American Royals (24 page)

Nina tossed and turned listlessly. Her eyes were closed, but she knew she wouldn’t fall asleep, despite the blackout shades she’d ordered online and stapled to the top molding of her window. Well, it
was
one p.m.

She’d been hiding in her dorm room ever since those horrible articles came out the other day—when the paparazzi set up camp outside her dorm. The few times Nina did leave for class, or to work at the library, she’d texted Rachel and Logan to come meet her at the door. They would stand protectively on either side of her while Nina shoved her way forward, trying her best to ignore the paparazzi’s shouts.

Nina, give us a smile!
they cried out.
Nina, when’s Jeff coming to visit?
When she kept her head down and didn’t answer, they began saying much worse things, calling her cruel, nasty names. Nina knew they were just trying to upset her, because pictures of her walking weren’t any good to them. They needed a shot of her crying—or better yet, yelling—to get a real payout from the trashy blogs that bought these photos.

Even when she did make it to a lecture, Nina felt the weight of everyone’s stares. She’d seen more than one student surreptitiously take out a phone and snap a picture of her looking disheveled and sad. The one time Nina had ventured to the campus convenience store, to buy shampoo and tissues, she’d seen her own face all over the magazines at the checkout counter. One of the headlines actually read, NINA TELLS JEFF: “I’M KEEPING THE BABY!”

She went back and bought an extra-large box of tampons after she saw that one.

Her parents kept calling to check on her, to ask whether Nina wanted to come home for a while, but Nina insisted she was fine. It was one thing for the press to start attacking her, but the way they’d been treating her parents was completely out of line. At least when she stayed at the dorms, she drew the paparazzi away from her family’s house.

A knock sounded at her door. Nina shifted, squeezing her eyes shut. “Wrong room,” she called out. The only person who ever came over was Rachel, and she was in class right now. The same history class that Nina was supposed to be in. Well, at least she knew Rachel would share her notes from the lecture.

The knock sounded again, a familiar one-two-three knock that could only come from one person. It used to be their secret knock, back when they played at being knights in a castle. “Please, Nina? I want to talk,” called out Princess Samantha.

Nina’s stomach twisted. She’d been avoiding Sam the past few days, for almost the same reason she was avoiding Jeff—she didn’t know what to say to her. It was all so unbelievably
weird.

She tore herself reluctantly from bed and went to unlock the door, hitting the light switch so the fluorescent bulbs flared to life.

“Nina!” Sam tilted forward a little, as if she were about to throw her arms around her friend in one of her usual hugs, then seemed to change her mind. She stood uncertainly in the doorway.

Suddenly, Nina saw her room through Samantha’s eyes. It was smaller than Sam’s closet, and had the worn, lived-in look that comes from decades of students. Note cards were tacked over every last inch of the wall, covered in Nina’s blocky handwriting. She was always writing things down: literary quotes, reminders to herself. Alongside the note cards were collages of pictures—of Nina with her parents, or hanging out with her college friends. There wasn’t a single photo of Nina and Sam.

Sam had noticed; Nina saw from the way she pursed her lips. But she didn’t say anything.

“Hey, Sam. Um, you can come in.” Nina gestured to the twin bed, which was starting to look a little rumpled and stale. Sam climbed obediently up onto the blue paisley bedspread, but Nina had gone to stand near the window, to peek behind the shade. The reporters were all still gathered there, their lenses gleaming hungrily in the afternoon sun, though they had taken a few respectful steps back in deference to Sam’s bodyguard, who stood at the door with arms crossed.

“I kept expecting to hear from you,” Sam said quietly, as Nina came to perch on the bed.

“I sent you a text.” Nina glanced at the carpet, evading Sam’s gaze. She knew she owed her friend more than that single message. But every time she’d pulled out her phone to call Sam, she’d thought of how the conversation would go—the apology she would have to give, for keeping this a secret—and had put it off. She had plenty to worry about without adding Sam’s hurt feelings to the mix.

