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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"I didn't take the picture, did I? How is this possibly my fault?" Robyn screeched into her cell phone, already tired of having to deal with yet another complaint from Nicholson Adams, her mother's publicist. Apparently a photo taken of Robyn at a late-summer pool party had shown up in a section of the Atlanta Journal-Constitution, with the snide caption Governor Fenty's Daughter: Starving for Attention? So what if she'd lost some weight in Barbados, pining over the disaster that was her relationship with Chris? Who the hell's business was it, anyway? Not the Journal-Constitution's and certainly not smarmy Nicholson Adams's.
Robyn stood in the empty room in her camisole and low-rise boy shorts, the phone having rung when she was about to put on her pajamas. As Nicholson proceeded to lecture her on how an eating disorder would reflect badly on voters' views of her mother's family values, she looked at herself in the mirror. She turned to take in her thin body from a variety of angles, but nowhere did she see anything resembling the pin-thin bodies plastered in all the magazines. She certainly wasn't anorexic or anything. She'd just scarfed down three pieces of gooey Ritoli's pizza and half a bottle of champagne.
"Is my mother concerned that her daughter has an eating disorder or that people think her daughter has an eating disorder? If she's actually concerned about me, tell her that next time she can call herself."
She was about to hang up when he said, "Just try to eat something every once in a while, okay?"
"Eat this!" she screamed before hanging up. Then Alex walked through the door, looking like she'd witnessed a car crash. She'd gone outside with her cell phone when Nicholson called. Robyn pulled on her red satin pajama bottoms. "What's the matter, sweetheart?" Her voice immediately softened, and she was surprised at how the word "sweetheart" came out of her mouth so effortlessly. In her post-Chris existence, she must be transferring her affections onto her friends.
"Michael just texted me," Alex blurted, her voice full of disbelief. "He...he doesn't think we should see each other anymore."
"What?" Robyn grew cold. Shit. This sounded like Jasmine's doing. Had she really made a move on Mr. Jordan? Already? "Did he say why?"
"He said it wasn't smart." Alex shook her head slightly. "But two days ago he didn't care if it was smart or not when we were practically naked in his bed."
"Did something change that made him realize how much trouble he could get in?" Robyn asked dubiously. "Maybe he bumped into Marymount and freaked?"
"Maybe." Alex bit her lip and looked like she was about to cry. "But I don't know. He didn't say anything about Dean Marymount."
Robyn wondered if Alex had any suspicions that this had something to do with Jasmine returning, but of course Robyn wasn't about to say anything. God, why was everything a fucking secret this year? "Well, it was just a text, right? How much could he say?"
Alex stared at Robyn blankly. "But I felt so...close to him. We almost did...it." At this, Alex's knees seemed to collapse under her and she fell dramatically onto her bed. "And then I just told him that I wanted to finally do it for real. And he just wrote back, saying it was over. It makes me feel so...sick and...stupid. Like I was some silly kid and he lost his patience with me."
