Her Royal Highness (Royals #2) - Rachel Hawkins Page 0,23

face the inner courtyard of the house, so not much light gets through. There are only a couple of lamps on in the room, adding to the whole gloomy feel, and while we sit in fairly regular desks, there’s no whiteboard or projector, no flag hanging near the door, no posters reminding us of important historical dates. It’s like the only effort they made to make this place a school was to drop some desks in and call it a day.

And I like it.

Class wraps up, and today’s notes only have a few of those “????s” in them, so I’m considering that a win as I head out into the hall, only to suddenly find myself surrounded by Glamazons.

Okay, maybe “surrounded” is unfair when there are just two of them, but they’re still extremely tall and extremely shiny of hair, and as I look up at them, I realize they’re the two girls I most often see hanging around Flora.

“Hi,” I say, pointing between them. “Just need to scooch by—”

But the brunette moves in closer to the blonde, cutting off my escape.

So it’s like that.

“Caroline,” the blonde one says, “isn’t this the sad little American who took Rose’s spot?”

“Hmmm,” the brunette muses, pretending to think it over. “Do you know what, Ilse? I think it is!”

A handful of people are still moving past us, and I glance up, hoping to see Sakshi or Perry in the mix. Or really anyone who doesn’t look like a supermodel determined to Mean Girl me.

But everyone who passes us seems to be very aggressively not looking in our direction, and I realize I’m on my own here.

“I’m pretty sure I didn’t take anyone’s place,” I say, then attempt the scooch maneuver again. “So I’ll just scooooooch—”

“They only offer one full scholarship a year, did you know that?” Caroline asks. Up close, her features are a little too sharp to call her beautiful, but there’s something about the way she holds her shoulders back, chin lifted, that makes her seem more impressive than she is.

“I didn’t,” I say now, still looking for a way around them. Being New Millie Who Confronts People has only gotten me into trouble thus far, so it’s back to Millie Who Avoids This Kind of Thing from here on out.

But I couldn’t help adding, “I earned that scholarship, but I’m sorry that—”

Scoffing, Ilse steps closer. “Earned. Rose’s family has sent students to Gregorstoun since its inception. This is the first year there hasn’t been a Haddon-Waverly at Gregorstoun.”

“Thanks to you,” Caroline adds. “She was devastated when she found out they’d decided to give the scholarship to some little upstart from nowhere.”

I gape at them. I can’t help it. Upstart? Are we in Victorian times? Do they think I was selling flowers on a street corner somewhere?

“Why would one of your friends need a scholarship anyway? Don’t you people have tons of money because of . . . peasants? And oppression?”

Caroline’s lips thin as she folds her arms over her chest and glares down at me. “You really have no idea how anything works, do you?”

Heaving out a sigh, I shift my satchel of books to my other shoulder. “I don’t, believe me. Now can I please scooch?”

I press my palms together, gesturing to the sliver of space between them, and Ilse moves closer. “Lord, Flora was not kidding about you.”

Great, so we’re at the “implying someone said nasty things about you” portion of this whole deal, and I’m about to reply that I don’t care what Flora has said, when I suddenly hear Sakshi’s voice, ringing out loud and clear.

“Are the two of you finished?”

Caroline and Ilse turn to see all 567 feet of Sakshi standing there, her long dark hair falling over her shoulders and the most perfectly disdainful, bored expression on her face. It’s so great that I make a note to immediately start practicing it in the mirror. I have a feeling I’m going to need that look.

To my surprise, it totally works on Caroline and Ilse, too. They throw me a couple of nasty glances, but they slink off without any other snide remarks, and Saks dusts her hands like she’s just completed an unpleasant but necessary task.

“Those two,” she says, shaking her head; then she steps forward, her expression concerned as she touches my arm. “Are you all right?”

“Fine,” I tell her, smiling. “I went to a giant high school in Texas, so mean girls are nothing new. And honestly their attempt at bullying was