Georgetown Academy, Season One Read online

  Finally he spoke, breaking the silence. “Look, what happened back then…”

  The humiliation she had felt over two years ago returned in full force. All those nights she had cried herself to sleep. She cringed, remembering how in love with him she had been.

  “Don’t, Gabe.” They were the only two words she could conjure up as the wheels in her brain struggled to keep up with her heartbeat. She was suddenly aware of the curious stares being cast their way by passing students. Her Jackie O. curse striking again.

  “Just leave me alone,” she whispered. The bell rang and she brushed by him, relieved to reach her English class. The relief, however, was short-lived. She suddenly was aware Gabe was right behind her. She swiveled around.

  “Why are you following me?”

  “I’m not. I have English now, too.”

  This couldn’t be happening. Ellie suppressed a scream as Gabe took a seat behind her.

  Nancy Pelosi was right. The first day of a new administration was seriously stressful.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Tuesday, 12:20pm.

  “So we all remember that a quadratic equation is a polynomial equation of the second degree, right? What do we do if we cannot immediately factor the equation?”

  Taryn Reyes kept her head down, hiding behind her long, dark, wavy hair and praying the strict-looking teacher with the tight bun didn’t call on her. At her old school in Los Angeles, Taryn had always done pretty well in math, but it was like this woman was speaking a totally different language. Polynomial equation? Taryn scanned her brain, trying to remember if she’d ever heard her old math teacher, Patricia, mention that before.

  That was the other thing. At Crossroads, her old school, you called your teachers by their first names. It was all part of the school’s mission to foster an open and nurturing environment. She had to get used to this idea of calling everyone Miss that or Mister this. Here, everything was overly complicated, even her class schedule. Her first period class today would actually be her second period class tomorrow because the school had a rotating bell system for whatever reason. And there were mandatory school-wide assemblies three days a week.

  She wished her parents had been able to find her a school in D.C. that mirrored the bohemian philosophy of Crossroads, but her dad’s chief-of-staff had insisted Georgetown Academy was one of the highest-ranked private high schools in the country.

  Taryn sunk back in her chair, wondering what her friends back home were doing right now. When her dad got elected and she realized her family was going to move from Los Angeles, where Taryn had grown up her whole life, to D.C., she had been excited. Sure, it would be sad to leave home, but Taryn loved traveling, meeting new people, and learning new things. Every new adventure she had experienced in her life so far had been a success. Why should this be any different? But after a few hours at Georgetown Academy, she was starting to realize different was the only way she could describe this place.

  For one thing, she seemed to dress differently than everyone else here. She glanced over at a striking redhead sitting a few rows down. The girl was actually wearing a head-to-toe Chanel ensemble. The only person Taryn knew who wore Chanel was her grandmother. Just then, Chanel girl looked up and caught Taryn staring at her. Taryn instantly felt guilty that she had been so judgmental over someone’s outfit. Just because Chanel girl was dressed like that didn’t mean she wasn’t a nice person. And then, as if on cue, Chanel girl gave Taryn an evil eye that made a “death look” seem like a hug. Taryn swallowed and quickly looked back down at her book. She definitely hadn’t made any friends so far today.

  Maybe tomorrow she should wear something more “G.A. appropriate.” She did have one dress she had gotten for appearances during her dad’s campaign. Her mom had bought it for her after one of her dad’s advisors had suggested that, while it had been acceptable for Taryn to dress more “casually” during the governor campaigns, in an election for the House of Representatives, she’d have to dress more “fancily.” Taryn had a feeling the issue was less about formality, and more about the fact that a local news anchor had commented on how well the governor’s daughter had filled out her low-cut Miu-Miu dress when he thought his mic was off.

  At first, Taryn had thrown a fit about changing the way she dressed—weren’t both her parents always going on and on about the importance of creativity and self-expression? But ultimately, she had given in. If her dad didn’t win, she didn’t want blame to lay on her shoulders (or breasts, for that matter). She didn’t want his advisors saying, “If only Taryn had just worn that god-awful Donna Karan dress that makes her look forty years old, you might have won.” So she wore the dress. And her dad did win. And here she was in D.C., debating whether or not she should wear that same god-awful dress yet again.

