Chris saw Robyn leaning up against the storefront, nervously fiddling with her bamboo-handled Chanel bag and holding an unlit cigarette. It was a warm afternoon and she was wearing a colorful flimsy shirt and matching skirt. Rhinecliff locals (mostly hippie artists) were milling about the cobblestone street, eating ice cream cones from the creamery and stopping to talk to Hank, the guy who sold tie-dyed T-shirts and incense on the sidewalk. Chris doubted the hippies were talking to Hank for the incense, though. Hank sold weed to plenty of Bridgeport students, including him.
"Well, look who's here," Robyn said sarcastically. Chris didn't answer. They were in front of Adore, a girly boutique Robyn deigned to shop at. It was the only store in Rhinecliff that didn't usually sell tie-dyed shirts, and when it did, they were silk, sequined, and cost $300. It was important that Chris talk to Robyn, though, so here he was.
"We're in trouble," he announced flatly.
Robyn examined her freshly manicured nails. "We, huh?"
Chris scowled. "Of course we. And why did I see Kae come out of Mr. Jordan's office? Was it for last night? She had nothing to do with this."
"Well, Ms. Emory called me in too. And if you must know, yes, Kae was in there because of last night. It's not like I can take the rap. The E thing, remember? My parents would disown me and send me to public school!"
"What are you talking about?" Chris demanded, rubbing the unshaven sides of his face.
Robyn shook her mane of hair off the back of her neck. "Look, I don't want to get kicked out. So I said you were there with Kae and that we were broken up."
"What?" Chris asked, stunned. Robyn shrugged and pushed open the door to the store. Chimes jingled to announce their arrival.
"Sweetheart! Welcome back!" shrieked a very tall, very thin woman with slicked-back hair as soon as they stepped through the door.
"Hi, Tracey!" Robyn cooed. They kissed each other's cheeks in a well-rehearsed routine. Chris hung back, wanting out. Immediately. Shopping, screaming girls...so not his thing. Why had he come? He should be enjoying his last days at Bridgeport.
"I held some things for you over the summer," Tracey beckoned, whisking Robyn and Chris into a little back section. She brought out a garment rack of shiny dresses, skirts, and blouses and held up an ivory gown. "Isn't this pretty?"
Chris turned his head to the side to read the price tag: $2,250.
"Oh, yes," Robyn breathed. She didn't seem at all concerned that she'd gotten her new roommate in trouble or that she'd lied to the administration. Nope. All she was worried about was whether this dress came in a small enough size.
"You could practically wear this to your wedding!" Tracey shoved the dress up against Robyn's body.
"Yeah, if you were a prostitute," Chris added rudely. He plopped down onto the lavender couch, pulling a frilly, pink lace pillow out from under his ass.
Robyn rolled her eyes. "Boys," she sighed at Tracey. "They know nothing!" Then she walked over and stroked his arm. "So, was Mr. Jordan mean to you?"
"He said I might get kicked out."
"Oh, but you won't. You're a legacy. They never kick out legacies."
Chris saw a flicker of worry cross her face as she gathered up the dresses Tracey had given her to try on. "I don't know," he responded as she closed the pink dressing room door. "What if they decide to set a new example?"
"They won't," Robyn insisted determinedly, throwing her nude bra over the top of the dressing room door. "You're definitely safe."
"So you're just gonna let Kae take the rap for you then?"
"Why not? Mr. Davis caught her, after all. And she's prepared. We discussed it."
Chris sighed. "You know, Mr. Davis told me she didn't say one way or another what happened. So what if she snitches?"
"She won't," Robyn called back, her voice cracking with forced determination.
Chris sat back. The shopkeeper, Tracey, stared at his Converse high tops, which he'd propped up on the store's velvet ottoman. What, was he not supposed to put his feet there? Tough.
Suddenly, Robyn stuck her head out of the dressing room door. "Sweetie? I need you to do me a teeny, tiny little favor."
"What?" If it was to help her untangle her thong or zip something up, he really wasn't in the mood.
Robyn's eyes met his. "Well..." She curled a strand of weave around her forefinger. "If Kae's going to take the rap for me, and I'm sure she will, we need things to look...believable."
"Believable?"
"You know. Like something actually happened between you two."
Chris rolled his jaw around incredulously, staring at her.
"So," Robyn breezed ahead, "this might sound weird, but I'm wondering if you might flirt with her a little. You know, maybe if you two acted like you liked each other. Just a little."
"You're asking me to flirt with another girl?" Chris laughed, taking his feet off the ottoman. "Have you forgotten you're the most jealous person on the planet?"
Robyn closed the door again and slung the dress she'd just been wearing over the top. "I am not jealous," she retorted.
"What do you want me to do?"
"I don't know. Flirt. Be nice to her. Friendly."
With the dressing room door closed, Robyn's view of Chris was obscured. But if she could have seen him, she might have been confused by the seemingly huge, googly grin on his face and the rising color spreading up his neck to his cheeks. When she stuck her head out of the door again, he'd managed to compose himself.
"Does that really sound so bad? You're not going to get kicked out of school. That's just silly. But you were already seen by Mr. Davis in the dorm, so you're already in trouble. It wouldn't hurt to make it a teensy bit believable, would it?"
"Well, they're right!" Chris put his hands in the air helplessly.
Robyn jiggled up and down out of frustration, and Chris looked at her chest for a second. "Babe, please? Wouldn't that be awful if I got kicked out?"
"But what if I get kicked out?"
Robyn screwed up her face. "You won't," she said firmly. "I already told you that."
Chris hesitated. Was it possible that Robyn had somehow seen him sitting on Kae's bed last night, touching her back, and that this was all a test? Better to play it like he wasn't sure about the idea, although inside, of course, his whole body felt like it had been struck by lightning. Was it really possible that his girlfriend was actually asking him to get to know the chick he was digging?
"This doesn't sound very moral," he answered stoically, keeping the shit-eating smile off his face.
"Moral?" She slammed the door shut again. "Are we forgetting about how you stole me away from Aubrey last year? Right out from under his nose?"
"So?"
"That wasn't exactly moral, was it?"
Chris shrugged.
"Anyway," Robyn continued, "I'm going to tell Kae about it, too. It's not like I'm asking you to make out with her or anything. Will you please just do this for me?"
"I..." Chris croaked. She wasn't testing him. She was serious. He really was the fucking luckiest guy in the world.
Robyn opened the door, wearing the white satin dress. She looked like Boarding-School-Bitch Barbie on her wedding day. "So you'll do it?" she asked. He slowly nodded, and she broke into a smile. "Thank you, baby. It'll be a humungous help."
No, no, Chris thought. Thank you.
To: DeVonTran@poetsonline.com
From: KarruecheTran@bridgeport.edu
Date: Thursday, September 5, 12:15 P.M.
Subject: Miss you
Hi Dad,
Field hockey tryouts were yesterday and you're not going to believe this but I'm a total natural. I'm still adjusting to everything here, it's different from the city and Southeast in so many ways. Smells much better and there are no roaches, but there are lots of RULES. I'm still learning what they are...Let's hope I pick up on them as quickly as field hockey.
Hugs and kisses!
Love you,
Kae
P.S. Can you send my cell phone? I thought they weren't allowed, but as it turns out, everyone has them here. It's on top of my bureau in my room. Thanks, Dad. Love you again.