Page 25 of Prince of the Palisades

I choke. It’s not the auditioning part that trips me up. I pretend at almost every moment in my life. Memorizing a monologue is easy. It’s committing to one more thing that might not change how anyone feels about me. Something that won’t impress my parents or get me home any sooner.

“Wait,” I try. “I didn’t—”

“You’re doing it, Jade. Crown princess, remember?” Shepoints at herself, ignoring my screwed-up face to swipe over my phone screen. “Now that that’s settled, let’s talk aboutthis.”

Annika has exited Willow Wood’s account and opened my last Instagram search—the profile of one @TheReelReiss.

There’s a small chance I got bored in Physics today. Spent half of class figuring out how to spell Reiss’s name correctly: like the British football player, not the peanut butter–filled candy. Browsed his grid—careful not to accidentally like any of his photos—during lunch. It’s nothing. I was simply gathering intel on the enemy.

“He’s cute,” Annika says.

“Not my type,” I immediately announce.

“I like his hair. Nice smile too.”

“It’s horrible. There should be laws against…looking like that.”

She rolls her eyes. “Is he into filmmaking?”

“Something like that.” The second my tone softens, Annika’s lips curl up in that triumphant way I truly hate. Flustered, I say, “I mean, I don’t know. I don’t care either. It’s not like we’ve had conversations or whatever.”

“See. Mediocre acting skills.” Annika laughs. “What happened to American boys not being worth your time?”

“They’renot.” I snatch my phone back. “None of them.”

“Is this about Léon?”

I wince. Why does everyone keep bringing him up? Why does hearing his name still feel like a wooden splinter buried so deep beneath my skin I’d rather cut off a finger than wait for the ache to stop?

“I’m good,” I assert. “Reiss is…just someone at school. Nobody.”

This time, she cackles. “You’re so bad at this. They probably won’t even give you a speaking part in the play.”

Great, now I’ll be next in line for the throne, because I’m clearly going to drown my sister in the pool. It’s a shame. She had a promising future.

Before I can begin my ascension to crown prince status, Luc gasps, “Oh! No, no, no,” throwing a hand over his mouth.

I startle to my feet. “Is it a security threat? Did someone die?”

Luc tugs out his earbuds, lowering the tablet. “Unfortunately, no.” He sags defeatedly. “They eliminated Jennie from the villa.”

“I’m sorry”—I blink multiple times—“who?”

Annika flops into her former position on the lounge chair. “He’s obsessed withParadise or Purgatory.”

“The reality dating series?” I almost scream, incredulous.

Luc’s nose wrinkles like I just said something unforgivable about his family. “It’s a brilliant examination of greed, betrayal, and the promise of love. A masterpiece.”

Annika shakes her head. “You’re a sad human,” she says, returning to her book.

When school ends on Thursday, I walk over to Gratton Hall. It houses the three-hundred-seat auditorium where auditions are being held. The main floor is buzzing. Small groups of students partnering up to rehearse lines. A red-faced girl staresinto the void while, opposite her, a boy does loud breathing exercises.

Some of the conversations drop out as I pass. Two students glare, as if I’m stepping on their territory. I smile without acknowledging them.

Good. They know I’m a threat.

For the last forty-eight hours, I’ve been practicing my monologue with Annika. It’s the butler Wadsworth’s over-the-top retelling of how the murders happened. I’d never heard ofClue, but a handful of YouTube clips informed me it’s a murder-mystery comedy. I can be funny. Stage acting can’t bethat hard.

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