I briefly explained all of that to Ms. Flores.
“So my question is: can I actually join the rowing club in my senior year with no real experience?” I said. “I know I have the upper body strength for it, and I’m fit. But I’ve never had the chance to actually row properly.”
She smiled. “You can still join. Our school sporting clubs cater to all levels of interest and ability. There’s a varsity rowing team, which is the main one, but there’s also a beginner division and an intermediate division. You’d join the beginner one to start, but if you’re good, I’m sure Coach Reilly will move you up to intermediate soon enough. Maybe even varsity if you’re really good.”
“What about college applications? Can I still put rowing club down as an extracurricular if I’m not on the varsity squad?”
She nodded. “Yes. Being on the varsity level only really matters if you’re looking to get a sports scholarship to college, or if you’re hoping to row competitively while you’re at college. If you’re not, that’s fine—you can still put the club down on your list of extracurriculars when you do your applications. Which, by the way, we can start working on soon, if you’d like.”
“Awesome. Thanks. Oh, and I have another question, too.”
“Go ahead.”
“I was wondering what the school was like in terms of student behavior. Is there much bullying?” I asked. “I’m just curious because I’ve heard some… rumors.”
Ms. Flores frowned. “I won’t lie to you, Laney. I have seen students get bullied here. It’s a school for some of the most elite, privileged kids in the country, so as you can imagine, some of them are a bit spoiled and enjoy throwing their weight around.”
“Oh.” My heart began to race.
“However, I’ve never seen a scholarship student get bullied,” she went on. “Not once.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really. In some schools, the less-privileged kids practically have targets on their backs, but it’s not like that here,” she said. “I promise I’m not just trying to make you feel better. It’s true.”
I gave her a small smile. “Well, that’s comforting. Thanks for letting me know. And I’m sorry for asking so many questions.”
“It’s fine. That’s what I’m here for,” Ms. Flores replied. “Anyway, here we are.”
She led me up to the fourth floor of Blair Hall. The interior was lined with dark wooden panels, bronze light sconces, and beautiful oil paintings.
“You mentioned something about an interest in the astronomy club?” Ms. Flores asked, turning back to look at me.
“Yes.”
“Well, you’re in luck,” she said. “There’s a little observatory in this building, just down the hall from your dorm.”
“Oh, wow. That’s cool.”
“This is your room.” She gestured to a polished oak door on our right. “Only your keycard can open it, so you’re guaranteed safety and privacy.”
I fished the keycard she gave me earlier out of my blazer pocket and swiped it in the lock. There was a clicking sound, and then Ms. Flores was able to open the door for me.
“Oh my god,” I said, marveling at the sight before me. “This is really all for me?”
The room was huge. Practically the size of my house back in Silvercreek. It was stunning, too, with cream-colored crown moldings, a marble fireplace on one side, and hardwood floors. A chandelier hung overhead, and the crystals spotted the pale gray walls in colorful fractals as the sun filtered through and hit them at the right angle.
There was a soft entry rug beneath my feet, patterned with rosettes, and on my left, a huge four-poster bed stood between two nightstands with Tiffany lamps. An eggshell white desk stood under one of the mullioned windows on the other side, and two doors a few feet away from that led to what I could only assume was a walk-in closet and a private bathroom.
All in all, I could probably finish college a dozen times over with the money it took to furnish this place.
“All yours,” Ms. Flores replied with a wide grin. “Except that fireplace doesn’t actually work, because the school doesn’t want to risk any accidents with the boarding students.”
“That’s fine,” I said. “There’s central heating anyway, isn’t there?”
“Of course. We can’t have our students freezing to death,” she said with a wink. “Also, just so you know, the dorm bathrooms have keycard locks on the doors, just like the main doors. That way, if you ever need to leave your main door open for some reason—while you’re moving things in or out of the dorm, for instance—no one can sneak in and steal anything you might have in the bathroom. Like important medications.”
“Wow, they’ve really thought of everything here, haven’t they?”
She gave me a rueful smile. “They had to implement the system after an incident a few years ago. Some students stole ADHD medication from their peers on orientation day and tried to sell it to others as study aids.”
“Yikes.”
She glanced at her watch. “Anyway, you can unpack your things later. I’ve arranged for another student to show you around the rest of the school, and she should be here any minute. She’s very nice.”
“Sounds good.”
“I’d do it myself, but I figured it would be helpful for you to have a current student explain things to you. Class layouts, the cafeteria, and so on. Probably better than having some crusty old adult do it.”
I laughed. “You aren’t crusty.”
She opened her mouth to respond, but a knock at the door cut her off. “That must be her now.”
She opened the door to reveal a tall girl with tanned skin and dark hair. She was attractive with high cheekbones and thick, dark eye makeup.
“Hi, Katrina!” Ms. Flores said, standing aside to let her in. “Thanks so much for doing this for me.”
“No problem.” The girl stepped inside and smiled at me. “You must be Delaney Collins.”
I returned her smile. “Yes. But everyone calls me Laney.”
“Nice. I’m Katrina Seaborne, but everyone calls me Trina. Or T.”
