Read Online Reckless by Cecily von Ziegesar - Free Book Online
Authors: Cecily von Ziegesar
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anguish.
“He does have a really nice ass.” Celine pushed open the front door of the science center and the three girls headed down the steps and toward Stansfield Hall. “But you could get close to that without having to be his lab partner,” she pointed out with a giggle.
Brett rolled her eyes, her mind on other things. It had sounded like the whole freaking dorm was on the roof last night. Not that Brett
wanted
to be there or anything, but it still would have been nice if someone had asked.
Whatever. At least now she wasn’t the one in trouble. As Benny and Celine prattled on, Brett kept her face composed, knowing she looked completely innocent in her pale pink Nanette Lepore baby doll dress, black leggings, and pale gray Sigerson Morrison ballet flats. She smiled to herself. Even her nails looked nice.
Once inside the Stansfield board room, Brett headed over to the committee side of the enormous table with Benny and Celine right behind her. Rows of girls in uncomfortable-looking folding chairs stared out at her from across the room, their knees pressed together primly, maroon blazers neatly buttoned. It was weird to see so many defendants for a DC case—usually it was one or two stray delinquents, although once the whole Thespian Society had been summoned after they famously performed
Our Town
wearing only Saran wrap.
Dean Marymount, wearing a tie with Van Gogh sunflowers splattered all over it, entered the room and immediately stopped short at the sight of Brett and the other DC girls sitting on their accustomed side of the table. “Ladies.” He made a shooing gesture with his hands. “Please take a seat with the rest of your dormmates.” He gave them a withering look as if they should have known better.
Brett’s jaw dropped, and she glanced at Benny, who looked equally surprised. “Sir?” Brett spoke up. “But we … I—”
Marymount cut her off. “You three live in Dumbarton, don’t you?” Marymount didn’t wait for an answer and sat down at the end of the table, shuffling through the papers in his hands.
Well, then.
Her cheeks flushed as red as her hair, Brett stood up in a huff and headed over to where Jenny was sitting in the front row. She flopped into the empty seat next to her. “We didn’t even go to their stupid party,” she growled under her breath.
Jenny patted Brett’s arm. “It’ll be okay. What can they do? Suspend us for doing our nails in our dorm room?”
“You’ll see,” Brett replied skeptically.
Jenny’s chocolate-colored eyes looked vaguely worried as the two of them watched the room fill up with girls. It was totally weird for Brett to be on
this
side of the table. The girls were biting their manicured nails and tapping the toes of their shoes against the shiny wooden floor, whispering to each other a little too loudly.
“Asshole,” Jenny heard someone say. At the table, Ryan Reynolds and the non-Dumbarton members of the DC, mostly freshmen and sophomores, had taken their seats next to petite Miss Rose of the English Department, who had taken over as the temporary DC adviser after Mr. Dalton’s resignation. With her black turtleneck beneath her probably size-zero maroon blazer and her dark brown hair pulled back into a neat pony-tail, she could have easily passed for a freshman.
“Let’s get started, shall we?” Marymount looked tired, his round wire-rimmed glasses making his small blue eyes seem even smaller. He continued to flip through the papers in his hand, which Brett guessed had absolutely nothing at all to do with the keg bust last night. He just liked his props. “Mr. Wilde, you were the first one to notice the, um,
gathering
while walking by Dumbarton last night, correct?”
“Yes, correct.” Mild-mannered Mr. Wilde looked uncomfortable in his role as disciplinarian. He was one of those teachers who really cared whether or not his AP History students liked him, and the walls of his office were plastered with posters of album covers—not
“He does have a really nice ass.” Celine pushed open the front door of the science center and the three girls headed down the steps and toward Stansfield Hall. “But you could get close to that without having to be his lab partner,” she pointed out with a giggle.
Brett rolled her eyes, her mind on other things. It had sounded like the whole freaking dorm was on the roof last night. Not that Brett
wanted
to be there or anything, but it still would have been nice if someone had asked.
Whatever. At least now she wasn’t the one in trouble. As Benny and Celine prattled on, Brett kept her face composed, knowing she looked completely innocent in her pale pink Nanette Lepore baby doll dress, black leggings, and pale gray Sigerson Morrison ballet flats. She smiled to herself. Even her nails looked nice.
Once inside the Stansfield board room, Brett headed over to the committee side of the enormous table with Benny and Celine right behind her. Rows of girls in uncomfortable-looking folding chairs stared out at her from across the room, their knees pressed together primly, maroon blazers neatly buttoned. It was weird to see so many defendants for a DC case—usually it was one or two stray delinquents, although once the whole Thespian Society had been summoned after they famously performed
Our Town
wearing only Saran wrap.
Dean Marymount, wearing a tie with Van Gogh sunflowers splattered all over it, entered the room and immediately stopped short at the sight of Brett and the other DC girls sitting on their accustomed side of the table. “Ladies.” He made a shooing gesture with his hands. “Please take a seat with the rest of your dormmates.” He gave them a withering look as if they should have known better.
Brett’s jaw dropped, and she glanced at Benny, who looked equally surprised. “Sir?” Brett spoke up. “But we … I—”
Marymount cut her off. “You three live in Dumbarton, don’t you?” Marymount didn’t wait for an answer and sat down at the end of the table, shuffling through the papers in his hands.
Well, then.
Her cheeks flushed as red as her hair, Brett stood up in a huff and headed over to where Jenny was sitting in the front row. She flopped into the empty seat next to her. “We didn’t even go to their stupid party,” she growled under her breath.
Jenny patted Brett’s arm. “It’ll be okay. What can they do? Suspend us for doing our nails in our dorm room?”
“You’ll see,” Brett replied skeptically.
Jenny’s chocolate-colored eyes looked vaguely worried as the two of them watched the room fill up with girls. It was totally weird for Brett to be on
this
side of the table. The girls were biting their manicured nails and tapping the toes of their shoes against the shiny wooden floor, whispering to each other a little too loudly.
“Asshole,” Jenny heard someone say. At the table, Ryan Reynolds and the non-Dumbarton members of the DC, mostly freshmen and sophomores, had taken their seats next to petite Miss Rose of the English Department, who had taken over as the temporary DC adviser after Mr. Dalton’s resignation. With her black turtleneck beneath her probably size-zero maroon blazer and her dark brown hair pulled back into a neat pony-tail, she could have easily passed for a freshman.
“Let’s get started, shall we?” Marymount looked tired, his round wire-rimmed glasses making his small blue eyes seem even smaller. He continued to flip through the papers in his hand, which Brett guessed had absolutely nothing at all to do with the keg bust last night. He just liked his props. “Mr. Wilde, you were the first one to notice the, um,
gathering
while walking by Dumbarton last night, correct?”
“Yes, correct.” Mild-mannered Mr. Wilde looked uncomfortable in his role as disciplinarian. He was one of those teachers who really cared whether or not his AP History students liked him, and the walls of his office were plastered with posters of album covers—not
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