Chapter Three
Chloe

The backyard garden of the seniors’ residence hall (which I finally found out was called the Elizabeth Briscoe Hall) was a riot of color. Shrubs in bloom dotted the grassy lawn. Here and there were stone benches engraved with images of fantasy scenes, and in the center a stone fountain, the statue of a ballerina mid-pirouette, water streaming out of the delicately pointed tips of her fingers and ballet-shoe-clad feet.

…

Okay, I notice architecture. So what?!

Emily led me towards one of the stone benches, situated by a bush dotted with yellow roses. Seated on the bench were two other girls. The shorter of the two had long brown curls, very pale skin, a sweetly-rounded face, doe-like brown eyes. The other had wavy blond hair, blue-gray eyes, a rosy complexion, and looked comfortingly familiar.

“Chloe!” Bella Kingsley called, getting to her feet and kissing me warmly on each cheek. “I see you’ve met our darling Emily. Hope she didn’t scare you too badly.”

“I don’t scare easily,” I replied, smirking proudly.

“So, you guys have met already?” asked Emily, glancing from me to Bella. “I should’ve known. The Brit here always makes friends with the new kids. Well, Chloe, since you already know Bella, this is Gabriela Scott, Austin’s girlfriend.”

Gabriela held out a hand, and we shook. “Nice to meet you, Chloe,” she said.

“Nice to meet you too,” I replied. There was something so genuinely nice and sweet about Gabriela that I couldn’t help but instantly like her. “You certainly picked one of the better ones,” I added.

Gabriela cutely tilted her head. “Hmm?”

“I meant Austin,” I clarified.

“Oh!” Gabriela’s eyes widened, a pleased smile coming to her lips. “Yes, he is nice, isn’t he?”

I scoffed. “Certainly nicer than that jackass friend of his.”

Gabriela giggled. “I assume you’re referring to Tristan Thorne.”

“Who else?” chortled Bella. “Gabs, darling, who else among Austin’s friends could have gotten on a person’s bad side so quickly?”

“True.”

“Speaking of which,” said Emily suddenly, “you two looked pretty pissed back there. You and Tristan, I mean. Something happened?”

Before I could answer (or opt not to), a chirpy voice merrily (and loudly) proclaimed, “My, my, look what we have here! Creston’s hottest babes all together. I think I’ve died and gone to heaven!”

I glanced up. Striding quickly across the lawn toward us was a tall boy with spiky blond hair and tanned skin. He wore a lopsided grin on his handsome face, and walked with a straight, confident gait.

“Brandon, hey!” Bella cried. She stood and exchanged cheek kisses with the newcomer (I could practically hear Leila squealing, “Oh, très European!”), then stepped back so Emily and Gabriela could hug him.

“Hey, ladies,” said Brandon smoothly, in a to-die-for British accent like Bella’s. “How was your summer?”

“Absolutely tedious, darling, without the excitement of your company,” replied Bella, winking. “And how was yours?”

“Dreadfully dull without my beauty queens,” said Brandon. Then he saw me and smiled. “Ah, and who would this be? Another lovely rose to brighten my day? What’s your name, sweetheart?”

I had just spent the previous few hours in a womanizing jerk-off’s company, so understandably I was a bit suspicious of the flirty Brandon. “Chloe Brier,” I replied warily.

“A pretty name for a pretty face.” Brandon smiled charmingly. “Brandon Pennington, at your service.”

“Hold on there, tiger,” said Emily, placing a hand warningly on Brandon’s shoulder. “Chloe’s just barely escaped Tristan Thorne’s clutches with her hands unsoiled by his blood. You might wanna put a lid on the flirting if you don’t want your nuts in a jar.”

Brandon gasped theatrically. “That horrible, horrible fiend,” he declared. “How anyone could stand to vex such a gorgeous babe, I’ll never know. Forget him, Chloe darling. Let’s you and I have some fun.”

“What part of ‘put a lid on the flirting’ didn’t you get, you whore?” said Gabriela teasingly. “Such misbehavior might prompt me to write to Drake, you know.”

“You wouldn’t!”

“I totally would.”

I was lost. “Who’s Drake?”

Brandon turned his blinding smile on me. “My boyfriend,” he said. “My utterly uptight, green-eyed-monster, totally-has-a-stick-up-his-ass boyfriend.”

“So you mean you’re—”

“Gay? Nope. I’m actually bisexual.” Brandon chuckled. “As Hannah Montana might say, I get the best of both worlds.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You watch Hannah Montana?” I asked.

“No, I just have a twelve-year-old teenybopper sister.”

“Ah.”

“How is Sunni, by the way?” asked Gabriela politely.

