Page 17 of Nobody in Particular

“Will you help me put it on?” Alfie asks.

Words failing me, I work the clasp until I manage to attach the thing to his wrist. In my peripheral vision, I discover that Mum and Father are standing with the Paget-Harringtons, and all four adults are watching us with approval.

Was this an accident?

Alfie notices his parents’ attention, and he holds his wrist up to them, beaming. They beckon him over to take a closer look, and as he passes, nearby guests curiously crane their necks to get a better look at the new trinket on his wrist.

I suppose they think this is rather significant. Perhaps they fancy they’re the first to discover a romantic link between Alfie and me. That there is a chance, however small, that they’re looking at the boy who will one day grow up to be their king.

I catch William watching me, and we lock eyes. Of course Father didn’t remember Alfie’s birthday, nor expect that I might not. Not on his own, anyway. It’s not his job to worry about trivial aspects of my life. But it is somebody’s job.

I suppress a sigh and send a subtle, questioning shrug toward William, who shrugs right back, as though to ask me if I’m truly upset. And I suppose, now I’m past the shock of it, I’m not.

William, it seems, has finally figured out how to distract some of our most distinguished subjects from the fact that their future queen caused the death of an innocent boy.

To think, all it took was a thirty-thousand-euro watch.

NINEDANNI

In an all-girls school, there’s no day more awesome than the day your brother school comes to visit. At least, that’s what everyone keeps telling me.

The Ashford boys arrive by the busload not long after lunch and head straight to the field. There’s an inter-school rugby match on today against some school called St. Benedict’s, and even though it’s optional to attend, we’ve all had our timetables cleared for the afternoon. “Optional” is a figure of speech, apparently, because when I ask Molly as we walk over if I can ditch early to get some piano practice in this afternoon she chokes on the air she sucks in.

“You can’t miss the game,” she says. We’re bracing ourselves against an icy wind—it’s been raining all morning. For a while, everyone was freaking out that the game might get canceled due to a thunderstorm, but luckily it let up around third period.

On my other side, Eleanor nods vigorously as she pulls her dark curls into a ponytail. “There are guys. Playing in the mud. In little shorts.”

“Well, sure,” Molly says. “But it’s also a social thing. Everyone goes. You don’t want to be the girl who doesn’t go to games.”

“You could meet the love of your life,” Eleanor says. “I first saw Santi at a rugby game.”

“Oh, is Santi the love of your life now?” Rose asks.

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I think he might be.”

“Have you mentioned that to him yet?”

“Not yet, no.”

“Have you talked to him at all yet?” Molly chimes in.

Eleanor crosses her arms over her chest and shrugs. “I’m getting there. I’ve been waiting for a sign from the universe.”

Rose snorts. “Ah. Great plan. Flawless.”

Eleanor gives her the side-eye and doesn’t answer.

When we reach the assembly hall, Rose and Eleanor break away from us to head over near the podium, where the other prefects are already standing. Molly steers me through the seats until we find Florence and Harriet, and we fill the empty spots they’ve saved for us.

People are staring at me, and my stomach drops when I realize what they’re looking at. I’m literally the only person I can see without the optional sweater, and you’d think I spat on the school flag or something. One girl whispers to her friend, who whirls around to look me up and down. Another girl wrinkles her nose and shakes her head a little. Another bunch burst out laughing and take turns telling each other off for looking at me so obviously. I shove my fists into my pockets and pretend I can’t see them, even though I know my fiery cheeks must be giving me away.

On the stage, the prefects gather into a line and a hush falls over the crowd.

The head girl, a senior named Clara, takes a step forward from the line, brandishing a wooden board above her head. On it is a coat of arms. Each half displays a design of an animal in black and gold: a stag on one side, a wolf on the other. In the background a black rose snakes up around the emblem, wrapping both the animals in a chokehold. Clara stalks the front of the group to make sure everyone gets a good look at it.

“It’s time to take the oath,” she announces, and the backs in the audience straighten. “Stand.”

I glance at Molly, lost. “Just copy us,” she whispers. “It’s simple enough.”

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