coming through way more than she wanted it to. She tried not to let the feeling that this perfect moment with Zane had just been ruined settle into her consciousness. Too late. She tried to steady her voice so it wasn’t so shaky. “So I noticed you’ve been flirting with Bree...”

  Zane backed away from her slightly. “Noticed? What do you mean?”

  “Well, you wrote all over her arm.”

  He licked his lips. “Oh.”

  “So? Is it going okay?”

  “I guess.”

  “Have any teachers seen you, you know, flirting?”

  “Um, just Mrs. Silver, I guess...” Zane stood up and scratched his jaw.

  Not good enough. It didn’t matter if Mrs. Silver had seen them—she wasn’t friends with Ms. Emory. “Maybe you guys could flirt near the orchestra practice rooms?” Ms. Emory conducted Bridgeport’s orchestra, the Fermatas, on Sundays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays.

  A long silence followed. Crystal could hear the tree branches scrape against the windows.

  Finally, Zane spoke. “All you care about is whether or not you get in trouble, don’t you?”

  “No!” she squeaked. “Of course not! I just—”

  He held up his hand. “This isn’t right. It wasn’t Bree’s fault. I don’t think we should drag her into this, and I don’t think she should have to take the fall for you.”

  “What are you saying?” Crystal demanded. “You don’t care if I get kicked out?” She felt tears spring to her eyes and quickly jammed her finger into her mouth. She bit hard, nearly drawing blood.

  “No, of course I care, but—”

  Crystal shook her head. She could feel her pulse in her neck. “No. You obviously don’t. If you cared, you’d do whatever it took to keep me here.”

  “Well, why would I want to keep you here if all you do is manipulate me?” Zane retorted loudly, his voice echoing through the silent library.

  Crystal’s mouth dropped open. “Excuse me?”

  “You heard what I said,” he whispered fiercely.

  “Take that back.”

  Zane sighed. “Crystal... ” He trailed off, looking at her like he had no idea what to do with her.

  She wasn’t sure what possessed her to say what she said next, but she said it anyway: “You know, Amir would do this for me.”

  “Amir?” Zane asked. “Amir...Phillips?” he scoffed.

  Crystal snapped back. “Yeah, Amir! At least Amir—”

  “At least he what?”

  Paid attention to me, Crystal thought. At least I knew where I stood. She swallowed hard and turned toward the window. Right outside, two owls huddled together on a tree branch. They looked like they were kissing.

  Zane paced around the room. “So, what, you want to break up with me to go out with Amir again?”

  Crystal gasped. “I didn’t say that! Do you want to break up?” Her heart began to really pound. Was this it? All of a sudden she felt woozy and nauseated, as if she were about to fall off an endless cliff and was scrambling to hold on to its rocky side.

  “Just stop manipulating me,” Zane blurted out sternly. “If you think Amir—who, by the way, is so gay—would do this for you, maybe you should be going out with him after all.”

  “At least he loved me!” she pleaded. “At least Amir wanted to have sex!”

  Her words hung in the air for a moment. Zane’s lips parted, as if he were about to say something. But then a knock sounded at the heavy oak door. They both froze.

  “Hello?” called a low voice. It was Mr. Haim, the nasal-voiced, grumpy general librarian. “Problem in there?”

  Crystal glared at Zane, baring her teeth before answering sweetly, “We’re just studying!”

  “You have to keep it down,” Mr. Haim whispered. He opened the door and stuck his head through the crack. “We don’t tolerate noise in this room.”

  “Whatever,” Zane yelled, flipping his middle finger up in the air and straightening his shirt. “I’m out of here.” He brushed by Mr. Haim without even looking back at Crystal to say goodbye.

  “This is a place of peaceful research,” Mr. Haim recited, tightening his Bridgeport tie almost to the point of asphyxiation. “We don’t tolerate yelling.”

  “I said I was sorry!” Crystal screamed.

  “You’re still yelling.”