Sam leaned forward, her legs crisscrossed before her. “Why didn’t you feel like you could tell me about you and Jeff?”

So many reasons.
Nina tried to think of the simplest. “I didn’t know what would happen between us,” she said honestly. “I didn’t want to make things weirder than they needed to be, in case it didn’t work out.”

Apparently it was the wrong thing to say. “So if you guys had broken up before this happened, you would never have told me?” Sam asked, visibly hurt. “I keep thinking about all the things we did in Telluride … that comment I made, about how I wanted to find Jeff a girlfriend. Were the two of you laughing at me behind my back the entire time?”

Nina blinked.
We weren’t thinking of
you
at all,
she wanted to reply. Didn’t Sam understand that this hadn’t been all fun and games for her—that it had made her miserable?

Sam sighed. “I’m just saying that I’m your best friend, and I had to find out from the tabloids, the same as the rest of the world.”

“You’re also Jeff’s twin sister,” Nina felt the need to point out. “He kept this from you just as much as I did.”

“He and I have already talked about it,” Sam informed her. “About twenty minutes after the article came out.” She didn’t need to say more; the implication was clear. She thought Nina was a bad friend for avoiding her these past few days.

Nina couldn’t hold her tongue any longer. “Sorry I haven’t prioritized your feelings while my life was falling to pieces around me.”

Sam winced at her tone. “Right. It just … hasn’t been the easiest week for me, either. Teddy and Beatrice got engaged. They’re going to announce it at a press conference soon.” She sighed and glanced down. “I really liked him, you know? I
still
like him. I get that Beatrice has to marry someone, because she’s the future queen, and that her choices are limited. But couldn’t she have chosen someone else?”

Nina stared at her friend. “Seriously?”

“I know, isn’t it messed up?”

“I’m talking about
you,
Sam! That’s really why you came by?” Nina’s words came out quickly, fueled by an anger that surprised her. “I thought you wanted to talk to me about Jeff, or the fact that most of America apparently hates me. But instead of coming here to support me, you’re actually here because you wanted to vent about Beatrice and Teddy!”

Sam bit her lip. “I’m sorry. I just … needed a friend right now.”

“So do I,” Nina said meaningfully.

Sam’s eyes darted toward the blacked-out window. “The paparazzi will lose interest soon,” she promised, clearly trying to be helpful. “They’ll move on to another story and stop hanging out here. I mean, they’ll still take pictures of you at official events, but you’ll get used to it.”

“I don’t want to ‘get used to it’!” Nina clawed angrily at her bedspread, her fists closing around the printed fabric. “I just want things to go back to normal!”

“
Normal
meaning a world where you’ve conveniently erased me from the story of your life?” Sam nodded toward the photos on the wall.

Nina had been curious how long it would take Sam to ask about those.

“It’s just—no one at school knows I’m friends with you. It seemed easier not to tell everyone. Less complicated,” Nina said quickly, wondering why she felt the need to explain herself to Sam, anyway.

The princess flinched at her words. “I didn’t realize I was a
complication.
”

“You know I didn’t mean it like that,” Nina insisted, though her gaze followed Sam’s toward the collage.

What if this
was
an accurate depiction of Nina’s life? What if her mom had never interviewed for the chamberlain job, if Nina and Sam had never become such good friends? How would Nina’s life be different—or, more importantly, how would
Nina
be different?

Even as a child, Nina had instinctively known that she had to give way to Sam. Not necessarily because she was royal, though that was certainly part of it. But Sam had enough personality for two people—which always made Nina feel like she needed to back down a bit, to compensate. Sam was unpredictable and irrepressible and laughing and mischievous. She had always been the one to set their plans, come up with their schemes. And she expected Nina to follow her lead without question.