“See? You two already have something in common. You both shorten your names!” Ms. Flores said, as if it wasn’t a totally ordinary thing for people to do. “Anyway, I have a ton of paperwork to do, so I’ll leave you to it. And Katrina—seeing as you’re doing me this big favor, I’ll choose to ignore your not-so-tasteful makeup. Be careful around your teachers, though. They might not be so generous.”
Trina laughed. “Thanks, Ms. Flores.”
The guidance counselor smiled and headed out of my new room. As soon as she was gone, the smile faded from Trina’s face, and she advanced on me, eyes flashing.
“Listen up, new girl,” she hissed, pushing me against the wall. “You’re a scholarship student, and that means you’re lower than dirt around here. The rest of us pay ridiculous tuition fees just to cover sponges like you, so if you think we’re going to be nice to you, you’re completely deluding yourself.”
My eyes widened, and my stomach plummeted. “But I—”
Trina let go of my tie and cut me off, stony face relaxing into a wide grin. “I’m just kidding! Oh my god… your face!”
I licked my dry lips. I kept trying to formulate a response, but my heart was racing so fast that I couldn’t get the words out properly.
Trina’s brows shot up, and her hazel eyes filled with concern. “I’m so sorry! I thought it would be funny to make you think we’re all psycho elitists here. But it wasn’t funny, was it?” she said, words spilling out a mile a minute. “I feel like such a dick.”
I finally managed a shaky smile. “No, it’s okay. I get it. I’m just really nervous about my first day, and I had no idea what to expect, so I thought you might actually be serious.”
She groaned. “No, it’s not okay. I obviously scared the shit out of you,” she said. “I have the worst sense of humor ever. My friends are always getting on my case about my dumbass pranks and jokes.”
“So you don’t actually hate scholarship students?”
“Hell no! If you’re smart enough to get in here without having to pay a dime, then I salute you!” she replied, patting me on the shoulder. “Trust me. You’ll be fine. And really, I’m so sorry for scaring you. I don’t even know why I thought it would be funny.”
My face relaxed into a real smile. “It’s fine. I forgive you.”
“Good.” She grinned back at me.
“Do you board here too?” I asked.
She shook her head. “I’m a townie. I’m jealous of all the boarders, though. It’d be so cool to live right here on campus.”
“If you did, you could sleep in an extra half-hour in the mornings.”
“Exactly!” she replied. “Anyway, can I see your class schedule?”
I handed it to her, and her eyes sparkled as she scanned it. “We have almost all of the same classes,” she said excitedly. “That makes things way easier for you. I’ll be able to show you the right rooms as we go, and we can sit next to each other, too.”
“Awesome.”
“Anyway, let me show you around the main parts of the campus,” she said. “You’re definitely going to want to see the cafeteria. It’s amaze-balls.”
She led me over to Royal Hall and slung an arm around my shoulder as we headed down the main hallway. “Like I said before, I’ll show you the classrooms when we actually need to go to them,” she said. “For now I’ll just show you the senior lockers. They’re right around the corner.”
She led me into a slightly narrower hall lined with lockers. “Some of the boarders don’t bother using these, seeing as they can keep all their stuff in their dorms, but if I were you, I’d use one,” she explained to me. “It’s way easier to keep your books and stuff here, rather than running back and forth between here and Blair Hall all day.”
“Makes sense.”
“Can I see your student ID?”
I showed it to her, and she pointed to a number on the back. “That’s your locker number,” she said. “You’re only four down from me!”
“That’s cool. I guess we were meant to be friends, huh?”
She smiled. “Totally. Your combination will be somewhere in your registration packet. I assume Ms. Flores gave one to you?”
“Yes. I’ll figure it out later.”
“Cool. We’ll go to the cafeteria now.”
She directed me down another series of halls until we reached a towering Gothic arch with wide double doors. The panels on both doors were decorated with intricate carvings—a crown inside a shield, flanked by regal-looking lions. RFA’s main symbol.
“Through here,” Trina said, pushing on one of the doors.
I gasped when I saw the room beyond. With its high vaulted ceiling, tall stained-glass windows, marble flooring, smooth mahogany tables and ornate wall carvings, it looked more like an Ivy League college dining hall than a high school cafeteria.
“This is the main part,” Trina said, gesturing around us. “And through there, there’s an espresso bar.”
She pointed to an archway on the right, which led into what appeared to be a modern coffee shop.
“Oh my god,” I said breathlessly. “This is amazing.”
“I know, right? The food is great. Healthy, too, for the most part. Plus it’s all free.”
“Wow.”
“That side is where the freshmen and sophomores sit, and this side is for the juniors and seniors,” she said, pointing again.
The place was packed with students. “Why is it so busy this early in the morning?” I asked.
“Mostly because of the espresso bar,” Trina replied. “They make better coffee than any of the places in town, so most of the students get here early to grab some and hang out before class.”
“Oh, right.”
“I’m telling you, they make the best iced mochas. They have a ton of cream and choc sprinkles on top, and I swear, I gain five pounds every time I have one,” she said with a grin. “I’d offer to get you one, but it’s probably too cold today. Is regular coffee okay?”
