Georgetown Academy, Book One

Chapter Six: Evan

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.”