“Yes. Has she figured out yet that Austin offered to dance with her at the Christmas ball last year out of pity and not passionate, undying love?” added Bella dryly.

Ah, you gotta love tha English humor.

“Bella!” Gabriela admonished her.

“What? Oh, don’t give me that look, you know it’s true,” said Bella. “Honestly, Gabby, here we have some pre-adolescent hussy looking to get her claws into your man, and you don’t even put up a fuss?” She mournfully shook her head. “It’s the Pisces in you, I’m sure. Thank goodness I’m an Aquarius.”

“My sister is an Aquarius,” Emily piped up. “And she’s drunk, like, half the day,” she whispered.

“Are you implying that I, too, am ‘drunk, like, half the day’?”

“Of course not, Bell,” cooed Emily. “Although there was that one time at the Valentine’s Day party last year…”

“Ugh, do not remind me of that night, please. I have nightmares just thinking about it.” Bella grimaced. “Who would’ve thought there was actually enough beer in the world to get me to make out with Levi freaking Hallows, of all people?”

I stared at her.

“Oh, darling, don’t look at me like that. It was a moment of temporary alcohol-induced insanity! I have forever shunned the stuff since then.”

“I thought we were talking about my batty little sister,” said Brandon, an amused smile curling his lips.

Gabriela frowned at Bella. “Yes, we were.”

“Oh, yes,” said Bella, rolling her eyes. “Just make some fuss and then swoop in for the kill. It’s too easy! She’s a pubescent little tart.”

“Bells, it’s precisely because Sunni is a ‘pubescent little tart’ that I’m not making a big deal out of this,” said Gabriela sternly. “She’s completely harmless, I’m sure.”

“Gabriela, she put spiders in your bed! That is not harmless,” retorted Emily.

I raised my eyebrow. “Charming,” I said dryly.

“Oh, don’t worry so, darlings. I’ve given that girl a good talking-to, and anyway, mumsie’s promised she’d deal with it,” said Brandon nonchalantly. “Besides, Sunni’s off at that all-girls school of hers in Cornwall, while we’re here. Nothing to be done there.”

“Cornwall?” I repeated. “But that’s in England.”

“Why, yes, darling, it is in England. What’s your point?”

“Why on earth would your parents send your sister to school so far away?”

Brandon chuckled. “No, darling, you misunderstood. My family lives in St. Ives. In Cornwall. I’m actually the one sent to a boarding school practically halfway across the planet.”

“Oh.” I flushed. “I see.”

“Terrible place, really, St. Agnes’s. It’s a Catholic boarding school, run by nuns and everything. I positively despise organized religion, you know. Anything that even remotely promotes celibacy has got to be pure evil.”

I laughed. Now there was one line to use with Lola Juana when she came to visit us for Christmas. My maternal grandmother is a devoted, practicing Catholic. She celebrates all the damned holy days (ha, damned holy days—get it?), from the Quiapo Fiesta to the entire Holy Week. Once, she even made the long journey to Kalibo in Aklan to attend the Ati-Atihan Festival.

And she was adamant that her only granddaughter—me—be religiously devout as well.

“I feel your pain,” I told Brandon, then told them about my Lola Juana.

“‘Mercedes,’ she would scold my mother,” I said, “‘why you raise my apo to be godless, ah? Your tatay would turn in his grave if he knew Chloe here unbeliever. I say okay when you want to marry rich Kano, but then find out my apo doesn’t believe in God? You Americans and your modern, blasphemous ways,’” I groaned in Lola Juana’s cracked, soft voice. “Ain’t my grandma just a doll?”

Emily giggled and said, “Do that face again.”

I contorted my features into my grandmother’s disapproving glare, perfected from years of mimicking her behind her back, setting off another round of laughter.

“Well,” said Brandon, “I don’t know about you ladies, but I’d like to continue this excellent powwow someplace that has coffee. I’m absolutely jet-lagged, darlings, and require caffeine, snap-snap! That Starbucks on the south side of the campus just opened up for the year, and I have been dying for a chai latte.”

“Your treat, of course,” said Gabriela slyly.

“Of course,” said Brandon, smiling complacently.

He took us to the on-campus branch of Starbucks, the sleep-deprived student’s savior. On our way, I saw firsthand the sheer richness of the Creston family, and the utter luxuriousness of the school. They had practically every student-frequented eating joint known to mankind.

No, really!

We passed a Taco Bell, an IHOP, a McDonald’s, a Dairy Queen, a Dunkin’ Donuts, a Krispy Kreme, a KFC, a Pizza Hut, a Dippin’ Dots, a Häagen-Dazs, a Ben & Jerry’s, a Délifrance, a Wal-Mart (oddly enough), and…

I tried not to squeal. A Jollibee!