  Taryn was suddenly disappointed in herself for feeling like she needed to conform to this place. She hadn’t even been here one full day.

  Just then, the bell rang, snapping her back to reality.

  “Class is dismissed. For homework, please do problem set fifteen from chapter one. It’s all quadratic equation review,” the teacher proclaimed. Taryn sighed as she packed up her books. It seemed a little unfair that teachers expected all the new students to jump right in and catch up on their own.

  “If it makes you feel better, I have no idea what the hell she was talking about, either.” Taryn looked up from her desk to see one of the hottest guys she had ever laid eyes on. With his dark ripped jeans and Converse, he was the first guy she had noticed around here who actually had a little style. She was momentarily dumbfounded, but then quickly recovered, flashing him a friendly smile.

  “Wow. Was I really that obvious?”

  “Something about the look of pure fear in your eyes when she mentioned the ‘quadratic irrationals’ tipped me off.”

  “Are you new here, too?”

  “Uh, yeah. Kind of.”

  “I’m Taryn.”

  “Gabe.” He did a kind of half-salute thing. “See you around.” He grabbed his backpack off his desk and started to walk out.

  She had to keep this conversation going. Gabe put every hot guy in her old school to shame. “Do you know where the cafeteria is?” Sure, it was a lame segue, but it would get the job done.

  But before Gabe could even answer, a freckly-faced girl suddenly popped up out of nowhere, her long blond braid practically slapping Taryn in the face.

  “I’ll show you!” She seemed way too excited by her own proposition.

  “Looks like you’re all covered,” Gabe said with the hint of a smile. He had great teeth. Taryn had a thing for good teeth. She was kind of an obsessive flosser herself.

  She watched him walk out of the classroom and tried not to look too disappointed as she faced the freckly girl and her friend who were both now standing there.

  “I’m Nora. This is Liesel. We’re actually on our way to the dining hall, too.”

  “Great. Thanks,” Taryn said, mustering up a bit more enthusiasm. After all, these were the only girls who had talked to her so far today.

  She fell in step with them as they made their way through the labyrinth of hallways. They passed by a wall of black-and-white photographs of well-renowned G.A. alumni dating all the way back to the late 1800s. Everything in this school seemed so old. Her school in L.A. was built in the 1970s and its bright yellow and blue modern buildings looked like something out of a futuristic sci-fi movie compared to this place.

  “So your dad is going to have a big day today,” Nora said, excitement still lingering in her high-pitched voice as her braid swung vigorously behind her. “He’s planning on joining the Energy Independence Committee, right?”

  Taryn was taken aback. This was seriously what these girls wanted to talk about? “Um, maybe. I’m not really sure.”

  Nora exchanged a look with Liesel, a pixie-ish girl who had incredibly small features except for huge blue eyes that looked like they were about to jump off her face.

  “So he didn’t
get asked. Is that official?” Liesel asked, her bug eyes now looking at Taryn with such intensity, she thought Liesel was going to whip out a cell phone and call Diane Sawyer right then and there.

  “No,” Taryn said firmly, looking between them. “Nothing is official except that I have no idea.” She gave the girls a smile as she said this and they both giggled as if it was the funniest thing they’d ever heard.

  They exited the building through a back hallway Taryn was sure she’d never find again and stepped outside on to a covered walkway. Taryn shivered as they continued walking. In L.A., when the temperature dropped to sixty, it was time to break out the gloves.

  Taryn had not been to this side of campus before and she got her first glimpse of the expansive athletic fields. This place was enormous. Taryn could have easily mistaken it for Georgetown University.

  “Wait, is that a…?” Taryn asked, not believing her eyes.

  “Golf course. Yeah,” Liesel finished, matter-of-factly. “We do have a team, but it’s really here for the guys to practice their swing, so by the time they have to use it for schmoozing, they’ll actually be good.”

  “Does your dad play golf?” Nora asked her.