  She rolled her eyes. What the hell had just happened? She clomped down the marble stairs that led into the main lobby of the library. Out a tall, narrow window, she saw the same cuddling owls, this time on a lower tree branch. She stopped and knocked on the pane, causing the owls to ruffle their feathers and flutter to separate trees.

  “Get a room!” she yelled.

  To: Undisclosed list

  From: CelineColista@bridgeport.edu

  Time: Friday, September 6, 9:02 P.M.

  Subject: TOP SECRET

  Dumbarton pre–Black Saturday Party:

  Welcome to Agrabah, City of Mystery and Enchantment.

  GIRLS ONLY!

  TEN MINUTES!

  MOVE YOUR ASS!

  25

  Crystal was wearing the new fringed Prada dress she’d bought at Pimpernel’s, a multicolored headscarf, and four-inch-high silver Manolos. Her long jet-black hair was swept up into a sexy, Asian-inspired bun, and she’d put thick kohl eyeliner around her eyes. She knew the other girls would be jealous, but that was the point. Sometimes it was more fun to dress up when there weren’t boys around.

  The pre-Black Saturday party was a tradition for Dumbarton girls. It was incredibly cool because there was a select guest list and there was always a wild theme. Benny Cunningham and Celine Colista had skipped out of field hockey practice early to convert the top-level common room into an Arabian Nights wonderland. They’d closed the giant bay window curtains so the whole room was shadowy and mysterious. Then they added twinkling lights, candles, pillows, incense, Grey Goose vodka, mini joints, pictures of elephants and multiarmed gods on the wall, and carefully placed Kama Sutras, which everybody knew were ancient sex manuals from India, and some bizarre, sexy music Benny had gotten FedExed from Amazon.com the night before. The room was all set up for a wild orgy, except for the fact that there were no boys.

  Crystal had arrived early and was drinking quickly and steadily, trying to put the whole Zane-in-the-rare-book-room nightmare out of her mind. She refilled her drink and headed toward the little window seat in the corner and suddenly collided with Naomi, who had just arrived.

  “Oh!” They eyed one another intensely. Naomi still had on what she’d worn to class, boring maroon trousers and a white button-down. Hello? It was totally against the rules to wear that kind of thing to the pre-Black Saturday party! “So, how’s Corey?” Crys
tal asked.

  “Corey?” Naomi gave her a blank look.

  “Your boyfriend?”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  “What, is he not your boyfriend anymore?”

  “No, he...” Naomi was really squirming. Crystal wondered if Sage was wrong—maybe instead of Naomi liking a senior boy, she and Corey had had really bad sex. Or, maybe really good sex. Earth to Naomi, not dishing on any kind of sex to your so-called best friend was so not okay.

  Then Naomi narrowed her eyes keenly at Crystal. “And how’s Zane?”

  “Fine.”

  They sat awkwardly on the window seat, looking past each other, sipping from their liquor-filled Bridgeport mugs. Last year, Crystal, Naomi, and Jade had sat around the pre–Black Saturday party in this very same common room, talking about their boyfriends and taking turns refilling one another’s cups. What a difference a year made.

  Crystal tossed her hair behind her shoulder, eyeing her friend. Was it possible Naomi was just waiting for her broach the Jade subject so that Naomi could apologize for getting Jade kicked out? One thing that Naomi had never been good at was making herself vulnerable. “I bet Jade would’ve been really into this party.”

  Naomi flinched, then murmured, “Yeah, she would’ve.”

  “It’s too bad she’s not here,” Crystal continued quietly. Okay, now we’re getting somewhere.

  Naomi straightened up. “Yes, it is too bad she isn’t here, isn’t it?”

  Wait, huh? That wasn’t what Crystal had been expecting Naomi to say. Where was the I’m so sorry, let me tell you what really happened or at least a Let’s forget all of this ever happened and go get drunk in our room and catch up? Instead, the two girls stared at each other like two dogs sniffing one another out, trying to figure out whether they wanted to bark or not. Suddenly, a crazy Hindi techno song blared through the speakers. The rest of the guests had arrived, and the room was jammed with bizarrely dressed girls who stank of perfume.

