Who Made You a Princess? (18 page)

“What?” Mac sounded confused, but I got it right away.

“I wondered when that would come out into the open.”

“What do you mean?” Mac asked.

I opened my mouth, but Carly answered. “It’s us,” she said. “Haven’t you noticed the signs?”

“Uh, no.” Mac’s tone was flavored with lemon. “I’ve been preoccupied with staying sane.”

“You haven’t noticed people saying hi to you in the halls that never noticed you before?” Carly asked. “People asking you
what you’re doing on the weekend, and then showing up at the same stuff? Vanessa giving up her table?”

“I noticed
that
,” Mac said. “I also noticed she had it staked out the next couple of days with her minions, whom she then kicked out when
her tier-one people arrived.”

“Dani offered to lend me her iPod during free period so I could listen to the new Rihanna song,” Carly said. “And rumor has
it Emily and Vanessa are on the outs. Remember, the other day she tried to stay and sit with us? And Vanessa wouldn’t let
her?”

“Like we care,” I scoffed. “Those people aren’t friends. They’re mutual back-scratchers. You guys are real, and Rashid is
real. I have a feeling that us being friends with a prince is a big factor here.”

“Not us,” Mac said. “
You
. Who just happen to be friends with
us
. I’d love to know why he gave you that necklace. While we’re sharing, why don’t you share that?”

“Because he wanted to, I guess. He says it’s like a thank-you for being his friend.”

“That’s some thank-you. It has to mean something,” Carly said. “Is it like a really expen-sive promise ring?”

“
No
.” This was beginning to scare me. “I already told you. The guy gives people presents. I made sure there were no strings attached,
no promises,
nada
.”

“Hm.” Mac didn’t sound convinced. “Maybe not out loud. But there’s got to be something behind it. I think you should ask him.”

“I did ask him. Maybe he does want more, but I told him I couldn’t promise anything. Besides, I didn’t want him to think I
thought he had ulterior motives for giving me something,” I said to the ceiling. “It’d make us both look cheap.”

“Not for two mil,” Carly said to no one in particular.

“I’m not his keeper. The man can do whatever he wants. If he wants to make a pretty gesture and send our social status into
orbit while he does it, that’s fine with me.” I got the conversation back on track. “You have to admit, it’s interesting,
this whole A-lister thing.”

“Don’t be smug,” Mac said. “Even if it’s true, who knows how long it will last?”

“Or even if we want it to.” I shut off the lamp and snuggled under my duvet.

I might not be any kind of princess in the real world, necklace or no necklace. But it felt good to think I might be one in
the social world of Spencer Academy, even if it only lasted a week.

Truth? After four years of being the loner with no friends, it felt pretty good.

P
OP! POP-POP-POPPITY-POP
. A dozen flashbulbs went off in my face as I got out of the limo Manolos first, straightened, and took Rashid’s arm. Half
blinded, I put an arch in my spine and led with my hipbones as we walked the gauntlet of media and paparazzi toward the doors
of Due. The dark raspberry silk of my vintage Lanvin whipped around my ankles, and I could practically feel the diamonds lying
on my collarbones heating up with the intensity of the light.

“Whew!” Lissa said behind me. “This is good practice for the red carpet next month.” She shook her hair, caught up into her
mom’s Art Deco diamond clip, back over her shoulders.

“And the courthouse next week,” Carly added. “I counted three TV networks. It must be a slow night for news.”

“I don’t think it’s us.” Brett, who is half a foot taller than any of us girls, craned his neck over the crowd in the vestibule.
“Panic! At the Disco is playing, but I don’t think it’s them, either.” He looked again. “Oh. That explains it. My cousin is
friends with Scarlett Johansson’s agent. I just saw her duck into a private booth. She’s filming here, and the rags are probably
dogging her.”

Whoever Brett’s cousin had hired to plan the party for opening night, they were brilliant, as Mac would say. The place was
done up in burgundy velvet and steel, with hardwood floors and an elevated balcony with a Plexiglas dance floor, packed to
the edges with people and shimmering with lights. I might get away with dancing up there, with my long dress, but Lissa had
better not try it. She wore a pale pink petal-hem babydoll by Robin Brouillette, a San Francisco designer she’d just discovered
who was a friend of Tori Wu—and anyone sitting at the tables under the elevated floor would be able to see, well, anything
they wanted. The dance beats reverberated in my stomach, and I shrugged a little to the rhythm as Brett’s cousin—Chase, his
name was—materialized out of the crowd to show us to our booth.