I’m half-Filipino. Liking Jollibee is in my blood.

We stepped inside the warm, snazzy-decorated, cozy interior. Cool bebop jazz piped over the PA system—Charlie Parker’s Donna Lee, I think. Some of the tables were already occupied by other students. We went up to the counter, where a chubby redhead wearing a Starbucks apron over her beige slacks and black shirt waited to take our orders.

“Hello girls,” greeted the barista cheerfully. “And Brandon.”

“How nice of you not to lump me in with these nasty, hormonal creatures.”

Emily cleared her throat significantly, Bella scowled, I crossed my arms over my chest, and Gabriela raised an eyebrow.

The barista laughed. “Careful there, Brandon, I’ve seen these three girls kill for less. And who’s this pretty lady?”

“Chloe Brier,” I introduced myself.

“Nice to meet you, Chloe. I’m Annie Tomlinson. I slave away here at this particular branch of Starbucks, because the big boss has no better place to put a woman of my talents than some godforsaken spit of land housing five-hundred or so bratty teens.” She winked at Brandon and the girls. “Present bratty teens not included!”

I laughed. “Nice to meet you too, Annie. And, in fairness, I got stuck on this godforsaken spit of land housing five-hundred or so bratty teens too. Present bratty teens not included,” I added, grinning.

“Why, thank you, ladies, you sure know how to make a gal feel welcome,” teased Emily.

“Well, let’s cut the chatter and get down to business,” said Annie efficiently. “What’ll it be?”

“I’ll have a grande mint chocolate chip frappuccino,” said Gabriela.

“A grande Tazo chai latte,” said Brandon.

“A tall skinny vanilla latte, sugar-free syrup,” said Bella.

“I’ll have a tall caramel macchiato,” said Emily.

“A grande peppermint white chocolate mocha for me,” I finished.

“Grande mint chocolate chip frappuccino, a grande Tazo chai latte, a tall skinny vanilla latte with sugar-free syrup, a tall caramel macchiato, and a grande peppermint white chocolate mocha,” said Annie. “Bobby, didja get that?” she called to one of her coworkers.

“Got it, Annie.”

Brandon quickly paid Annie, and I offered to wait at the counter for our drinks. Emily and Bella shooed a couple of freshmen away from their usual table, while Brandon and Gabriela helped me carry the drinks over.

We sat there for quite some time, sipping our coffee and exchanging stories. Brandon, who, I discovered, was even more of a gossip than Bella was (which is pretty gossipy), pouted when Bella informed him she’d already told me about Monica St. James’s disastrous underwear gaffe.

“I never get to dish the good dirt,” he complained good-naturedly.

“Fine, fine.” Bella made a peace sign with her fingers. “All right then, since I got dibs on The Great Underwear Debacle, you get to tell her about Monica’s sexcapade at that sophomores’ party Tristan threw two years ago.”

“Okay, I forgive you,” said Brandon contentedly. Then he proceeded to spin a tale of Miss Lacy Thong, a basketball jock, a party, cheap beer, and unprotected sex in one of the faculty lounges.

“Oh, yeah, I just remembered!” said Emily suddenly, when the laughter had subsided. “You still haven’t explained to us what happened that got you and Tristan so riled up.”

I fell silent.

Gabriela sighed. “If I were you, Chloe, dear,” she said sympathetically, “I’d just tell them. Bella and Brandon are the queens of gossip”—she ignored Brandon’s protesting mutter—“and there’s no stopping them. And Emily is like a sister to Tristan. I bet you he’ll tell her. And Tristan would’ve told his friends, which means I could get it from Austin—although I never would, considering it’s entirely your business,” she added kindly.

I love that girl.

But we were outnumbered.

Oh well.

Gabriela was right. Sooner or later, they’d get the story.

Better the truth from me than some cock-and-bull apeshit lie cooked up by Tristan and his cronies to make me look like some desperate sexless hag.

So I told them everything,

And sat through a full thirty minutes of gales of uproarious laughter.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” I muttered. At least Gabriela was visibly trying not to react.

Once again, I say, I love that girl.

“Hey, guys,” said Emily suddenly, glancing at her watch. “The year opening assembly’s at five o’clock, right? It’s already a quarter to four.”

“Uh-oh,” said Gabriela. “Let’s book, before Tristan and the guys get there.”

As we disposed of the cups, I asked Brandon, “What does Gabby mean ‘before Tristan and the guys get there’?”

“Oh, simple,” said Brandon, grinning. “If you get to the auditorium after Tristan and the other guys get there, you’re considered wa-a-aylate, as opposed to your normal late-late, and thus, you get a corresponding sanction.”

