Georgetown Academy, Season One Read online

  At least for the next twenty minutes.

  It’s Rookie Party time! Which girl do you want to follow for the night?

  Evan

  Brinley

  Ellie

  Taryn

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  CHAPTER SIX

  Tuesday, 9:34pm.

  Evan parked her Taurus on the tree-lined street a few houses down from Anton Saratov’s palatial estate. Was this the right time to show up to a party? Oh god. What if no one is here yet? She nervously pulled a few strands of hair behind her ear, and had a disturbing vision of walking into a completely empty house.

  Thankfully, her fears were quickly assuaged when she saw two senior girls pass by, talking so loudly that Evan thought they might have hearing problems. It was hard to tell what they were wearing under their trendy cashmere coats, but she was pretty sure they were more dressed up than she was. She hadn’t had a chance to run home and change after work. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. She was scared that if she went home to change, she would be too chicken to make it back out. So here she was at her first G.A. party wearing the same jeans and sweater she wore to school that day. She pulled the rubber band out of her hair, letting her ponytail fall loose. As if that was going to make some huge difference in her look.

  She could do this. It was exactly like Samantha said. She wasn’t going to be able to bring an interesting perspective to her journalism career, if she never put herself in the middle of the action.

  It’s now or never.

  She stepped out of her car and walked past the other Spring Valley mansions toward Anton’s house. Evan might not be on the G.A. inside track, but even she knew the reason Anton was so popular was because he had the perfect party house. His father was a Russian diplomat which meant the cops couldn’t step foot on his property. Leave it to the students at G.A. to exploit diplomatic immunity.

  She followed a herd of juniors up the mile-long driveway and into the Antebellum-style estate. The entryway made Evan’s jaw drop. The massive dark wood and alabaster double staircase looked straight out of Gone with the Wind. Several crystal chandeliers the size of her car loomed overhead, giving everyone who stood under them a mysterious-looking glow. No one stopped their conversations when Evan walked in. No one gave her dirty looks like they didn’t know why she had shown up. No one seemed to care at all that Evan Harnett was at a Georgetown Academy party. Evan was completely relieved.

  She would feel even better if she could find Luke, who had already texted her that he was inside. Finding him in a house this size, though, would be like searching for a polar bear in a snowstorm. This was good for her, though. She should focus on observing her surroundings, anyway. Maybe a story or two would pop out at her.

  She weaved through the sea of G.A. students, telling herself not to visibly gape at the incredibly high ceilings and gilded crown moldings. As she walked out of the foyer and into the hallway, she found herself right behind Portia Davies, or as everyone at G.A. referred to her, the “Press Secretary.” Portia had earned the name by being the school’s biggest gossip, but more importantly, whenever anyone wanted to spread a story about themselves or someone else, they went straight to Portia, knowing she would disseminate the information faster than the White House’s press secretary ever could. If there were any good tidbits to report back to Samantha, Portia was the one who knew them. And true to her name, she was now talking a mile a minute as her raven hair bounced with each overly dramatic hand gesture she made. Two rookies flanked her, hanging on every word Portia was practically shouting. What was it with girls at parties and screaming at each other?

  “If you want to be smart, try out for lacrosse, not soccer. Kilts are way cuter than shorts, you’re in much closer proximity to the guys’ lacrosse team and you still have a great view of the baseball field,” Portia instructed. “Any guys either of you are into yet? You should always run them by me first. The FBI would be jealous of the database I’ve got going on in my brain.”

  One of the rookies immediately piped up. “There’s a cute guy in my math class. Jake Kleinman.”

  Portia stopped short, so suddenly, that Evan almost ran into her.

  “He’s in the NSA. It’s going to be way too long of a process to date him. You should move on,” Portia told her, seriously.

  The rookies looked as confused as Evan. “How can he be in the National Security Agency? He’s in high school,” the other rookie asked.

  “Duh. Not the actual NSA. It’s just what we call his group of friends. Those poor guys are so shy they never say two words. They’re completely silent.”

  Like the National Security Agency. How had Evan not heard that before? She smiled. She had only been there for a few minutes and she was already learning new things.

  Portia was just launching into a diatribe about which students’ parents had sham marriages when they entered a room large enough to fit Evan’s entire house. Old estates like this usually had a glamorous ballroom on the first floor, but the Saratovs had transformed theirs into a massive game room replete with an air hockey and pool table, several old-school arcade games and even a Pop-a-Shot. Evan moved tentatively, the shouts of students and the ringing sounds from arcade games engulfing her.

  On the far side of the room, Evan was surprised to see a group of students actually watching that day’s earlier feed of the inauguration. And they seemed really into it. This party was nothing like she thought it was going to be. Suddenly, one of the seniors in the group, Thatcher Wellington, who rose to popularity around the same time his dad started doing hilarious political commentary for The Daily Show, jumped up.

  “He said it! He said ‘jobs!’ DRINK!” he shouted. Everyone around him simultaneously chugged the contents of their plastic cups. They weren’t watching the inauguration. They were using it for a drinking game. Evan laughed to herself. That was kind of genius. But definitely not something she would be reporting to Samantha.

