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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You would have thought Chris was two hours late rather than five minutes, judging from the look on Michael's face when he opened the door. "Sorry I'm late," he said, wondering why he seemed to always be apologizing to this guy.
"Sit down." Michael nodded toward a shiny leather chair while he stood behind his desk, looking like someone in an acting class who had just been instructed to do "stern."
Three hours ago, Chris had been sitting at the conference table in his European history seminar, yawning uncontrollably and taking enormous sips from a triple-shot latte, trying not to think about Kae. He'd been too wired to sleep last night and had stayed up playing Playstation until three in the morning, so he could barely drag his ass out of bed when the alarm went off at seven. He was impressed with how quickly Kae got used to riding Credo. He was afraid that she'd be too terrified to do much more than pet her, but she hopped right on, and even though she looked completely terrified, she managed to trot for almost forty-five minutes. Good, she was so sweet.
Underneath the table, Chris checked his email on his phone, hoping for a note from Kae telling him when they'd get together again. But instead, he had only a message from Mr. Jordan asking him to come to his office before lunch. What the hell was that about?
He had assumed that Michael just wanted him to check in since he was still on probation from getting caught in Robyn's room after hours. That seemed so long ago now. He didn't even remember that as the night he and Robyn had almost had sex; he just remembered it as the first time he touched Kae, when he sat on her bed drunk as hell. She had smelled so good—like sleep and flowers and toothpaste—that he wanted to fall asleep next to her.
Chris stared at Mr. Jordan. He'd always known the guy was shifty. Chris had seen the way Michael interacted with girls. Like he couldn't believe his luck, getting to be surrounded by so many gorgeous chicks who fawned over him, completely forgetting that they were off-limits to him. And he'd heard the rumors about him and Alex.
"Chris?" Mr. Jordan clasped his hands together and spoke slowly as though he was talking to someone who was a little retarded. "Do you understand what probation means?"
Chris pretended not to have heard his patronizing tone, wondering if this was some sort of test. Maybe Michael just needed to feel like a tough guy sometimes. "It means I don't get to make any more mistakes or I'm kicked out."
"Thank you." Mr. Jordan leaned back in his chair, his elbows on the arms and his fingers making a temple. "I have to tell you that I've received several reports of you breaking your probation."
"Breaking it?" Chris asked incredulously. "How? I haven't done anything. Who told you I did?"
"We've gotten several reports," Mr. Jordan repeated, unfazed, "that you've been skipping classes."
"Oh, yeah? From who?" Chris thought back to the day when he met Kae out in the woods for the painting project. Her last period was a free period that day, and he'd been so eager to get together with her, he'd skipped his AP Art History lecture. But it was a giant class, held in the auditorium in the dark, and Professor Johnson never bothered to take attendance. If the professor didn't bust him, who would have?
"Anonymous." Mr. Jordan was clearly acting tough because he knew he had nothing on him. He started to relax a little. "And you can't get expelled on a rumor, that's true. But it's going to mean that you've got another two weeks of in-house suspension, and if you get caught doing anything else wrong, well, I'm not going to be able to help you."
You're the last nigga I'd throw a rope to, Chris wanted to say. But he groaned instead, realizing the Boston trip was planned for next weekend. The Ritz, Kae, Kae in some kind of sexy costume—it all sounded so great. "I don't get it, this doesn't make any sense. I didn't do anything. Can't you just give me a break?"
"Rules are rules. You knew what probation meant. You should have been smarter."
"Rules are rules," Chris repeated thoughtfully. "Huh. That sounds funny, coming from you." Chris spoke evenly, watching Michael face for a reaction. He took a job at a small private boarding school and within the first week tried to bag one—or more—of the students? In Virginia, you'd get taken out back and beaten until you understood how to be a gentleman. And here he was, trying to be all disciplinarian and self-righteous.
The room fell completely silent for several long, awkward moments while Chris wondered what Michael would say. Finally Mr. Jordan cleared his throat. "I don't know what you're trying to imply, but if I were you, I'd stop worrying about other people and try to remain focused on not getting expelled."
"Why are you being such a hardass?" Michael clearly had a weird need to feel powerful and knock down some students in his way.
"Why are you being such a dumbass? Bridgeport's the best thing that happened to you, so you better get it together and realize that and stop pissing your future away." It was the kind of thing one of Chris's brothers would say to him, except all three of them were older than Mr. Jordan, and even if they treated him like a lazy kid, they weren't nearly as condescending as Michael was. What was this guy's deal, anyway?
"Thanks for the advice, adviser." Chris shook his head and stood up to go. "I've got to get to lunch—I don't want any reports to come in that I missed it."
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To: RobynFenty@Bridgeport.edu; AlexCrane@Bridgeport.edu; KekePalmer@Bridgeport.edu; ZendayaColeman@Bridgeport.edu; TeyanaTaylor@Bridgeport.edu; SevynStreeter@Bridgeport.edu; KarruecheTran@Bridgeport.edu; ZoeKravitz@Bridgeport.edu
From: JasmineSanders@Bridgeport.edu
Date:Monday, September 16, 5:43 p.m.
Subject:Le initiation
My dearest Café Society lovelies,
Initiation Evening Pizza Soiree TONIGHT.
Essential for all who wish to stay in the society's good graces and attend next weekend's getaway in Boston. Wellington 303, 8 p.m. Be there.
Mr. Davis purchased tickets for Broadway tonight. (He sent Mrs. Davis flowers too. Sounds like he's trying to smooth something over!) The happy couple won't be home until well after midnight. Thank you, Teyana, for your diligent snooping!
We will be ordering in from our favorite pizza place, Ritoli's, of course.
Please note: Dress code is short, tight, and heart-attack-inducing.