Nina thought of all the times she had quietly done whatever Sam wanted, without even stopping to consider what
she
might want. When they went shopping for new backpacks in fifth grade, Sam had demanded the bright blue one, even though she knew blue was Nina’s favorite color. Last year when they got their tattoos together, Sam had chosen the design, and only then had asked Nina whether she liked it. She begged Nina to come to events where she wouldn’t know many people, then ditched her to make out with some new guy in a closet.

Come to think of it, Sam was an unreliable and thoughtless friend. Selfish, even.

“Sam,” she said quietly. “It hasn’t always been easy, being your best friend.”

“Why?” Sam demanded, instantly on the defensive.

“Because. A friendship is supposed to be equal, and absolutely nothing about our friendship has ever been equal.” Nina let out a breath. “I know you never consciously tried to make me feel inferior. But traveling on all these vacations that your family pays for, driving
your
car around the capital because my parents wouldn’t buy me one, going to galas in your cast-off dresses, where everyone just looks right through me like I’m not even there. The only thing worse than feeling invisible is feeling like your charity case.”

She met Sam’s gaze. “It’s easier with the friends I’ve made at college. We’re all taking the same classes and going to the same parties. We’re just … equals.”

Sam’s face was dazed, almost incredulous, but beneath it Nina saw an unmistakable hurt. “I didn’t realize,” she said, stating the obvious. “But, Nina, none of those things matter to me, not the money or the titles or the vacations.”

“They only ‘don’t matter’ to you because you
have
them,” Nina replied. It came out more snappish than she’d meant it to. But really. Nina was the furthest thing in the world from a social climber, yet even she couldn’t help being constantly aware of those things. Money, titles, and her lack thereof.

It was hard not to resent Sam a little bit, for being so blissfully unaware of the struggles everyone else faced.

“Well, forget what the world thinks,” Sam replied, striving for an upbeat tone.

“Forget what the world thinks?” Nina asked, incredulous. “How am I supposed to do that when millions of people are currently trash-talking me? They don’t think I’m good enough for your brother.”

“Of course you’re good enough!”

“Do you really think that?” Nina wasn’t sure what instinct was urging her onward. Maybe it just felt good, pushing back at Sam for once, instead of letting the princess’s desires steamroll over her own.

“I wouldn’t be your friend if I didn’t think so,” Sam replied.

That comment sent Nina over the edge. Because in typical Sam fashion, she hadn’t really answered the question—hadn’t told Nina that she was smart and classy, and to ignore the internet trolls. She had just delivered her own opinion as if it were fact, and let that rest her case.

“
Are
we friends?” Nina heard herself ask, her voice terrifyingly even. “Because the way I see it, you show up here when it’s convenient for
you
—barging into my dorm room, summoning me to some party or theater performance, always wanting to talk about you and
your
problems. I’m not at your beck and call, Samantha. I’m supposed to be your friend. Not an assistant, not a secretary, not someone you can take for granted. A
friend
!”

The words bubbled up out of her like acid, years of frustration and bottled-up insecurities finally boiling over. And for once, Nina felt powerless to hold it all back.

Sam flushed a bright red. “I always thought of you like a sister, Nina, but I guess I’ve been wrong the whole time, since apparently I’ve been hurting your feelings throughout our years of friendship.”

“Like a sister?” Nina repeated. “That doesn’t count for much, based on the way you treat your real sister.”

The moment the comment left her mouth, Nina regretted it—but the damage had been done.

Her words were followed by complete and total silence.

I’m sorry,
Nina wanted to say;
I didn’t mean it
—except that wasn’t entirely true. She
had
meant it, or at least some part of her had meant it.

Sam had pulled her lower lip into her teeth, the way she did when she was struggling not to cry. “I’ll get out of here. God forbid my presence ruins your perfect college life.”

“Sounds good to me.” Nina didn’t bother watching as Sam shut the door behind her.

She fell back onto her bed, pulling her hands up before her as she curled into the fetal position. The tattoo was mere inches from her face.