  The group high-fived each other and refilled their cups. Taryn Reyes was in the center of the group and all the guys seemed to be trying to win her attention. Evan had seen her earlier that day in history class and she had looked a little shell-shocked (not that Evan blamed her). But she was all smiles now, and clearly having no trouble fitting in.

  Maybe I should carry around a drink, Evan suddenly thought. Everyone at the party was holding a plastic cup filled with some kind of alcohol. She didn’t want to stand out more than she already did. There must be a bar set up somewhere.

  She left the deafening sounds of the game room and entered the wood-paneled library, although it was no quieter in there. It was the coolest room Evan had ever seen, with its octagonal shape and twenty-foot high bookshelves filled to the brim with what looked like first-edition books. Though she was tempted, Evan would not let herself nerd out completely and check out the collection.

  “Evan!” Luke called out to her from across the room. He jumped up from his spot on the oversized loveseat and made his way over to her.

  “Hey,” she said, happy she now had her best friend by her side.

  “Just go with me on this, okay?” Luke whispered in her ear.

  “Go with you on what?”

  Without warning, Luke’s mouth was on hers. Kissing her. Like really kissing her. Evan’s mind was racing, but she didn’t know what to do…so she just went with it like Luke had asked. After a few moments, he pulled away.

  “Thanks,” he said with a devilish grin. “But try not to make it look so obvious that you’re in shock. People are looking at us.”

  “Why did you do that?” Evan asked him, attempting a casual smile for the sake of everyone watching.

  “I told you I
needed to be seen hooking up with a girl,” he said with a shrug.

  “Yeah, but you said it was going to be an intern.”

  “And I was about to make out with one five minutes ago until I realized she had this cold sore on the side of her lip. It was glaring at me like it couldn’t wait to jump off her face and on to mine. I couldn’t go through with it.”

  Evan immediately laughed at the visual and at the graveness of Luke’s face. She didn’t blame him. That sounded absolutely disgusting. “Glad I could help, I guess.”

  “You know, Evs, you’re a surprisingly good kisser.”

  Evan wasn’t sure whether she should be flattered or offended.

  “Jensen!” They both turned to see a few of Luke’s basketball buddies waving him over.

  “They probably want to high five me. Be right back,” Luke said, and headed in their direction.

  Evan bit her lip. She felt a little awkward all over again now that she was standing in the middle of the library all by herself. She scanned the room and saw a few people huddled around a keg.

  She grabbed a red plastic cup off the counter and approached the big silver barrel. There was some kind of pump lever on top attached to a hose contraption. She had no idea how in the world this thing was supposed to dispense beer.

  “Never tapped a keg before?”

  She looked up to see Hunter. Standing right next to her. Of course he was there to save the day. Evan probably turned six shades of red before answering.

  “Tapped?”

  Hunter laughed. “I got it.” Evan handed him the red cup she had taken off the counter. “You probably don’t want to use that one, though.”

  “Oh. Okay. Is something wrong with it?” Evan asked, embarrassed she had messed something up in front of Hunter.

  “It’s kind of lame, but it’s a G.A. party tradition. Conservatives drink out of red cups and Dems drink out of blue ones.”

  “You’re kidding me,” Evan deadpanned.

  “Nope,” Hunter said with a grin. “So unless I had you pegged all wrong…”

  Evan laughed and handed him a blue cup. He expertly maneuvered the pump thing and produced a cup of beer filled to the brim. Evan took a quick sip just so it wouldn’t spill on her. It was kind of bitter and watery, but she could hopefully take a few small sips and be fine.

  “This is my first G.A. party.” Evan had no idea why she felt the need to blurt that out. Of course now was the time she had to have a Joe Biden moment.

  “Really? What made tonight so special?” he asked, but not in a judgmental way. He seemed genuinely interested.

  “Just trying to shake things up I guess.” Evan was worried her truthful answer sounded dumb when she said it aloud.

  But Hunter was smiling. “To shaking things up.” He clinked his blue plastic cup against hers. She took another tiny sip of beer, hoping that in the time it took her to do that, she would think of something else to say.

  “Where’s Ellie?” She silently reprimanded herself as soon as the words found their way out of her mouth and landed like a thud between them. She wished she could suck them back in like a vacuum. Why, of all the topics she could have broached, was this the one she went with?

  “She’s around. She went to find Brinley. Some kind of crisis,” he answered with a good-natured shrug as if they were both in on the joke of how high-maintenance girls were. He seemed completely unaware that Evan was Ellie’s best friend before Brinley intervened. Ellie must not have thought that was ever worth mentioning to him.

  “So I didn’t know you and Luke Jensen were, uh…” Hunter’s voice trailed off with uncertainty, but his eyes were steadily fixed on hers.

  Holy crap. He had seen her kissing Luke and was…jealous was not exactly the right word. But he seemed interested. She didn’t know how to answer. She didn’t want to seem like she was this slutty girl who just walked around kissing random guys at parties. But she didn’t want Hunter to think she and Luke were together either.

