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“You can’t open with something like that andnotgive deets. Have you…with some ofNic’sfriends?”
“Yep,” she replies shamelessly.
I know my sister. I’ve always realized she was very different from me. Brazen, confident, beautiful.
Butstill.
“Bella! What if he finds out?”
I follow her, the room getting darker as we get further from the dim light of the fire.
She laughs. “You say that like he wasn’t watching.”
“Jesus!” I can’t help but scream.
“Do you have pearls you can clutch, grandma?” she teases, like I’m just a huge prude.
And maybe I am, if this is now the norm.
“You’re just seventeen!”
“I hate to break it to you, but most girls fuck at seventeen,” she scolds. “I can’t see a thing. Do you have your phone?”
I’m not letting her off the hook so easily. “I’m not that old; I remember high school. I know seniors have sex, Bels. But like, with different people? While others watch?”
I can’t see her well, but I’d swear she’s smiling. “It’s a thing. I like it. He likes it. It’s no big deal. We’re all super safe. And like, I’ve been engaged since I was a baby. It’s nice to experiment with other people, you know?”
I don’t know what to say. That had been one of my arguments to break off the engagement: teenagers should get to just date without the pressure of having an actual fiancé in the wings.
Looks like my sister found a way to have her cake and eat it too.
Not that my desire to date had driven the break-up; it was just a reasonable excuse I could use in front of the parents.
The truth is a hell of a lot more embarrassing.
SEVEN
Ivy
Then
I stare at myself from all angles in the large, ornate mirror. I have to be perfect for my first day.
Not that I’m really going to a new school as such: the Royal Academy of Anderia’s middle school where I’ve studied for the last three years is on the same grounds as the high school. But it might as well be in another universe.
For one, in middle school, our uniforms were simple: a long skirt no one was allowed to shorten—even an inch off would result in a trip to the principal’s office—black tights, flat, black shoes, and a long-sleeved shirt with a sweater and a blazer for the winter; the same with a short-sleeved shirt in the summer. No customization was permitted.
The high school’s not all that different: the fabric is still black and bottle green—the colors of Anderia—but there are no longer any restrictions on how we want to wear it. Skirts can be much shorter—the official guideline is one inch above the knees, but I’ve seen girls wear teeny, tiny ones which might as well have been belts. We don’t have to stick to black tights. I opted for white thigh-high socks today. We can also wear whatever shoes we want. It might clash a little with the green, but I opted for my favorite pair of crimson Mary Jane shoes today, with a headband to match, and several pins on the lapel of my blazer.
I look grown up. Which is essential, becausehe’sthere.
The middle school’s playground is tucked behind the school, gated and heavily guarded, but the high school students have a huge enclosed courtyard at the front of the building. There’s one single wall separating the two, where siblings sometimes hang out to exchange notes or lunch bags.
I never had any reason to get close to that wall: my little sister was in the middle school with me. But as often as I could, I’d pick a bench close by to peek into the courtyard and watch him.
Alessandro Valmont, earl of Folburgh, future duke of Osvald, golden prince of the realm of Anderia on his mother’s side, the most handsome boy in the world, and to my eternal bafflement, my fiancé.
Sometimes I’d wave when he caught me looking, through the gate or at school drop-off. He’d nod in answer. Once, he actually smiled.