  “Conga line!” Benny squealed. She wore a lavender towel turban on her head and a scarf around her midriff. Sage grabbed her waist and giggled, a large Bridgeport flag wound around her body, sari style. They passed Crystal and Naomi and giggled.

  “Come on, ladies!” Celine squealed. “Stop with those pissy faces!”

  Naomi, who normally was the life of the party, stood up, brushed off her lap, and shrugged. “I’m out.” Then she turned and strode out of the room.

  Crystal wound a thick piece of her green dress around her middle finger and watched her go. Something buzzed next to her. It was Naomi’s cell phone. The caller ID said Noelle Peterson. Crystal looked up and started to call for Naomi but then stopped. Last year, she always used to answer Naomi’s phone when she left it somewhere. Were things so different this year she couldn’t take the call? She snapped the phone open.

  “Hey, it’s Crystal!”

  “Where are you?” cried Noelle in a sexy, husky smoker’s voice. “Spice Market? It sounds fabulous!”

  Crystal sank back down into the lounge chair. “Nope. Just a dorm party.”

  “I’ve got to do a shoot at your school sometime.”

  “That would be so cool.” Crystal wished Noelle would give some of her enthusiasm to her nasty younger sister. “Should I find Naomi?”

  “Nah, tell her to call me. I’m home visiting our parents in Jersey this weekend.”

  Jersey? As in New Jersey? She’d always thought Naomi was from East Hampton...

  “But listen, Crystal? That teacher my sister’s been hanging around? Like going to dinner with and stuff?”

  “Uh—” Crystal practically choked on a huge sip of punch. What?

  “Eric Dalton? She told you about this, right?”

  “Um, of course.” Crystal’s whole body began to sweat. She’d only eaten a couple of spoonfuls of vanilla yogurt this morning. A mug of vodka punch, and she was drunk. Her head spun: Naomi was keeping more than a few secrets from her, all right.

  Noelle took a deep breath on the other end. “So listen. When I was a senior at Columbia, a friend of mine was sort of Eric Dalton’s girlfriend. And she told me he really gets around. You know what I’m saying?”

  “Of course,” Crystal replied automatically. Maybe Naomi wasn’t acting spacey because she’d slept with Corey. Maybe she was out of it because she’d slept with Eric Dalton. Crystal fumbled in her bag for her cigarettes. How dare Naomi not tell her this major news! Hello, were they just complete strangers now?

  “But how funny,” Bree continued, snorting with laughter. “Maybe they’ll get married! My sister will be a Dalton!”

  Forgetting her buzz, Crystal took another huge gulp of her drink. “Don’t you think she’s a little young for him?”

  “Oh, of course. I would rather he stay fifty feet away from her at all times, but Naomi’s got a good head on her shoulders. Anyway, just be sure to pass on the message? And tell her to call me. Ciao.”

  “Um, okay. Ciao.”

  Crystal stared at the phone’s screen for a long time, mashing her lips together. Finally, she looked up. The conga line was still snaking around the room.

  Fuck it. Vodka punch burning in her stomach, she let out a whoop, grabbed Alison Quentin, who was wearing a vintage couture Alexander McQueen dress and tiny little olive leaves in her hair, and followed the line of gorgeous, drunk, dancing girls out into the hall.

  26

  Amir was cutting across Dumbarton’s sprawling lawn toward Richards when he saw a girl in a flapper-style green dress smoking a cigarette and kicking her legs in the air.

  “Hey, sweetie!” she called. “Come dance with me.”

  Amir walked over and squinted in the light. It was Crystal. Was she trashed? “Hey,” he called out.

  As soon as he got closer, she lunged at him and buried her face in his neck.