  “It’s…complicated,” she answered slowly. Now she sounded like a Facebook page. Although anything was more attractive than telling Hunter she was actually Luke’s beard.

  Hunter refilled his beer, then asked, “So how was work today? Was it cool being on the inside of all the inauguration coverage?” It was their first continuance of a previous conversation. Like they were friends. Not that she wanted to just be Hunter’s friend, but still. Progress!

  “Yeah, it was. The inaugural speeches keep getting longer and longer, so there was a lot to dissect. I didn’t think he sounded long-winded, though.” Evan responded. Thankfully, she was much more comfortable talking about work than Luke.

  “Me either. He had a lot of bases to cover. And he hit the exact right tone. Like he actually wanted to shift away from all that toxic pandering from the other side during the campaign. This year was so ridiculous. It was like the meaner you were—”

  “The higher your numbers shot up,” Evan finished. She sometimes felt that way about G.A.

  “Do you know who gave the shortest inaugural address in history?” Hunter asked, the light blue in his eyes flickering.

  Evan smiled. “George Washington.”

  Hunter clinked her glass again, impressed, and Evan thought she might pass out from happiness, when suddenly Luke walked up. Evan wanted to strangle him as he greeted Hunter with the half-handshake, half-high-five thing all the basketball players gave each other.

  “There you are, Evs,” Luke said. And now he made it worse, making them seem even more like a couple! She tried to give him a pointed head motion, eye stare combo to indicate he should get lost, but it came off more like she was having muscle spasms.

  “Did the press secretary make it over to you guys yet?” Luke asked, ignoring her twitching.

  “No. I guess we were spared,” Hunter said. Evan loved that he seemed disinterested in whatever gossip Portia was circulating. It was further proof he was above all the incessant G.A. chatter that made Evan’s head hurt.

  “Apparently, Brinley just dumped Graham. Something to do with the secret service and anthrax.”

  Evan looked over to Hunter. Brinley was, after all, his girlfriend’s best friend. “I think I might have heard something like that,” he responded. “I should probably find Ellie and make sure everyone’s okay. I’ll see you guys later.”

  Evan wasn’t even upset this time when he said Ellie’s name. Hunter had just given her the lightest tap on the small of her back as he had walked away. It wasn’t exactly a declaration of love, but it was at least physical contact.

  “So are you happy you came to the party?” Luke asked her.

  Evan just nodded. She wasn’t in the starting line-up, but for the first time, she wasn’t on the sidelines either.

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  WARNING! You're about to spoil a great story by not making a choice! Page back, then click one of the links to advance the story. Otherwise, the next section may not make any sense to you.

  WARNING! Instead of trying to navigate to the previous page, hit the Back button if you have one or use the Table of Contents to go back to previous choice points.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Tuesday, 9:13pm.

  Brinley, aware of Brooks’s eyes on her, tried to stop fidgeting, as the town car pulled up the long gravel driveway.

  “Are you okay?” he asked. No, Brinley wanted to respond. The kicky Adderall buzz she had been feeling at home was beginning to wear off and she was seriously regretting her decision not to pop another one before they left. She had a pill in her purse, but there was no way to take it right now with Brooks in the back seat with her, watching her like a hawk.

  “I’m fine. I’m just irritated with Graham,” she said, which was also true. “I texted him that I was on the way and he hasn’t texted back yet.” He was probably annoyed about her storming out on him earlier. Brinley sighed. Another
person she’d have to apologize to, along with Ellie, of course.

  Finally, the car stopped and Brinley quickly stepped out. She had settled on a bronze organza Burberry dress that brought out the gold in her eyes and that she happened to know Graham loved on her. A few soft gold and diamond Bulgari bangles hung on her delicate wrist.

  The party was already in full swing as she and Brooks made their way to the front door. The massive, Antebellum-style mansion was impressive, even by Brinley’s standards: boasting impeccable, sprawling lawns and what looked like about a billion bedrooms. Anton Saratov, the junior who lived here, threw at least a few huge ragers each year. His father was a Russian diplomat which meant the cops couldn’t step foot on his property. Thank God for diplomatic immunity—it meant Brinley and everyone else at G.A. had the perfect house to party at. Not that they had problems getting around the law anyway.

  G.A. students were notorious for evading sticky situations. Just last year, a G.A. student had come forward to the headmaster about several of his fellow classmates who were smoking pot on campus. The students were at risk of expulsion until one of them made a call to her father, who also happened to be secretary of state at the time. All of a sudden, the administration pulled a miraculous about-face and pronounced that the students had merely been smoking oregano, which was perfectly legal and not against school policy. In Brinley’s mind, it was sweet justice that the only person who did get suspended was the pathetic tattletale who had brought it to the headmaster in the first place (and whose parents had barely contributed a grand at the G.A. Annual Giving Drive last year).

  Brinley had her own life preserver—someone so powerful in the Defense Department even the president was scared of him—to be utilized if she ever got in serious trouble. Though she never had to use him before, she was comforted by the fact he existed, just in case. She thought of him as her own little version of the red phone.