Welcome to Bridgeport Academy, an elite boarding school in New York where glamorous rich kids don't let rules get in the way of a good time.
[ Based on the It Girl series by Cecily Von Ziegesar ]
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Portraiture class met only twice a week, on Tuesdays and Fridays, and Kae had been eagerly anticipating the first class of the year. Bridgeport had a great art program and a glass-walled riverfront gallery with student-directed public shows. Often student pieces even sold for surprising sums.
Normally you had to submit work to be accepted to portraiture class, but since Kae had been admitted to Bridgeport on the strength of her art portfolio, she'd been allowed into the class her first semester. Art was her favorite subject and she couldn't wait to smell the paint and lose herself in the process of making something new.
And yes, seeing Chris would be pretty exciting too. Especially now that she had permission to flirt with him!
The class was in a building called Jameson House, a country cottage with a stone chimney and a clothesline outside of tie-dyed American flags from one of last year's fabric-making projects. Inside, the unfinished floors creaked, and all sorts of random drawings and half-finished color studies were pinned up to the wall. Kae looked around, just breathing it all in.
"Welcome, welcome," called Mrs. Silver, her art teacher, who wore oversized overalls and a tie-dyed shirt she'd definitely made herself. The room had sloping ceilings, slanted art desks, and a wall of cathedral-size windows pouring in light. Mrs. Silver's desk was a mess of paintbrushes, old glass bottles, thick art books, flash cards, and a two-liter jug of Mountain Dew. Mrs. Silver was messier than Kae's father. She bet the two of them would really hit it off.
"Oh, Chris!" she called. "I'm so happy to see you! Did you have a lovely summer?"
Kae turned. Chris strode up to Mrs. Silver and kissed her tenderly on her cheek. "Hey, Miss S." He scanned the classroom and his dark eyes lingered on Kae for a second. She realized that the only empty desk in the classroom was right next to hers.
"Okay, everyone," Mrs. Silver announced. "Let's get right to it, because I know you kids are eager. I'm passing out sketch paper and mirrors now. We'll start on rough sketches of our self-portraits." A collective groan rose up. Self-portraits were the worst.
Chris slowly walked to the desk next to Kae's, his eyes focused on her the whole time. He threw his knapsack under the desk and sat down on the adjacent short metal stool. Then he slowly unraveled his headphones from his neck and wrapped the cord around his slim white iPhone. He leaned over and wrote on Kae's desk with a stub of charcoal, Hey. His handwriting was boyish and spiky.
Hello, Kae wrote right underneath it in elegant cursive.
Mrs. Silver handed out charcoal, markers, mirrors, and rolls of shelf paper to each student. Kae stared at her reflection. Her eyes revealed the sea of nerves inside of her. It's okay, she told herself. Robyn told you to flirt. But had Robyn told her to have heart palpitations?
"So, did Mr. Jordan give you a hard time?" Chris whispered.
"Not really," Kae whispered back. She wondered if Robyn had told him that she hadn't made a decision about whether to take the blame or not yet.
