Taryn walked through the empty hallways a few minutes later, heading toward the administration office, surprised at how much bigger the school felt when there was almost no one inside it. She’d been called in to talk to the headmaster, which was why Taryn had gotten to school so early, though the chance to confront Ellie and Gabe in the parking lot had been an unexpected bonus.
She had received the note from Headmaster Hopkins last Friday afternoon, asking her to meet with him immediately after school so he could discuss the Percocet rumor that Brinley Madison had started. But Taryn had ditched the meeting that day, too overwhelmed to deal with it. Now it was time to face the music. She had emailed him an apology over the weekend and he agreed to meet with her first thing today.
As his secretary led Taryn into his inner-office, Taryn’s pulse raced. Of course, the rumor wasn’t true in the slightest. First of all, Taryn didn’t like putting any type of drug in her system. She was more into homeopathic remedies than Advil. Secondly, they were essentially calling her a prostitute. It was absurd. If that same rumor had started back home at her high school in Los Angeles, no one would have believed it, including the principal who loved Taryn and had put her on the influential student admissions committee. But here in D.C., where she was still the new girl, everyone had latched onto the rumor as truth. Even the headmaster, it seemed.
She stepped into the beautiful glass-enclosed office with its impressive panoramic view of the front lawn. Mr. Hopkins, the robust headmaster who was fond of using esoteric words in everyday conversation just so students would have to look them up, glanced at Taryn from his perch behind the desk.
“Taryn, have a seat,” he boomed, before returning his eyes to the computer screen on his desk.
As Taryn sat, she was surprised to find he was scrolling through what looked to be a Twitter feed.
“Just trying to get a handle on what people are saying about this Mills/Walker situation,” he explained, noticing her expression. “People are apoplectic over it. Sean Hannity just tweeted that Ellie Walker is an embarrassment to America.”
Taryn nodded, eager to move on. “Right…well, I—”
Suddenly, his phone rang.
“Hold on, Taryn.” He answered the phone, listening seriously to whatever the person on the other end was saying. “Yes, add three more guards to the North Entrance, please.”
He shook his head as he hung up the phone.
“It’s been a nightmare trying to keep the camera crews out of here this morning.” He said it in a weary tone, yet Taryn detected a note of excitement there. “This is a school. A learning establishment. But their hubris knows no bounds.”
He looked at her like he was expecting a response. Was he ever going to get to her situation?
“Um, Mr. Hopkins, wasn’t there something specific you wanted to talk to me about?”
He paused for a moment as if trying to jog his memory. “Yes, yes,” he finally said. “Let’s address this business about you buying drugs on campus...”
“I didn’t!” Taryn exclaimed, then realized she was speaking a few octaves too high. “Mr. Hopkins, that’s not true,” she added in a calmer tone. “I never did that, I swear.”
Suddenly, his eyes flashed back to the computer screen.
“Rand Paul just retweeted Hannity’s comments.” Taryn sat on her hands, trying to contain her annoyance as he scanned the screen for several more moments. Finally, he turned back to her, distractedly.
“Very well, Taryn. That’s it.”
“That’s it?”
“Your father called me this morning. Just to enlighten me as to your overall character and mettle.” Taryn didn’t know what mettle meant, but she assumed it had to be something good. “With you being new here, and no one else stepping up to corroborate the chain of events, it seems this situation might have been blown out of proportion.”
Taryn wondered what her father had said. Of course, the fact that he was the popular former governor of California and newly elected Congressman, who everyone was touting as the man who could possibly be the country’s first Hispanic president, might have had something to do with the headmaster’s change of opinion. Though the politics of it sickened Taryn, she was, nonetheless, relieved.
“Thanks, Mr. Hopkins,” she said quietly.
“Consider today a warning. You can go. Good luck in your second week here.”
Taryn stepped outside Mr. Hopkins’s office and immediately phoned her dad.
“Tare-bear,” he answered, picking up before the second ring. When he began his political career he had promised his family that they would always come first, and he made a point to take their calls no matter how busy he was. “Did everything get cleared up with the headmaster?”
