Page 34 of Her Royal Highness
We were told to wear our galoshes today, and I did, but I can still feel the bite of the cold water through the rubber as I step into the loch.
Jumping into the boat, I situate myself on the bench, taking up my oars while Flora’s still dangle in the rowlocks.
Apparently, I’ll be rowing us on my own.
And that’s fine with me. Boats are not exactly my specialty, but I’m strong enough, and the water is flat and smooth as we glide across it. I feel my spirits lift a bit as I take a deep breath, smelling the mineral scent of the loch, the freshness of the breeze, the—
“You’re making the singing face again.”
I scowl at Flora, the moment ruined. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a boat passing us, and I row a little harder.
“Can I ask you a question and get a serious answer?” I ask Flora even as I yank the oars with all my might.
On the other side of the boat, Flora rests her chin in her hand again. “Probably not.”
That’s honest at least.
I pull on the oars, the wood creaking, and our boat barely inches across the lake. The wind has picked up, whipping tiny waves that set us rocking, and suddenly the water just under us seems very dark and forbidding and possibly filled with monsters.
So I take my eyes off that, and put them back on Flora to ask, “What exactly have I done to make you dislike me so much? Other than the Veruca Salt thing, which, given the way you were acting that morning, was fair.”
“I don’t dislike you,” Flora says with a shrug, her giant sunglasses still covering half her face. She’s got the collar of her shirt turned up underneath her Gregorstoun-issue sweater vest. Her dull orange life jacket is just a little too big, and her long hair blows in the breeze as I attempt to row us.
“You could’ve fooled me,” I reply, and Flora sighs, leaning back in the boat, her legs stretched out in front of her.
“I just say whatever comes to mind,” she says. “Sometimes it’s nice, sometimes it’s not so nice. Depends, really. You shouldn’t take it personally.”
I gape at her, the oars still in the water. “So the other day, when you asked if I was going to start crying or singing, that wasn’t personal?”
“I genuinely thought you might start crying or singing.” Another shrug, this one a lazy, barely-there lift of the shoulders.
“Saying you thought Saks took me on as a ‘charity case’?”
“She’s always finding someone who’s not exactly in her set to befriend. She’s practically famous for it. And while you’re not truly tragic, you’renotan aristocrat, so...”
I give the oars another yank.
“Okay, how about how you refuse to call me by my name?”
“Quintisyour name, is it not?”
“It is, b-but—” I start to splutter, then, rolling my eyes, I heft the oars again. “Okay, fine. So none of those things are mean in your view. And I guess having your friends gang up on me in the hallway was also some kind of—”
“What friends?” Flora says, sitting up.
I nod across the lake to where Caroline and Ilse are lazily rowing their boat, clearly not interested in a dinner at the Bayview Inn.
Flora follows my gaze, squinting across the water. “Caro and Il?” She snorts. “Hardly friends, darling.”
“You hang out with them all the time,” I remind her, and she tosses her hair over her shoulders, fixing me with a look.
“Areyoufriends with everyone you hang out with?” she asks with a raised eyebrow and a smirk.
I stare at her. “Yes?”
Another scoffing sound, and then she’s picking up the oars and sliding them into the water.
She pulls hard, and to my shock, the boat lurches in the water, shooting ahead of Saks and Elisabeth, who are next to us and starting to go in circles.
