Total pages in book: 164
Estimated words: 157308 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 787(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 157308 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 787(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
“Vindictive,” I muttered. “Disturbing word choice.”
Darby Hall rose in the distance. Students streamed in—some in designer jeans and dresses, and some in pajamas. Neither wardrobe choice could be right or wrong since college cafeterias didn’t come with a dress code, and yet I was still underdressed.
Black marble floors filled the space, dotted all over with dark walnut tables with silverware and linen place settings. Fake lilies plopped in glass vases, and those vases sat atop each table as centerpieces. Katie got in line for a five-star buffet.
I left her—my jaw hanging open as I circled the food, reading the labels. French toast, ricotta pancakes, chocolate toast, pecan cinnamon buns, poached salmon, lobster frittata, and that was just the stuff on the buffet table. There was a separate list of items that were made to order. If this was a “decent” menu, I could only imagine what Katie’s chef whipped up for her daily.
I joined up with her in the line. “This is all included in the meal plan?”
“Yep. Breakfast is served from six to nine. Lunch from eleven to one. Dinner from six to nine. Remember that,” she ordered. “It’ll be on the test.”
I nodded, still taking it all in. I wondered if I’d ever get used to this life. Mom married my rich new stepdaddy four years before, but since he shipped me off to boarding school two weeks after the wedding—and the little mishap on his yacht—it’s been uniforms, nuns, and strict routines for me. Sister Agatha wasn’t taking anyone’s order of poached eggs with hollandaise sauce.
“What’s your deal, freshman?” Katie asked while munching on a slice of bacon. “Besides your appalling lack of fashion sense and understanding of germ transfer.”
It was my turn to shrug. “No deal. I graduated from St. Thomas’s Academy. It was a year-round school and the dress code was strict. Wasn’t much sense buying a whole bunch of clothes I couldn’t wear.” I glanced down at my threadbare jeans, Crocs, and purple plaid shirt. “But I could do with a trip to the mall.”
“Fuck’s sake, that’s putting it lightly. You look like a bored housewife who long since stopped being satisfied by her husband, and now gets her kicks masturbating behind a Dairy Queen while sneaking glances at the hot comanager on his smoke break.”
“Super specific.”
“Seriously,” Katie said, dropping a croissant on my plate. “Yuck.”
“I really get it. Anyway, what’s your deal?”
Katie squared her shoulders, and inadvertently pushed out her cleavage. “I’m Katie Langford of the Regent Langfords—as in Regent Langford Jewelers. My family has lived in Regalia since forever. We practically built half this school. For real, you don’t know how lucky you are that I’m even talking to you right now. We’re in different stratospheres, Lu-Lu. Me among the stars, and you”—she tapped my nose—“in a Dairy Queen parking lot.”
I hunched my back, trailing my leg across the tile. “It’s an honor to be in your presence, mistress.” I put on a dry, croaky voice. “May I kiss your shoes? After you wipe them on my back.”
Peals of laughter spilled out of her lips. “You’re such a freak.” I could be wrong, but I detected a trace of something other than contempt in her voice.
We got our food and headed for a booth in the back. My butt sank onto plush, black leather.
“So, here’s what you really need to know.” Katie speared a bit of smoked salmon. “The only two classes there really are in this place are the Royals and the Dregs. I’ll make it simple: I’m a Royal. You’re a Dreg.”
I ignored her millionth insult during the course of our short interaction. She was finally saying what I needed to hear.
“What makes you a Royal and me a Dreg? Money?”
She shook her head. “No. All of the Royals wear Prada, but wearing Prada doesn’t make you a Royal. You get me?”
“Um, no.”
Katie heaved a sigh. “Being a Royal is about status. It’s about standing on and off campus. My name is a worldwide brand. A Regent Langford bracelet is wrapped around the queen of England’s wrist. I have a reputation of class and elegance—”
I swallowed a snort.
“—that stretches back a thousand years. That doesn’t compare with Adriana Goddard over there, who’s the daughter of the dean’s third wife and former personal trainer. She doesn’t get a seat at the table just because her mom fucked her stepdaddy on it.”
“I got it,” I said simply.
Inside, my mind churned. This was good. I walked onto this campus thinking every rich prick was my enemy. It turns out the Royals are twice as exclusive as the admissions process. They were the ones Winter warned me to stay away from. The ones nobody could beat.
I watched Katie through my lashes. A Royal like you.
“Like I was saying, Dregs don’t talk to Royals. They don’t sit with them. They don’t eat with them. Dregs don’t take up more space than is necessary—and even then.”