“Yes,” she replied, “thanks to you. Plus, it seemed like he had bigger fish to fry with this photo scandal.”
“People are talking about it up here, too,” he said, referring to his offices on Capitol Hill. He paused for a moment. “Listen, Taryn, I just want to let you know that I spoke to the Washington Life Magazine editors again…”
Washington Life, the popular social magazine that had chosen her family for their annual prestigious President’s Day photo spread, had called over the weekend to cancel. The editor had muttered something to her mother about “not wanting a scandal.” Clearly the Percocet rumor had somehow even made its way into her ear.
“And…?” Taryn asked, hopefully. If Mr. Hopkins had been willing to move past the incident, maybe Washington Life would too.
“It’s a no-go. They’ve already chosen another family.” Taryn’s heart sank. It wasn’t that she needed the honor of the photo spread that badly, but the fact it had been taken from her for no good reason was particularly infuriating.
“Who did they give it to?” Taryn asked, though she knew the answer before the question was out of her mouth.
“The Madisons.”
The hallways, so clear during Taryn’s walk to Headmaster Hopkins’s office, were now jam-packed with the typical pre-first period rush of students. As Taryn made her way through, she realized her fellow students were, for the most part, ignoring her. It was a few degrees better than the laughing whispers she had endured after everyone had heard, and apparently believed, the humiliating rumor, but she was no longer getting the same star treatment she had gotten after the rookie party last week.
Suddenly, she spotted Nora Emison, the freckly-faced girl who had been so eager to befriend Taryn on the first day of school, walking toward her, her ever-present braid swinging at her side. When Taryn had seen her on Friday, Nora had blatantly stonewalled her. Taryn decided to try again.
“Hey, Nora,” Taryn called out. Maybe she could at least explain her side of the story.
“Um, hey,” Nora said, not giving her the complete cold shoulder, but moving on quickly before Taryn could get another word in.
As Taryn continued walking, she heard frenzied whispers coming from the group of junior girls milling around the lockers to her left, the same vicious, gossipy tone she had grown used to on Friday. But as Taryn came even closer, she realized the girls weren’t talking about her at all.
“…and apparently Hunter dumped her after he saw the photo…”
“…it’s like a Kennedy hooking up with a Bush…”
Oh. It was Ellie who they all were so eager to discuss. Taryn might have felt a morsel of sympathy for the girl had she not been so angry with Ellie herself.
Finally, there, down the hallway, was shaggy-haired senior, Thatcher Wellington, and he was giving her a huge grin. They had become friendly at the rookie party last week. Surely by now he must have figured out the rumor wasn’t true.
“What’s up, Thatcher?” she said with a smile.
“Oh. Taryn, hey,” he said, distracted. Taryn suddenly realized that he hadn’t been looking at her at all—his friend, Jenny Lim, a cool, silky-haired Korean girl, was striding down the hall behind her. Taryn had become friendly with Jenny last week, too. Her fathe
r, Mike Lim, was a senator from Oregon who had won his election bid in a recount, and Jenny had seemed to appreciate that, while other students made jokes about her father’s lowly status in Congress, Taryn was content to talk about non-political things. But maybe Taryn had read too much into their budding friendship because it wasn’t like Jenny had stood up for her last week.
“Ohhh!” Thatcher called out. “No, you didn’t, Jenny!” The two of them broke into laughter at what clearly must be some joke Taryn didn’t understand, while she stood there awkwardly. Thatcher looked at her as if suddenly realizing she was there.
“See ya,” he said, already moving his focus back to Jenny. As they walked away, Taryn could hear Thatcher say, “How insane was that photo of Ellie Walker? I heard she had the balls to show up today, too.”
As Taryn rounded the corner, facing yet another hallway of indifferent faces, she felt the vague stench of loserdom clinging to her, festering as if she was an accused criminal who had been exonerated by a judge, but found guilty in the court of public opinion.
The problem seemed to be that Taryn’s drama had been offset by Ellie’s before Taryn even had a chance to tell her side of the story. And at this point, no one cared to hear it anymore. They had written her off and moved on to the next thing, mentally discarding Taryn like yesterday’s news.
