Maraschino 🍒 (gxg)

9

"No fucking way."

"Yeah... I'm not making this up."

Two days had passed since Chelsea and Paige's makeout session. Chelsea refrained herself from spilling the beans the moment she saw her again, and that was probably for a good reason; Carlie jumped at any gossipy opportunity, and by telling her later rather than sooner, there wasn't anything for her to ask. It's old news at that point.

"That's bold of her," said Carlie, almost in a bored tone. She was folding laundry -- boring school uniforms, not her regular clothes -- talking to Chelsea. Chelsea, herself, was unpacking the rest of her stuff. It'd been a whole week and she still had things packed away, tossed to the side for when she felt like getting to it. "Can't say I'm too surprised, though."

"Has she done that kind of thing before?"

"Oh, yeah," she said with a laugh; it was more sour than humored. "That's basically why she's here. She's a nymphomaniac."

Chelsea raised an eyebrow. A brash statement like that needed to be fact checked if it came out of Carlie Boston's mouth. "Is that true or are you just saying that?"

She shook her head. "No, I heard it from someone else here. Her parents sent her here so she couldn't fuck anyone. I don't think they expected her to go both ways when she got carted off."

So it's still a rumor. Chelsea didn't bother fighting for a real answer. She went back to unpacking her things.

"By the way," said Carlie after several moments of silence. "Steph and I have plans to go downtown for a party tonight. You wanna join?"

"Like, downtown L.A.?"

"Yeah."

It would be nice to get away from the academy -- it'd only been a week but Chelsea already felt drained of all her energy. School was much more exhausting when you lived there. It'd also been a good minute since Chelsea went to a party; she was on criminal lockdown most of the summer before being shipped off.

"I'm down. I don't think I have anything to wear, though."

Carlie grinned. "Awesome. And I probably have something for you, don't worry."

Knowing Carlie, it was going to be something risque -- an obscenely short skirt or a shirt that's more of a jacket than a blouse, maybe -- but she didn't say anything. Maybe Carlie would be more perceptive on what actually fit her style.

She turned to Carlie, a question on her mind. "They just let us wander off for the weekends? That seems counterintuitive."

"Nah, you need a permission slip. I sign for my mom all the time."

"Then how am I going to get off campus? My mom's not going to come up here just to sign a slip of paper."

Carlie smiled a cat-like smile, placing the last bundle of clothes in her dresser and knocking it shut with her hip. "There's ways around that."

Shortly after making plans, Stephanie was in their room, also getting her things ready for the weekend. They were mapping out what they wanted to do, where they wanted to go, laying out the streets of L.A. in Chelsea's head -- like she didn't already know what it looked like. She'd failed to ever mention she was from that area; she let Carlie keep talking, regardless.

"So, here's what we're going to do." Carlie was fiddling with her earrings, trying to sling two-inch hoops through her ears. Her suitcase was in front of her, nearly stuffed with clothes, makeup, and accessories. It always confused Chelsea why girls needed so many things for one weekend. "I'm going to try to work my magic on Norris because I'm not sure if I have an extra permission slip lying around. If he says no, then I guess we're ditching you here because we're already running late."