Page 36 of Prince of the Palisades

I hesitate. The last party wasn’t very productive. But can I afford to say no? How is sitting in that hollow Palisades house, the one that keeps reminding me I’mnotin the palace, goingto help me get home? Being antisocial isn’t going to prove I’m the prince anyone deserves.

Maybe Reiss will show up again? Because of Karan. Not because he wants to see me or anything.

“Jadon?” Grace scrutinizes me.

“Yes,” I manage, throat dry. “I’ll be there.”

She beams. Her shiny lip gloss matches the pink bows keeping blunt bangs off her forehead. “I’ll add you to the VIP list.”

After unlocking her phone, Grace frowns.

“Kaden?” Morgan says.

Grace doesn’t answer. She eyes the screen for a minute. Then, she blinks away whatever she was just thinking, smiling again. “We should plan a shopping trip. That way none of us wear the same costume.”

While Grace and Nathan trade ideas, I study the courtyard. It’s early October, and the sky’s a sharp blue. Students are slowly trickling in. A boy from my Human Development class—Seb?—strolls by in a leather jacket instead of his cardigan. Behind him, someone’s wearing a yellow beret and dramatic lilac cape.

I spin to Morgan, various pins scattered over her plaid vest. “What’s with the uniforms?”

She barely lifts her eyes from her phone. She’s always texting. I wonder who it is? Her mom or a sibling? I never ask.

“It’s all Headmaster Parker.” She locks her screen. “Back in her day, Willow Wood was very…conservative. Strict rules and expectations. She hated it. Said it made a lot of kids fail in a place where they were supposed to succeed.”

My eyebrows furrow.

“So, when she was put in charge, she changed the rules,” Morgan goes on.

“Within reason,” Nathan adds, rolling his eyes.

“To appease the old, boring donors who have hard-ons fortradition,” Morgan reasons, “we’re required to wear at least one piece of uniform the standard way. The rest is up for interpretation.”

I snort when Nathan stands, modelling a pair of gray slacks he’s chopped into shorts.

“She’s been good for the school,” Grace concedes. “Even if people disagree.”

For a moment, I think about that. How stifling tradition can be. How sticking to the same rules doesn’t bring steadiness. Sometimes, it brings failure. Sometimes, just one step outside of the lines is…freeing.

My eyes do another sweep of the area. At the courtyard’s edge, I catch a pair of yellow-and-black Air Jordan 1s. I slide my gaze up the legs, the torso, over the now-familiar shoulders of the sneakers’ owner.

Reiss.

A fuzziness creeps into my cheeks. I don’t know why the skin on the inside of my ankle heats up, like I can still feel his pressed right there. Why my heart’s volleying around my chest like a Wimbledon championship game. Why I’m suddenly noticing the fading dye in his hair leaves it sunrise pink. Why my fingers curl to fists in my lap when I see that he’s talking to a tall, freckle-faced boy.

They’re whispering. Phones out. Shoulders almost touching.

The boy’s head turns. His face so close to Reiss’s ear and—

“Earth to PJ.” Nathan waves a hand in front of my eyes.

I almost fall off the bench.

After recovering, I stammer, “What did you say?”

He laughs. “We’re headed inside.” Morgan and Grace are already hovering with weird expressions. Nathan kicks up his skateboard. “Need to get my morning constitutional in before Shakespeare class.”

“TMI,” Morgan groans.

“That’s the same thing Miss Gong said!”

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