“I see.”

Wow. Boy, do I have a lot to learn about this school.

It didn’t take too long to walk from the S District, which is what the students called the part of the island that had all the restaurants and the Wal-Mart, to the auditorium. A cobbled stone path led east from the main building to the auditorium, a long building done in shiny hardwood. It was the kind of auditorium designed like movie theaters, the kind that sloped down to the stage.

“Excellent, the good seats haven’t been taken yet,” said Gabriela. “Come on.” She led the way to the row at the very back, at the topmost part of the auditorium.

Some students were already occupying the middle rows. Soon, others came streaming in, and the auditorium was filled with hushed whispers and hissed giggles as friends called out to each other and people argued over seats.

I looked around to try and spot the people I knew. There was Lydia Bourne, the girl who’d turned her nose up at me back in the headmaster’s office. She’d apparently been inducted into the ranks of the silicone squeak-toys, because a gaggle of vapid-faced babes, including Monica St. James, surrounded her, the whole lot of them giggling like a pack of tanned, slutty hyenas.

There was also Michelle Ayers, the timid little sophomore. And there was Jerome Dalton, still dressed in his neat clothes and shined shoes. He was followed closely by Austin Rosedale. Gabriela leapt to her feet and waved madly to catch his attention. Austin spotted her, grinned, and loped off in our direction.

“Hey girls,” said Austin, settling himself in the seat next to Gabriela. “And Brandon,” he added, smiling slightly.

Brandon nodded approvingly. “How nice of you not to lump me in with these—”

Four death glares turned his way.

Brandon smiled weakly. “—wonderful, sweet, gorgeous creatures,” he finished.

Austin raised an eyebrow. “Right.”

“Where are Tristan and the others?” Gabriela asked him.

“Oh. They’re still at Briscoe, bitching about Chl—oh! Chloe, hi!”

I smirked. “Nice recover.”

Austin’s face fell. “Sorry.”

I waved off his apology. “Don’t worry about it. I know what a pack of assholes Tristan and his friends are—present company not included, of course.”

The chatter in the auditorium ceased as Mr. Donnelly strode smartly across the stage to the microphone set up in the center. “Good evening,” he began. “To our new students, welcome. To our old students, welcome back. Now, I know you’re all hungry, and listening to a speech is that last thing you’ll want to do”—he paused as a wave of laughter swept the audience—“but please bear with me. I’ll keep it short, I promise.

“Freshmen, your schedules, room assignments, maps, and keys will be handed out shortly after the assembly. You will stay with the same roommate, in the same room number, even as you move from the freshmen’s hall to the seniors’ hall, so please don’t forget the assignments. A complete list of rules and regulations is available for perusal in the main building, so please, feel free to check that out.

“The dining hall on the second floor of the main building only serves dinner. You may have breakfast and lunch either in your rooms, or in the Lilia Shopping District. Each room comes equipped with a fully-stocked kitchenette, and supplies may be purchased cheaply at the Wal-Mart in the S District. The S District also has many restaurants such as IHOP and Starbucks where you may purchase food. This is done to encourage independence and self-reliance in our students, to prepare you for the real world.

“There are many after-school and weekend clubs and teams to join. You may join The Vanguard, Creston’s official school publication. There’s the art club, the photography club, the science club, the math club, and the drama club. For sports we have basketball, volleyball, soccer, football, lacrosse, baseball, swimming, track and field, fencing, and tennis. There’s also the cheerleading team and the debate team.

Mr. Donnelly suddenly stopped. “Misters Thorne, Rourke, and Hallows, you’re late,” he sighed in a tired monotone.

I narrowed my eyes and stared straight at the doors of the auditorium, where Tristan Thorne was standing in all his proud, arrogant glory.

Author’s Notes:

Well, finally got that chapter out! Yeah! :3

Just a request here…can someone tell me if boarding schools have cheerleaders? I’m just assuming they do.

I took off the Q&As and decided I’d just answer it on the story itself if the question was asked by more than five readers, so less space would be taken up by my useless ramblings. :D

And, totally off-topic, but I watched Obama’s inauguration concert and the inauguration itself (and flinched with the rest of the world when the Chief Justice made that blunder), and I have to say, his speeches were totally amazing. In Filipino, ang lakas ng dating niya. Hope for America has been reignited!

Oh, yeah, I almost forgot! Tomorrow is my class’s bivouac (sort of a survival test thing), so I’ll probably be too tired to update anytime soon. But no worries! The new chapter will be out as soon as I can get it up.

Okay…that sounded so wrong.

Ah, whatever.

Okay guys! Go review!