Welcome to Bridgeport Academy, an elite boarding school in New York where glamorous rich kids don't let rules get in the way of a good time.
[ Based on the It Girl series by Cecily Von Ziegesar ]
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Alex stood outside the door to room 303, her pointy ankle boots squeezing her toes. She could hear Jasmine's hoarse voice on the other side of the door, bitching to Robyn about how Alex was taking up too much closet space. She reread the note Kae had written on the door's whiteboard, her whole body trembling with anticipation at the thought of seeing Jasmine again.
Happy Tuesday! Dinner tonight after practice?— K
Kae was just so...sincere, like she cared way more about being happy than cool and like she wasn't interested in who your parents were or if they, say, lived in New Jersey or East Hampton. She was basically as different from Jasmine as anyone could possibly be.Alex couldn't stop worrying that it was probably only a matter of time before Jasmine informed everyone on campus about her family.
Even though it hadn't been her or Robyn's fault that Jasmine had been kicked out—neither of them had ratted her out, even though they'd both spent the summer assuming the other had—Alex knew Jasmine would blame them. She rolled her head around on her neck like a boxer getting ready for a fight and pushed open the heavy oak door.
Jasmine stood in the middle of the room, beautiful and model thin, wearing a strapless minidress beneath her maroon Bridgeport jacket. Alex didn't believe in superstitious like auras, but it sure felt like Jasmine was radiating something.
"Well, well," Jasmine said coolly. "Nice to see you, Alex."
Alex smoothed skirt, unsure if she should go over and give Jasmine a hug. She had never dealt well with people being mad at her, especially people who might very well spill your deepest, darkest secret just for shits and giggles. "You look fabulous as usual, Jas."
Robyn cleared her throat and slid a thick textbook into her bookbag. Her hair was in its usual messy after-practice bun and her hockey clothes were balled up next to the closet. Alex had skipped practice, claiming to have cramps—Coach Johnson was super-squeamish when it came to anything period-related—and sat outside Stansfield Hall, hoping to "casually" bump into Michael leaving his office. No luck.
He might be a teacher and the Disciplinary Committee adviser, but he was also the most incredible...man...Alex had ever met. Last week, after the big Black Saturday game, she'd been absolutely sure that she was ready to lose her virginity to him. But then she'd chickened out and run off his yacht and directly into her ex-boyfriend. Oops.
"I'll let you two get reacquainted," Robyn muttered before heading toward the door. Alex really wished Robyn wouldn't leave. Even if things had been strained between the two of them, Alex was a little scared to be left alone with Jasmine. What if she'd already told Robyn she was really just a poor Jersey girl? What if Jasmine burned a hole in her soul with her freaky blue eyes?
"Thanks for helping me with my stuff, Rob."
Robyn puckered her bee-stung lips and made an exaggerated air smooch before she gently closed the door behind her. Alex wondered if Robyn would stick around to eavesdrop on their conversation like she had. Probably.
Jasmine's Louis Vuitton luggage was piled onto her old bed, and a tiny metal-framed cot, sagging slightly in the middle, was pushed into the corner where the girls normally stashed their trash can. Kae's comforter and sheets were tangled in a ball on top of it. One of her pillows was on the floor.
Jasmine looked at Alex, standing straight across the room. What was her fucking deal? She couldn't even muster up a little excitement about seeing her old best friend back where she belonged, especially after she had saved her ass? Where was the gratitude? The respect? The fawning? She had just gotten back from another hemisphere, for Christ's sake, not the dining hall.
Alex walked over to her desk and draped her blazer over her chair. "I'm not feeling well," she replied primly.
Jasmine tugged at the zipper on her signature leather bag and pulled out an armful of chiffon and silk. She narrowed her carefully made-up eyes at Alex as she walked to the closet and slid her things out of the way. It made Jasmine think of all the times the three of them had faked day passes from their parents and taken the train into the city to shop at the boutiques in Soho. Jasmine even spotted the silver dress she'd dared Alex to shoplift from Saks.
Fuck you, Jasmine wanted to yell. Just apologize and kiss my ass a little so we can all be friends again! But Alex was just standing there stubbornly, running her finger along the collection of small gold studs in her left ear. What did she have to be pissed about?
"Still going out with Quincy?" Jasmine finally asked.
"That's over." Alex cleared her throat and willed herself not to think about Michael. Jasmine had some sort of extrasensory perception when it came to secrets, and as soon as she sensed anything scandalous, she'd latch on until she'd uncovered every juicy detail.
"Oh, yeah? So, who's the next victim?" Jasmine asked pointedly, thinking of Mr. Jordan and his sexy lips and monogrammed platinum cuff links and the way Robyn suggested she ask Alex about him. She knew her friends, and she knew what that meant. He had to be quite a score for a closeted Jersey girl like Alex.
"That remains to be seen." Alex turned to start gathering her books. "Look, I'm on my way to Teyana's to study. I was just stopping by to get some things," she lied.
Jasmine bristled. Since when did Alex care more about hitting the books with nosy, loudmouthed Teyana than welcoming back her long-lost friend?
"I was going to check out what Aubrey and Dave were doing anyway," Jasmine responded casually. Now, there would be some faces happy to see her. She grabbed her oversized Prada tote and headed for the door. "Maybe I'll see you around." She shut it loudly, scattering the girls who had been eavesdropping, and waited in the hall until she heard Alex murmur, "Bitch."
Bitch? Jasmine mused, clicking down the hall. Well, we'll see what Mr. Too-fine-to-be-a-teacher Jordan thinks of bitches.
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3:14 PM
JasmineSanders: Wts the deal with the sexy new guy?
TeyanaTaylor: The dark skinned one with the braids from Harlem? Looks delicious but he's a freshman! Unfair right?
JasmineSanders: The dude is definitely not a freshman. Jordan or something?
TeyanaTaylor: U mean MISTER Jordan? He's a history teacher and does DC.
JasmineSanders: I think he's my adviser.
TeyanaTaylor: Lucky bitch. I heard he and Alex were playing footsie at the last DC meeting.
