Bridgeport Academy » COMPLETE

74

Several minutes before nine, a silver Mercedes-Benz pulled to a stop in front of the Bridgeport gate. The rear doors opened, and three very disheveled owls tumbled out, their long night of drinking and debauchery obvious to all. Robyn and Jasmine's faces were smeared with remnants of last night's makeup.

"Run!" Jasmine ordered after tossing some large bills at the driver and slamming the door shut. She'd called a car service the second they'd gotten back inside the hotel room and left a note for the others saying that they were going for a ride around the city and would see them back at school. Robyn couldn't think about anything except the fact that Dean Marymount had seen her practically naked. Gross. Thank God he hadn't been naked!

Dave took off, sprinting across campus with his leather overnight bag thudding against his hip. Robyn rolled her eyes as she and Jasmine jogged across the wet grass. "Loser."

"At least he makes things interesting." Jasmine paused for a moment to tug off her satin wedges. She had to buy some more practical shoes. "Come on, Rob, speed it up. We've got, like, two minutes till nine."

Robyn had stopped and was holding her hands to her stomach. It had been heaving the entire ride home, and now with the running, it was too much for it to handle. She leaned over one of the groomed flower beds and heaved.

"Shit." Jasmine measured the distance they still had to cover to their dorm. There's no way they were going to make it if they had to wait for Robyn to finish puking. Fuck.

Robyn wiped her mouth on the sleeve of her black sweater. Of course this was how it would end—her alone, facedown in her own vomit on the Bridgeport lawn for the entire campus to see. She wanted to die. "You go ahead."

But Jasmine didn't move. Instead, she unzipped her tote bag and dug through it until she pulled out a half-full bottle of water. "Here." She handed it to Robyn. "Drink."

Robyn's eyes teared up. All right, so maybe Jasmine wasn't a complete bitch.

Ten minutes later, when they tiptoed into Waverly, they thought they were home free. Until, that is, they passed the door to the common room and saw Dean Marymount, leaning against the fireplace, waiting.

"You're late." He sighed, clearly still pissed.

"Like, five minutes!" Robyn cried, then clamped her mouth shut for fear of vomiting all over him.

Jasmine spoke up pleadingly. "Come on, do you have to punish us?"

"Unfortunately, I do." Marymount straightened his maroon-and-navy tie. What was he doing wearing a tie on a Sunday morning, and how the hell had he gotten back to campus so quickly? "This institution has rules that must be upheld. However"—he looked at them pointedly—"because of extenuating circumstances, your punishment will be considerably lighter than it should be. Starting immediately, you two will no longer be allowed to live together. We've been able to do some rearranging, and a room on the first floor has opened up. Robyn and Karrueche Tran will remain in Waverly 303, while Jasmine and Alexandra Crane will move to Waverly 121."

Jasmine's mouth fell open. "You've got to be kidding me." She and Alex, alone? Talk about awkward. Maybe they could discuss Michael's kissing techniques while they lay in bed at night. She almost snickered, it was so absurd. And Robyn and Kae? They could compare notes on Chris while painting each other's toenails. Not. The administration really couldn't have planned a more perfect punishment for any of them.

Marymount gave her a sharp look. "The room is vacant now. It shouldn't take you too long to get resettled." He headed toward the door. "The sooner you get started, the better."

"That fucker!" Robyn muttered fiercely the second the door closed behind him. She bit at her fingernail in frustration. "How can I be expected to live with that little thot? She'll probably sleep with Chris, like, every night."

"Kind of like you never did?" Jasmine blew Robyn a kiss. Robyn glared back at her, but Jasmine didn't care. She felt strangely excited about the whole situation. Life was too boring if things like this didn't happen every once in a while to shake it all up. "Come on, let's go break the news."