  “Not really,” Taryn said, ready to talk about something other than her father. “So how long have you guys been going here?”

  “We’re lifers. Born and raised in D.C.,” Nora answered. “Both our dads work for the NRDC.”

  “The National Resources Defense Council,” Liesel added, helpfully.

  “That’s…great,” Taryn said. Back to talking about their parents.

  “Yeah, it’s pretty much the most effective environmental lobbyist group on the Hill,” Nora said proudly.

  It suddenly hit Taryn. That’s why they wanted to know about her dad. Their parents were environmental lobbyists. If her dad was on the Energy Committee, that would be useful for their dads. Or maybe she was being paranoid. They could just be trying to make conversation and this is what people at G.A. talked about.

  “It must be hard to be in a new city,” Liesel said, as they approached the dining hall. “Our families should all grab dinner or something together. There are so many great restaurants here. I’m sure our parents would love to show your parents around.”

  Nope. She wasn’t paranoid. These girls actually wanted to be her friend to create an “in” for their fathers. Taryn was starting to feel a little sick to her stomach. Back home, no one blinked an eye if your dad was in politics. Half the kids at Crossroads were sons and daughters of actors, directors, and singers. In that world, her best friend, Lauren, whose dad was a studio head, got a lot more attention than Taryn ever did. It was becoming clearer and clearer to Taryn that the social hierarchy at Georgetown Academy wasn’t like anything she’d ever experienced before.

  Nora pushed open the glass double doors to the enormous dining hall and Taryn was momentarily distracted from her nausea. The room was beautiful, with its vaulted ceiling, marble floors, gleaming dark maple wood tables, and wall of arched bay windows overlooking the lawn. Taryn headed toward the closest table when Nora stopped her.

  “It’s assigned seating.” She motioned toward a large chart hanging on the wall in front of them. “Assignments change every two weeks. The administration thinks it’s good because it forces you to talk to other people you would never usually associate with. You know, like kids of Republicans sitting with kids of Democrats. Reaching across the aisle, that kind of thing.” Taryn shook her head in disbelief.

  “It gets really awkward sometimes, though. The health care bill almost caused a food fight last year,” Liesel added.

  Nora pointed to Taryn’s name on the large chart. “Oooh, you’ve got a great table. You’re sitting with Ellie Walker. That’s Hunter McKnight’s girlfriend!” Taryn recognized the name as the daughter of the female senator Taryn had done a report on in school last year. She wasn’t sure why this meant she had a great table, though.

  “See you after lunch!” Nora exclaimed as she and Liesel bounded off in opposite directions.

  Not if I can help it, Taryn thought as she made her way toward the back of the cafeteria. As she got closer to her assigned table, she instantly recognized Ellie among the ten or so other students sitting there. She remembered seeing some kind of magazine spread featuring Ellie a few years ago. She was naturally pretty in person, like she could roll out of bed and not have to make any sort of effort on her looks.

  There were two empty seats at the table—one next to Ellie and the other next to the former Vice President’s son, Graham Wells, who Taryn immediately knew from campaign and publicity photographs. He looked much scrawnier close up, the way movie stars always appear shorter in person. He was engrossed in conversation with two girls across from him, though the way he kept smiling looked way more sleazy than friendly. Taryn quickly sat down next to Ellie instead.

  “Hey, I’m Taryn,” she said as she scooted her chair in. Ellie didn’t respond right away. Is this chick seriously going to ignore me? Taryn thought. But then Ellie snapped out of whatever daydream she had been in and turned to Taryn.

  “Oh, right, sorry. I’m Ellie.” They were interrupted by a waiter carrying a silver tray of plates. He began carefully distributing them down the table.

  Taryn’s eyes widened. “You have waiters serve your lunch?” she asked, incredulously. She had already known that you weren’t allowed to bring your own food to school, which seemed like a pretty oppressive rule, but this was unreal.

  Ellie smiled. “You’ll get used to it.”

