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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Chris inhaled deeply on the joint and handed it to Jermaine Cole. They were sitting in a little alcove that separated them from the rest of the tent with those door beads that a grandmother might have.
"This party's lame," Chris managed to grumble, while trying to hold the weed smoke in his lungs.
"Aren't they always, though?" Jermaine replied.
They talked for a few minutes about which party had been the best, and decided that it was the one Jasmine Sanders had thrown at her parents' huge log cabin in Alaska a year and a half ago. It had been over spring break, and most kids had been with their parents, so not that many of them had gone to Alaska. The house was on the edge of an ice lake, next to a giant, purple mountain. They'd all drunk so much alcohol, they'd been completely uninhibited. It was before Chris and Robyn got together, and he'd coaxed Jasmine into getting naked with him and sitting in her outdoor hot tub, where they'd talked all night. It had been the kind of party where everything is serene and perfect—nobody had gotten mad at anybody, and everybody had stayed on that fun, wild side of drunk without crossing over and vomiting all over the floor.
The beads parted, and Alex suddenly burst through. She was wearing all black and looked craggy and grumpy, like that wicked old witch with the apple in Snow White.
"What's up?" Chris asked, as she plopped down next to him.
"Can I hide out in here with you guys?" She took the joint, which had burned down to a little knobby roach. She took a long drag on it and blew the smoke out her nose.
"Sure."
"You guys make no sense," she finally said after a long pause, running her hands through her long ponytail.
"Who, me and Jermaine?"
"No." Alex turned to Chris. "I meant...why is it that when you guys want something, and when you get it, when we give it to you, you freak out?"
Jermaine took a hit and leaned back, running his hand through his messy dreads. "That's way too deep for me, man."
Alex pulled out her cigarettes and lit one. "Never mind," she scoffed, standing up again. She squinted at Chris. "Are you still with Robyn?"
"I don't know."
She smirked. "That's what I thought. I'm outta here. Have a good party, boys."
"She's so weird," Jermaine muttered. "You know what I just heard? I heard she's fucking one of the teachers. That new nigga."
"Alex?" Chris asked, looking after her. "Nah."
"I don't know, man. Look at her. She's a mess."
Chris grunted and rolled one of the beige marble door beads between his fingers. His weed-addled brain tried to process what had gone down with Robyn. Were they still together or not?
He stood up and parted the beads with his hand, feeling totally messed up. He expected love to feel like something incredible, maybe a little painful. Like the sore, used-up way his back and legs felt after riding Credo all day. Or the feeling he got when he was in Paris, watching people walk by, and suddenly realized he was right there in the moment and not stuck somewhere in the past or the future. But he wasn't sure if he felt that way about Robyn. Where was she, anyway?
And that's when he saw them.
Dave kissing Robyn all over her face. She'd pulled down Dave's jeans so low that they'd slid below his hips. He could see a strip of his ass. As usual, Dave was going commando.
Chris turned back into the alcove again. Well, there was his answer.
