by Connie Glynn
‘Where did you say you were from again?’ Anastacia said coolly.
Crap!
Lottie opened her mouth but couldn’t seem to form any words. She could feel her palms going clammy. This is it – now’s the time to come clean and tell them about the misunderstanding. Do it! Quickly!
‘ … I’m not –’
‘Students of Rosewood, welcome!’ A melodic voice rang out across the field, immediately capturing everyone’s attention. Lottie turned to see an Indonesian lady, possibly in her forties, wearing a white suit with a purple rose brooch on her chest. She stood at the centre of the outdoor stage, arms outstretched, like she was beckoning to the world. Professor Adina Devine was every bit as mesmerizing in person as she had been in Lottie’s mind. She exuded a powerful aura. As she smiled out at the gathered Rosewood students and faculty, there was such genuine warmth behind her eyes that Lottie felt the look was personally intended for her. Professor Devine’s pristine white suit, lit by the stage lights, appeared to glow in the dark, and the long overlapping shadows behind her intersected like giant iridescent wings. Lottie looked over at the others and found they were all as deeply captivated by the deputy headmistress as she was. To Professor Devine’s left was a larger woman with long flowing hair, who was covered in jewels and wearing a yellow rose, and to her right was a tall bald ebony-skinned woman with fiery eyes, who was wearing a red rose: the Stratus and Conch house mothers, respectively. And behind them, barely noticeable in the shadows, was a stout-looking man, who resembled a baked bean thanks to his short stature and red face. Lottie instantly recognized him as Professor Croak, headmaster of Rosewood and a fantastically underwhelming individual when placed next to these three forces of nature.
Professor Devine went on, now that she had her audience’s attention. ‘Before we continue with the festivities I must inform you that the outdoor swimming pool by Conch House is undergoing refurbishment and is strictly out of bounds until after Christmas. I expect you all to respect these orders or there will be serious punishment.’ She paused to give the crowd a stern look, hinting at how terrifying she could be. Satisfied, she went back to her speech.
‘Righteous, Resolute and Resourceful! These are the three pillars of Rosewood Hall and each house is the keeper of one of these pillars and each pillar supports the other. At Rosewood Hall we believe that each student, teacher, house and company must rely on one another to achieve greatness. Each house needs the other to truly reach its potential and it is through the unity of all these pillars of aspiration that we will prosper.’
Kind, brave, unstoppable. Righteous, resolute, resourceful. Lottie couldn’t help feeling her own mantra fitted well, and felt the fire of her determination to succeed at this school burn inside her.
‘To those of you returning to us from your summer holiday, we are delighted to have you back and I encourage and anticipate that you shall all strive to achieve even greater feats than last year. To those of you who are new to us, I give you an extra-special welcome and ask that you take this moment to look around at your fellow students.’ Lottie complied, turning to Lola and Micky, who grinned back at her and made a peace sign. ‘Among your peers is an endless fountain of potential. One of you is likely to be the next ruler of a country, an Olympic gold medallist, a Nobel Peace Prize winner.’ Raphael gave a little bow to Binah at the mention of this and she mimed an act of humble acceptance in response that made Lottie and the others have to stifle their laughter. ‘Do not fail the potential you have within you. This school aches to see you reach your most exceptional self: use your time here wisely; use your time here to become remarkable and above all never give up on yourself, or each other.’
Unstoppable.
‘Thank you, everyone, and enjoy this year at Rosewood.’
Lottie stood for a moment in wonder as Professor Devine left the stage and walked off in a glowing pool of pristine white. Headmaster Croak nodded to the professor and slowly approached the podium with a happy little smile on his face, adding hastily, ‘Enjoy the fireworks!’ before following the women off the stage.
Everyone looked up as the first firework went off in a magnificent burst of yellow. It was quickly followed by a succession of multicoloured spurts, fizzling in the sky. Lottie slowly let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.
‘They’re like trained assassins,’ Binah’s voice whispered softly in Lottie’s ear, once again making her jump in surprise. ‘Partizans, that is. They’re trained from a young age in many fields from languages to martial arts and are assigned to a single member of an important family or group. And they will stop at nothing to protect them.’
