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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Aubrey loved Saturday mornings at Bridgeport. Friday night parties were never as wild or liquor-fueled as Saturday night ones, and students didn't walk around looking as totally destroyed as they did on Sunday mornings. Saturday mornings always felt more wholesome, with students wearing their maroon Bridgeport sweatshirts tied around their waists, headed to the fields to watch the soccer matches or field hockey games. Kids from the city took the train down to spend the weekend in their Upper East Side penthouses, barhopping at night with their beautiful friends from private school or other prep schools.
Aubrey was from Connecticut (Greenwich born and raised) and while the gorgeously manicured grounds of Bridgeport were not exactly a landscape foreign to him, Bridgeport felt much more like home than Connecticut did. His father had remarried three years ago, and his stepmom was a total nightmare of a woman, barely ten years older than Aubrey, and now his half-sibling two-year-old twins toddled around the house, gnawing and barfing on expensive furniture while their mother fawned over how brilliant they were. His stepmom, whose name he vowed would never cross his lips, seemed to be convinced he was gay and told him once that if he ever came out of the closet, his father would "probably still love him." At least he never got homesick.
The day was sunny but with a crispness to it. Aubrey cut across the quad, his shoes collecting bits of grass still damp with dew. He headed toward Maxwell Hall, a building that housed the student center, coffee bar, mail room, and study lounges and served as the social nexus of the campus. The library was the place to go when you were studying for a test or writing a paper that you couldn't afford to get a C on. People who went to Maxwell were interested in a more-social type of studying, the lazy kind that welcomes the noise of cappuccino machines and interruptions from attractive members of the opposite sex. Maybe Robyn would be there, having her double shot of espresso and reading the latest copy of Vogue instead of doing her calculus. Aubrey was planning to flop down in an oversized armchair in one of the balcony alcoves for a few hours, sip his latte, and get started on his homework.
The main space of Maxwell, with its massive stone walls, Romanesque arches, and enormous fireplace that was never actually lit, felt cavelike and welcoming. It was crowded with people, and after Aubrey added his three packets of Splenda to his coffee, he headed up the creaky back stairs to one of the dark alcoves on the upper floor, where you could look down onto the main lounge area and see everyone who came in.
At first Aubrey was disappointed to see a head full of dark hair instead of Robyn's ombre locks, but then he recognized them as belonging to Kae.
"Hey," he said, pleased that she had somehow found her way to his favorite spot in the entire building. There were two oversized armchairs angled toward each other, a small wooden table between them. Aubrey had spent many hours seated here with his headphones, longing for Robyn. There was something so intimate about reading next to someone, every now and then looking up to catch their eye and maybe kiss a little.
Kae glanced up from her book, clearly deep in thought. It took her a moment to focus on Aubrey, but when she did, her face broke into a sweet grin. She was wearing a flowered button-down that wasn't exactly tight yet still managed to hug her body, a short distressed jean skirt, black tights, and gray suede flats so small they looked like kids' shoes. Her legs were crossed daintily at the ankles. "Hey, Aubrey! What's up?"