  Taryn looked down at her plate and inspected the meal in front of her—some sort of chicken. She had been slowly becoming vegetarian over the last few years—she was big on animal rights, and she and her family had recently learned about how bad meat-eating was for the environment, one of her dad’s big causes.

  Ellie must have noticed the look of slight disgust on her face, because she commented, “I know. It’s really gross. They call it Chicken Kiev, but around here, it’s known as Squirting Chicken.”

  “Squirting Chicken?” Just then, Taryn heard a commotion at the table next to them. A group of guys, all wearing the same type of expensive-looking cashmere hoodie, started counting down in unison.

  “3, 2, 1!” At one, they all cut into their chicken, the buttery juice from the middle squirting out, hitting a few of the girls next to them and making them scream. The gray-haired teacher standing nearby rolled his eyes and walked over to the table to get the situation under control.

  They shared a smile. “We get it about once a month. Usually, the food’s not too bad, though,” Ellie said, spearing one of the green beans on the plate.

  “It’s just…I’m a vegetarian.”

  “You are? So then what do you eat?”

  “I don’t know. Salad, tofu...I love that soy stuff that tastes like bologna. Oh! These grilled cheeses from In’N’Out that are just like hamburgers,” Taryn said. “And I LOVE Froyo.”

  “So basically, you like things that taste like other things.” Ellie’s eyes twinkled and she flashed Taryn a perfect deadpan smile. Taryn began to grin as she realized Ellie was right.

  “Yeah. I never really thought of it that way, but it’s true.” Taryn thought for a second. “I even like those jelly beans that taste like buttered popcorn.”

  “Seriously? No one likes those.” Ellie began laughing. Taryn joined in, the first time she had genuinely laughed all day.

  “So how do you like G.A. so far? I’m sure it’s kind of…”

  “Overwhelming. Yeah,” Taryn said, with an appreciative smile. Maybe Ellie could answer one of the zillion questions she had been mentally accruing since first period. “How do I sign up for clubs here?”

  “Oh, we don’t really have clubs at G.A.” Taryn’s heart sank. She had been active in a ton of clubs back home from French Club to Greenpeace to the Gay/Straight Alliance. She had been hoping if she got involved in something like that here, maybe the place wouldn’t feel so foreign.

&nbs
p; “Why not?”

  “No one wants to commit to a viewpoint they could be held accountable to ten years from now.”

  Ellie sensed Taryn’s confusion and continued, “Okay, here’s an example. Let’s say you join the science club. But then in ten years you run for office on a platform that global warming isn’t real—the press could dig up the yearbook photo showing you were in a science club and your opponent could use it against you.” Taryn felt a pang of sadness for G.A. students. They seemed to take everything a lot more seriously than her friends in L.A.

  “If that happened, couldn’t you just say you changed your mind?”

  “And be labeled a flip-flopper? That’s like political suicide.” She said it with a hint of weariness that suggested she thought it was as ridiculous as Taryn did.

  Waiters came over and refilled their water glasses. “It’s the same reason no one has any ‘Likes’ on their Facebook pages,” Ellie added. “Even though we all use aliases, anyway.”

  “Aliases?”

  “A few years ago, the Secretary of Agriculture’s daughter posted a picture with a bong in the background and it was a publicity nightmare.”

  Just then, a cute African-American guy whose chiseled arms were visible even under his wool V-neck sweater, squeezed into the seat next to Graham, who seemed to be performing stand-up judging from how the two girls across from him were giggling.

  “Hey, Ellie,” Chiseled Arms said.

  “Hey,” she replied, giving him a genuine smile. “Taryn, this is Isaac. We all call him Narc, though.”

  Taryn raised a questioning eyebrow.

  “My dad is Paul Nelson,” Narc explained. Taryn was suddenly as impressed with someone else’s father as Nora and Liesel had been with hers. Paul Nelson was pretty much the most respected television journalist out there. “He’d never use me as a source, but the big joke here is that I’m going tell him everyone’s dirty little secrets and they’ll end up front page news. Never have, though, and never will,” he added with a wink, exposing the dimples by the corners of his mouth.