Taryn finally understood why those women of the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills kept ratcheting up their Pinot Grigio-induced on-air drama. Because it was hard to say what was worse. Everybody talking about you…or nobody caring at all.
Taryn nestled into a back-corner seat in history class later that day, watching as the drama unfolded around her like one of the telenovelas her grandmother loved so much. Brinley Madison, the wicked witch herself, sat three rows up and next to Ellie, shooting protective glares at anyone who looked Ellie’s way. Ellie, meanwhile, kept her eyes straight down on her desk, her head in her hands, looking like she wished she were anywhere but here.
Because everyone else was whispering about her. Portia Davies, the gossip queen and “Press Secretary” of G.A., was speaking the loudest, of course, leaning across her desk toward Fiona Hutchison.
“….so tacky, totally rebelling against her mom. Poor Hunter…”
Across the room, Hunter was reviewing a chapter in his textbook and acting like he didn’t even hear the comments. But Taryn noticed his book had remained open to the same page for the last several minutes. And she also noticed Ellie darting her eyes toward him every now and then, obviously hoping to catch him looking back.
The buzzing in the classroom reached epic proportions when Gabe entered. He took in the roomful of disdainful stares and gave a defiant smile, as if he couldn't care less, and sauntered over to an empty seat next to a girl whom Taryn thought was named Evan. She hoped the poor thing wasn’t his next target.
“You hear any interesting news over the weekend?” he asked Evan with a wry smile, loudly enough for everyone to hear. The class went berserk.
“So wrong,” Portia pronounced in a whisper so ear-piercing that it could practically be heard in the hallway.
“Seriously. Have some decency and at least act embarrassed,” Fiona chimed in.
Finally, their eternally frazzled teacher, Mr. Walsh, entered the room.
“Okay, people,” he broke in, interrupting the pointing and whispering. “Let’s get settled. Today, I’m assigning partners for your team research project.” Taryn sank so low in her seat she almost slipped to the floor. There was literally not one person in this room she would want to be paired with.
“This project will count for ten percent of your final grade, so it’s important that you and your partner get on the same page immediately. I’ll be giving you a list of thesis topics to choose from.”
Mr. Walsh pulled out a paper from his lesson book.
“Okay, here we go. Fiona Hutchison, you’ll be with Hillary Watson. Hunter McKnight, you’ll be with Evan Harnett.” Evan flashed a huge smile at Hunter. At least someone was happy about their assignment.
“Rudy—I mean, Shara Uzyel, you’ll be with Brinley Madison—”
“I object to that pairing, Mr. Walsh!” Brinley called out.
“Brinley…” he began wearily.
“It’s fine, Mr. Walsh,” Shara jumped in. “I don’t want to be partners with her, either. I know when I was kidnapped last year, I made a vow to—”
“This is why! Some of us are trying to get into an Ivy League around here and other people are holding on to the one exciting thing that ever happened to them—”
“Brinley, stop. Are you sure you can’t be partners with Ru—Shara? Because I will re-assign you one time, but after that, you cannot change your mind.”
“That’s fine, Mr. Walsh,” Brinley said, a victorious smile on her lips. Taryn didn’t know why Mr. Walsh let her walk all over him all the time.
“Very well. Brinley, your new partner is Taryn Reyes.”
Taryn could kill him.
And apparently she wasn’t the only one. Brinley turned in her seat to give Taryn a death look. But Taryn wasn’t in the mood. She met Brinley’s eye, giving her a fierce stare of her own. The Washington Life spread snub was the last straw. If Brinley thought she was going to be able to walk all over Taryn again, she had another thing coming…
CHAPTER THREE
Monday, 4:11pm.
After miraculously being assigned partners with Hunter McKnight for their history class project, Evan Harnett should have been walking on air. Instead, she sifted through the sale racks at the Macy’s downtown later that afternoon, feeling like lead balloons weighted her down. She barely looked at the clothes as she tried to figure out how she was going to tell Luke Jensen, her best friend who was standing just a few racks away, what her boss at Today in Politics with Paul Nelson, the news show Evan interned at, had said to her about him on Friday.