Lottie had almost forgotten about the whole Partizan thing; she’d been so engrossed in Professor Devine’s speech. The idea of secret trained bodyguards seemed a little over the top, and yet … she turned again to look at the fireworks. In the distance she could see the reception building that she’d come through that morning, with its grand arched doorway that separated Rosewood from the rest of the world. Everything glowed with the lights of the fireworks, dazzling flashes highlighting the architecture. It truly was like she’d entered a magical realm. Were lethal undercover guards necessary here?
‘There’s not so much need for them in our modern society,’ Binah continued, ‘but some people still hire them as a status symbol.’
Binah leaned back and glanced at one of the suited guards. She smiled wistfully. ‘I find the idea of them quite romantic, don’t you?’
Lottie followed Binah’s gaze. Romantic? It wasn’t exactly how she’d describe a potential personal killer, but she had to admit it was pretty exciting.
I wonder if I’ll ever meet one …
After the fireworks, when Lottie got back to her dorm room, she almost tripped over a small white gift bag that had been left by her door. She picked it up curiously, wondering if maybe it was for Ellie but the tag on the handle read: For the Pumpkin princess.
Lottie prepared herself for some kind of mean jab at her last name but instead found something far more bizarre. She carefully pulled out a tattered book called The Company of Wolves. She scrutinized it for a moment in confusion then flicked through the pages. There, on the inside of the cover, in gold calligraphy was written:
I know your secret.
7
Lottie woke up with a heavy feeling in her chest. She hadn’t slept very well, trying to figure out what the ‘gift’ had meant and who it was from. She’d wanted to ask Ellie if she’d seen anything but her room-mate had been asleep when she got back. Another more worrying thought had occurred to Lottie, that maybe Ellie had left it – had she even bothered to attend the speech and fireworks? – but pushed that notion out of her mind …
She had this horrible sick feeling in her stomach that the gift might refer to the ‘from another country’ misunderstanding. They probably all thought she was some awful liar. She decided that first thing that morning she was going to march straight to Stratus Side and tell Binah and the rest of them before her first class.
As they headed into the Ivy Wood dining hall together, Lottie just grabbed a piece of toast and mumbled an excuse to Ellie, saying she had ‘some business to attend to’. Ellie, aloof as always, simply nodded and offered to sign in Lottie if she wanted to skip their first class.
‘What? Oh, gosh, no. I would never dream of doing something like that. I couldn’t skip my first class!’ Lottie was shocked at how easily Ellie suggested it.
Ellie smirked at her response but didn’t press her.
‘Well, I’m gonna make the most of this famous Rosewood breakfast. Come back and join me if you finish your “business” early, but if not I’ll see you in class.’ Ellie grinned at her, chucking a blueberry into her mouth and winking.
Lottie gazed at Ellie’s pile of food with envy. She would have given anything to stay for the magnificent breakfast buffet, laid out with every possible breakfast food you could imagine. Wooden tables lined the high-ceilinged hall, while huge w
indows looked out over the garden with a clear view of the pond and the statue of Ryley the deer. Lottie took one last lingering look before shoving her toast in her mouth and legging it out of Ivy Wood and up the hill towards Stratus Side.
To Lottie’s disappointment, when she reached Stratus Side she found she didn’t have access. She was about to give up and head back to breakfast when a large blonde woman came bustling down the corridor with an armful of art supplies.
‘Oopsy!’ The woman missed a step and proceeded to drop all her stuff over the floor, revealing her face. Lottie instantly recognized her from last night’s welcome party as Ms Kuma, the Stratus house mother. Immediately Lottie bent down to pick up the fallen items. Ms Kuma was a wonderfully poetic woman; as well as being the Stratus house mother, she was also head of the English department and would be teaching Lottie her favourite subject. She dressed in deep colours, unafraid of bold patterns and adorned herself in spellbinding jewels. Something about her seemed supernatural, like she might be capable of making the impossible happen.