“Sure. Thanks.”
“Okay. Be back in a minute.”
She left me to look around the cafeteria while she went to grab the drinks. I took a deep breath and tried my best to look relaxed.
It was obvious that nearly every student in this cavernous room hailed from riches and privilege. It was evident in the way they carried themselves, and the air of confidence surrounding the majority of them. They weren’t wearing golden crowns on their heads, but they might as well do exactly that. They were young American royalty.
A few of them glanced at me as I stood and waited for Trina. Most of them looked friendly, or at least neutral. Only a couple gave me stony-faced looks, but I figured they were just acting like that because they had no idea who I was.
“Here you go,” Trina said, returning with two coffees. She held one out to me.
I took a quick sip. “Wow, this is good.”
She beamed. “Told you. Anyway, got any questions so far?”
I swept my gaze around the massive room with all its bustling activity. “What’s RFA like in terms of cliques?” I asked. “At my old school, it was pretty stereotypical. One table in the cafeteria would be all football guys and cheerleaders, another would be for the arty kids, another would be for the stoner kids, and… well, you get the gist.”
Trina chewed on her bottom lip for a second. “Hm… I guess it’s a bit different here,” she said. “There are definitely different friend groups, and different tiers of popularity, but they aren’t really based around sports or academics. Or drug use.” She cast her eyes around the room. “If you’re worried about getting hassled, don’t be. I’ll look out for you. If anyone tries to give you crap, I’ll tell them to fuck all the way off.”
“Thanks.” I tilted my chin to one side. “Ms. Flores said bullying isn’t really a problem for scholarship students. Is that right?”
“Yeah, but you’re pretty. Like, super pretty. Some of the bitchy girls in the more popular groups might see you as a threat or something.”
I felt myself blushing to my roots. “Thanks for saying that. No one has ever called me ‘super pretty’ before,” I murmured. “Except my mom.”
Trina rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on. They totally have. Don’t be one of those annoying overly-modest girls.”
“No, really. I mean, I know I’m not a bridge troll, but look at those girls!” I said, nodding toward a table on our left.
The chairs were filled with some of the most gorgeous girls I’d ever seen. They were clearly the school’s ‘It’ girls. The pretty, popular ones who got all the attention and all the boys.
“Let me guess, you think they’re the bitchy ones I mentioned before?” Trina said, arching an eyebrow.
I shrugged. “I don’t know. But going by what most of the pretty girls at my old school were like, I’m going to assume… yes?”
She laughed. “They’re actually the nicest ones in school. No joke. I’ve never seen them be anything but nice to people. Not in a fake way, either. Like, genuinely nice. Pretty sure a lot of them are scholarship students, too, so you’d probably fit in really well with them.”
“Oh.” I swallowed hard, feeling bad for judging the girls solely on their glossy good looks. Here I was hoping that no one would judge me based on my appearance and background, and meanwhile I was doing just that to others. It was hypocritical as hell.
I vowed to stop it right away.
“If I’m ever not around, and you get lost, go to them. They’ll help you out,” she said. “They’re great. Honestly, they’re kind of like my idols.”
“Why?”
“Because they totally ignore the Princes. It’s hilarious.”
“The Princes?”
Trina scanned the room again. “Doesn’t look like any of them are here. But you’ll meet them eventually. They’re a group of guys who think the whole world revolves around them. Popular, hot, rich
, arrogant. You can imagine.”
“Yeah, I know the type.”
I knew from stories online that those types of guys were present at every elite school. They thrived on power and popularity, hopped up on hormones, convinced they owned the world and everyone in it. Entitled, aggressive, pretentious assholes.
“Anyway, those girls in the Supermodel Club, as I call them...” Trina nodded toward the table surrounded by beautiful girls again. “They never hook up with any of them. They think high school guys are too immature for them. Even the amazing Princes.”
I laughed. “I guess it must kill those guys to know that some of the hottest girls on campus won’t touch them with a ten foot pole.”
“I like to think so. But honestly, who knows? Every other girl in school fawns all over them and worships the ground they walk on, so for all I know, the guys don’t even notice,” she replied. “Anyway, should I show you the library and sports complex now?”
“Sure.”
Fifteen minutes later, after a brief library tour, Trina led me down a brick path toward a marble building that looked like a palace. A big golden plaque on one side read ‘Connery Hall’.
Trina saw me looking at it. “Oh, I forgot to tell you,” she said. “Most of the buildings are named after old Royal Falls families. The founders of RFA. And the town itself, of course. They still donate a lot to the school to keep it going.”
“Right.”
I should’ve known. The Connery family was one of the oldest and wealthiest in the state. Their fortune wasn’t just in the millions. It was in the billions. Tens of billions, if what my mother had guessed over the years was accurate.
“Anyway, the gym is in here,” Trina went on. “Your keycard will open the doors if it’s after-hours and you want to exercise.”
Savage Prince: A Dark High School Bully Romance (Royal Falls Elite Book 1) Page 3