  She smelled of fruit punch and cigarettes and that fresh mango shampoo she always used. Amir felt a shudder run through him. Smelling Crystal’s hair conjured up memories of last year. They’d undressed each other under a quilt in the common room late one night and spelled out sexy messages on each other’s bare stomachs. She looked up at him with giant, watery eyes.

  “Amir. Hiiiii.”

  That’s when he got a whiff of her breath. “Whoa.” She was definitely trashed. “You drink the whole bottle yourself?”

  Crystal righted herself and smiled. “I’m cool,” she cooed. “Want some of my cigarette?”

  “No, thanks.”

  Crystal shrugged and stuck it back in her mouth. “So listen,” she slurred, running her long, manicured fingernails up and down his bare arm. “Why were you so mean to me after bio class yesterday?”

  In the porch light, Amir could see little goosebumps on her bare, creamy, honey-colored legs. “About Zane and Bree? I was telling the truth.”

  “No, you weren’t,” she teased, tipsily touching his nose. “Nobody’s stealing anybody away from me. I’m behind the whole thing.”

  Amir scowled. “No, Crystal. Bree likes him. They like each other.”

  Crystal giggled. “That’s because I told them to like each other.”

  “Huh?”

  “I told them to like each other.” She covered her mouth and giggled. “Oops. That was supposed to be a secret.”

  Amir shook his head. “But Bree does like him. And he likes her.”

  “That’s what they’d like you to believe!” Crystal yelled, and then covered her mouth. “Get it?” she slurred more quietly and broke into a goofy grin. “They’re faking it so that I won’t get in trouble for having Zane in my room!”

  Amir stood back and thought for a moment. Yesterday in the quad, Bree had sounded way too genuine to be faking it. “And they both went along with this?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Bree too?”

  “Sure. Bree’s cool.” Crystal flicked the ash off her cigarette, but she was so drunk that it landed right on her big toe, blackening it.

  Amir shook his head. He looked at Cry
stal, who, though hammered, looked as if she’d been secretly crying in the girls’ bathroom for hours. He wanted to cradle her and rock her to sleep.

  “I mean, you’d flirt with another girl if I asked you to, wouldn’t you?” she asked, slurring her words.

  “Uh...no?” Amir stuck his hands in his pockets.

  She looked down, frustrated. “You wouldn’t?”

  Amir lowered his eyes. “If I were going out with you, I wouldn’t even look at another girl.”

  “Oh, Amir,” she sighed. “You’re so cheesy.”

  Funny. He thought girls liked romance.

  She snapped her fingers, brightening. “Hey! So what do you think about Naomi sleeping with that Mr. Dalton guy?”

  “What? I hadn’t heard that.”

  Crystal threw both her hands over her mouth and then slowly removed them. “Maybe I shouldn’t have said that...” She bit her lip. “Oops.”

  “It’s, like, public news?” Amir hadn’t really met Mr. Dalton except at chapel the first day, but it seemed highly sleazy for a teacher to hit on a student, let alone sleep with one.

  “I don’t know.” She looked down at the grass. “I didn’t know, but Naomi doesn’t tell me anything anymore, so...” She trailed off.

  Amir wasn’t sure, but it seemed like she was about to burst into tears.

  “Hey...” He reached his hand out to her. “You okay?”

  Suddenly, Crystal threw her cigarette into the grass, grabbed Amir, and gave him a huge, wet kiss on the mouth. At first he resisted, but after tasting her mint lip gloss, he couldn’t help but melt into her. The kiss felt so good. Warm, soft, and sweet, just like a year ago. He thought of football games wrapped under blankets, the wobbly Metro-North train to the city where she’d fallen asleep in his lap, and playing footsie at formal dinner.

  But then he pushed her away. He wanted this—he’d dreamed so many times of kissing Crystal again—but this, right now, was wrong. All wrong.

  “What’s the matter?” Crystal shrieked drunkenly, staggering backwards.