‘Oh, thank you …?’ She paused to allow Lottie to give her name.
‘Lottie,’ she replied, grabbing the last item from the floor.
‘Thank you, Lottie. That’s very kind of you. I need to get this back to the art-supply cupboard before our staff meeting, but goodness knows how I’ll get there in time.’
‘I can do it – just pass everything to me,’ offered Lottie with no hesitation.
‘Oh, that would be marvellous,’ Ms Kuma said, and clapped her hands together, a melodic trill in her voice. ‘It’s the little wooden door if you follow the corridor to the end and go down the right set of stairs.’
Lottie smiled up at her new teacher, careful to keep her balance. ‘No problem!’
It was tricky to get down the stairs with her arms full and she almost walked right past the art-supply cupboard door, which was tiny with a strange wooden knob that looked like a face. It looked like it belonged in Wonderland, not a school building.
She eased the door open to find that it wasn’t quite a cupboard as such but a small cluttered room with shelves crammed with art supplies, and chests of drawers lining the back wall. She was carefully putting everything away when a huge pot of glitter fell off one of the shelves.
‘Oh no!’ Lottie groaned but then fell silent as she watched, mesmerized, as the cloud of glitter wafted through the air, settling behind one of the sets of drawers. Intrigued, Lottie heaved the drawers back with all her strength and gasped at what she found behind it. There was a hatch in the wall, hidden by the drawers. There was a small metal handle that sparkled, calling for her to open it. Curiosity got the better of her; she opened the hatch and began crawling through the tiny space. Inside was mostly wooden board and heaps of discarded fabrics. There was plenty of space for her to crawl but it was far too dark not to be a little bit creepy. In the distance she could hear the sound of rushing water and wondered how far out this tunnel went. She could see weak rays of light filtering into the tunnel, possibly from side openings, and began hurriedly crawling towards them while trying to keep as quiet as possible.
After a few minutes, she heard a familiar giggle from an opening ahead of her. It was Lola. Lottie crept forward and discreetly peeked round the corner.
‘She looks like she could be a princess, I guess … You know, with all that pink.’
Lottie almost yelped as she came face-to-face with Lola and Anastacia. But they didn’t seem to see her; in fact Lola continued fixing her hair, as she spoke, and Lottie realized in shock, I’m behind a mirror!
‘I thought Pumpkin was kind of an odd name.’ Lola snorted. ‘Do you think she transforms at the stroke of midnight?’ She began inanely giggling at her own joke.
Lottie almost choked. They were talking about her … and they seemed to think she was a princess? Lottie willed her breath to be as quiet as possible as she listened on.
‘It’s true, she’s the undercover princess – it’s the only logical explanation,’ Anastacia replied.
This took Lottie completely by surprise. Had she misheard or was Anastacia, the most serious person she’d ever met, genuinely suggesting that Lottie was an undercover princess? Was this a joke? Or did that mean there was really a princess somewhere in the school?
The gift!
Was this what that creepy message in the book had been about? An unpleasant shiver ran up Lottie’s spine for whoever the real princess was.
‘Are you serious? How are you so sure?’ said Lola.
Lottie leaned forward, listening intently to catch every word.
‘Well –’ Anastacia paused and moved closer to Lola – ‘you didn’t hear it from me, but I heard a rumour from someone else that the unannounced princess of Maradova chose Rosewood over Aston Court and look …’ She pulled a magazine out of her bag and flicked to a page, which Lottie couldn’t see. ‘That’s the queen of Maradova. Doesn’t she look familiar?’
‘Holy chocolate biscuit!’
Lottie jumped and had to cover her mouth to stop from accidentally squeaking with laughter at this strange outcry from Lola.
‘Shh, quiet,’ Anastacia snapped. ‘We cannot tell anyone. If this is true, then she obviously wants to keep her identity secret. Why else would she come up with a fake name like Lottie Pumpkin?’
Lottie felt a little wounded at this jab at her name. She’d spent a lifetime defending her unusual name and now it appeared to have got her caught in some strange princess theory.