“How about this one?” Luke held up a somewhat skimpy royal blue halter top. Evan shook her head. With thin, light brown hair she wore in a ponytail almost every day and light blue eyes that were virgins to mascara, Evan was more comfortable in something simple, like jeans and a plain white shirt from the Gap.
“At least try it on. It’s a good color for you.”
Even though he wasn’t out of the closet to anyone but Evan and his parents, Luke didn’t let that stop him from trying to give Evan fashion tips. Not that Luke exuded style himself. He tended to live in his basketball tracksuits but that was just another part of his exhausting cover. If Luke had his way, he’d be rocking some GQ-style looks to school daily.
Evan’s stomachache intensified. She had to tell him. She took a deep breath, trying to slow her jittery heart.
“So, Luke,” she began, her voice sounding odd to her own ears, “you know that executive producer of Today in Politics I told you about…Samantha?”
“Yeah,” Luke responded, not looking up from the bright green skinny jeans he was studying. “The one you have a girl crush on.”
“I do not!” Evan replied, though he wasn’t completely wrong. Successful, put-together Samantha Whitman was a complete role model to Evan, who had dreamed of a journalism career since she was a little girl. Last week, Samantha hadn’t even known Evan’s name, but once she discovered Evan went to Georgetown Academy, and thus, had access to some unique insider details about her classmates’ parents, she had taken her under her wing. Evan had been thrilled. Though now, the thought of it literally made her sick.
She looked over to where Luke stood, examining outfits for her, so sweet, trying to be such a good friend to her, and tears almost welled up in Evan’s eyes.
Yesterday, Samantha had asked Evan to start digging around on a rumor that had somehow found its way to her desk. A rumor that longtime Utah Representative Jensen’s son, Luke, was gay. Given that the Congressman’s district contained large swathes of conservative Salt Lake City, and that he had publicly come out against gay marriage, Luke’s sexuality was being seen as potentially quite newsw
orthy.
And Evan still hadn’t told Luke yet.
Though the thought of having to break the news to Luke filled Evan with such anxiety that she had almost thrown up, she did try tell him right away. But then his grandparents were in town all weekend, and then they had never had a moment where they were truly alone at school today, and then… Excuses, excuses.
“So, anyway—” Before she could figure out how to phrase the rest of the sentence, Luke shoved a snakeskin top in her face.
“You have to try this one on,” Luke implored.
“I don’t know if that’s really me,” Evan responded.
“Come on, Evs, I thought we agreed it was time to step up your game.”
Luke was of the opinion that Evan needed a makeover for her history project study sessions with Hunter, especially now that he was single. Evan was of the opinion that Luke had seen one too many rom-coms where the girl gets the guy after a two-minute montage of shopping and salon visits.
“It doesn’t matter what I wear because it’s probably pointless, anyway,” Evan said. Hunter had been uncharacteristically depressed in history class that day, eyes blank, not saying anything, when usually he dominated the conversation.
After seeing him so upset, Evan immediately felt silly for assuming the photo of Ellie and Gabe meant she had a shot with Hunter. And then she felt guilty for having such a selfish thought to begin with, especially when she saw the heat all three were getting from their fellow G.A. students. Particularly Ellie, who was definitely getting the worst of it. Though their relationship had eroded two years ago, Evan and Ellie had been best friends back when Ellie and Gabe had hooked up for the first time. But Evan was still shocked when she saw the photo. She couldn’t fathom how someone lucky enough to call herself Hunter McKnight’s girlfriend would ever be dumb enough to throw it all away.
Luke swept past her to another rack. “So McKnightus was moping around in history class,” Luke said, using his pet nickname for Hunter. “So what? He’ll get over it and then you have to be there to help him pick up the pieces. I saw the way he was treating you at the rookie party. He was jealous when he saw us together... He even asked me in the locker room after basketball practice last week if you and I were dating.” That news was so huge Evan snapped to attention, momentarily distracted from her anxiety about Luke.
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