‘Besides,’ Anastacia added, ‘if she is the princess of Maradova, I definitely want to be on her good side.’
Lottie almost burst out laughing at this. The scenario had become too surreal. She wondered momentarily if she’d ever even made it to Rosewood Hall at all. Maybe she’d fallen asleep on the train and this was all some elaborate dream. The idea that anyone could ever think someone as plain as her could be a princess made her feel like a terrible phoney. How could they not see how completely ridiculous that was?
‘The rumour is that she wants to lead a normal life,’ said Anastacia.
Lottie thought back to the previous night and their reaction to her not knowing what a Partizan was.
They must think I was pretending!
‘But surely people know what the princess looks like?’ argued Lola. ‘Surely you’ve seen her at one of the international events?’
Lottie leaned in further, curious about this too.
‘She never attends any; she refuses – part of the whole I want to be a normal girl thing.’
Lottie felt her mind boggle at the idea of anyone wanting to be normal, especially a princess. What kind of person was this princess of Maradova?
‘Micky and I definitely won’t say anything, and Binah is always discreet and … Raphael will do whatever you say –’
‘Good,’ said Anastacia, quickly cutting her off. ‘Then it’s just between the five of us, OK?’
‘OK,’ replied Lola.
‘No way,’ Lottie breathed from behind the mirror.
She had to fix this rumour before it got out of control.
8
Even though it was on the other side of Rosewood, Lottie made it to her first class fifteen minutes early. She looked down at her new uniform regretfully. With all the running around she had been doing, her purple Ivy pinafore had become significantly crinkled already, with a touch of glitter from her tumble in the supply cupboard.
Ellie arrived just before the bell went and took a seat at the desk next to her. She had opted for a tight pair of the purple tartan trousers and a set of braces with a shirt underneath showcasing the Ivy emblem of a stag on the pocket. All she needed was a buzz cut and she’d look like a classic sixties skinhead.
Lottie sailed through her first two classes effortlessly. English was one of her best subjects, and having helped Ms Kuma that morning she’d cemented herself as a favourite student. It wasn’t until her lesson before lunch that she felt the weight of how intense the Rosewood classes could b
e. Maths had never been Lottie’s strong point – she’d had to work extra hard on the maths part of her Rosewood application – and although she tried her best to concentrate she soon became distracted thinking about how she could quell the rumour when she saw Anastacia and the others at lunch. How should she bring it up? Should she tell them she heard their conversation and that they had got it wrong?
‘Oh, hey, guys. I was spying on you earlier in the girls’ loos after I followed a magical cloud of glitter to a secret passage and I thought you should know I’m not actually an undercover princess, but thanks for the compliment. Love ya.’
Yeah … somehow she didn’t see that going down well. To take her mind off it, she began doodling tiaras and gowns in her notebook, wondering what the princess of Maradova was really like.
‘Miss Pumpkin, would you please remove your head from whatever cloud it is in and complete the equation?’
Lottie blinked at the sound of her name and looked up to find the whole class staring at her. She instinctively turned to Ellie, who had revealed herself to be a maths prodigy. She’d raced through the textbook work and would probably be moved on to an advanced class pretty soon. It made Lottie feel completely inadequate sitting next to her. She gave Ellie a pleading look but was met with a side smile.
Mr Trigwell was clearly not the type of teacher to let daydreaming slide, and she could not have planned a worse first interaction. He was tall and thin in an almost inhuman way, as if his limbs were a little too long for his body. His nose was slightly hooked and his build paired with his attire reminded her of the Slender Man urban legend she’d read about online. She struggled with maths on a good day, but, with her distracted mind and her instinctive fear of Mr Slender-Man–Trigwell, her inability to think logically with numbers was amplified to an embarrassing level. She finished the class with ‘extra homework for Lottie Pumpkin’ as her ‘distracted mind is craving something to fill up the empty space’. She was mortified: she refused to fall behind in any subject and she had to prove herself, but she didn’t know how she would get ahead in maths without a supportive teacher.