“I’ve gotta see this.” Brett, Gillian, and Rashid hung over the flat screen, which showed all of the little avatars we’d made
this afternoon crowding into the booth. I’d made mine cute, a little brown anime figure with two ponytails and a two-piece
suit (very mini, of course), with sky-high heels. Rashid’s was tall and thin, with a poet shirt and a Heathcliff look. Funny
how we see our inner selves, huh? Lissa had made a fairy wearing a bikini, Mac’s was a glowery goth in a torn purple sundress,
Gillian had uploaded the character she draws in art class, and Carly was a Regency lady with huge eyes and a tiara.

Brett’s looked exactly like himself, which meant either he had no imagination or he was happy the way he was. I wasn’t going
to touch that one.

“Look, here’s how you order drinks and food.” Carly tapped a couple of icons on the screen. Ordering took a couple of seconds,
and ten minutes later a girl in a black mini, white dress shirt, and tights appeared with the tray.

Panic! was scheduled to play later—their instruments already stood under the balcony—but I wanted to dance now, and the DJ
was fine with me. I dragged Rashid out to a clear space under the hanging paintings and, okay, showed off a few of my moves.
But even if he talks like he’s fresh out of finishing school, he dances like he grew up around clubs. I tell you, we tore
up that floor.

I don’t even know when we got back to the table. It could have been hours or minutes, but whatever it was, our seats were
taken. I skidded to a halt on the polished floor, drag-ging Rashid to a stop, too, like a big old boat anchor. I couldn’t
seem to get enough air into my lungs.

Lissa sat next to Kaz, looking like someone had lit her up from inside, yakking away at him. And beside Kaz sat Danyel, gazing
at me over the rim of his tall glass of soda. Gazing through Rashid as if he wasn’t even there.

I dropped Rashid’s hand.

What were they doing here? Who had told them?

Danyel and Rashid couldn’t be in the same place together. What was I going to do?

I fingered my necklace, tugging it away from my skin.
Breathe.

Carly and Brett’s chairs were empty. No help there. Mac looked from me to Rashid to Danyel and raised her eyebrows. No help
there, either.

It was all on me.

“Surprise!” As I walked up to Danyel, he stood and hugged me. I detached Kaz from Lissa and hugged him, too. “How did you
find us?” I sounded so chirpy and happy, as if my moment of panic had never happened. Go, me.

Kaz tilted his head toward Gillian. “She swore me to secrecy so we could surprise Lissa. It was too good to resist.”

“Having fun?” Danyel smiled at me as if we were the only two people in the room.

“Yeah, this is great.” I glanced over my shoulder at Rashid and stepped to the side to include him in the circle while I ran
over what I remembered of the rules of intro-ductions to royalty. Rule number one: the guy with the crown comes first. “Rashid,
these are our friends from Santa Barbara, Danyel Johnstone and Kaz Griffin. They came to celebrate Lissa being a finalist
for the Hearst medal. Guys, this is Prince Rashid al Amir. He’s doing an exchange term at Spencer.”

“Prince?” Danyel blinked and pulled in his chin as if he didn’t believe me. “For real?”

“Yes, but please do not be uncomfortable.” Rashid shook his hand, even though technically Danyel should have bowed or something.
“We are all friends tonight.”

Danyel looked at me, still a bit taken aback, and then his gaze dropped to my throat.

Blink.

Double-take.

Blink again.

“Are
those
real?” he blurted.

Much as I was tempted to make a joke about cubic zirconias, I couldn’t very well do that with Rashid standing right there.
“Of course. Pretty, huh?”

Then, before I could drag Rashid away, he spoke. “They were supposed to be a gift, but I am told they are merely to be a loan.”
He smiled at me. “And I must do as I am told.”

“Wait. What? Whoa.” Danyel, waved a hand, as if he were blind and feeling his way. “You mean you gave that to Shani?”

“I tried very hard to do so,” Rashid said solemnly.

“Why?”

The very question the girls had asked me last night. But instead of answering, Rashid looked down his hawkish nose and straightened
to military posture. “I was not aware that it was any business of yours.” His tone would have chilled the drinks if they hadn’t
already been iced. Farrouk and Bashir, over in the shadows, straightened too. Farrouk slid one hand inside his jacket.

Great. All I had to do was introduce them, and already our fun night was teetering on the edge of ruin. “Come on, Rashid.”
I grabbed his hand. “Let’s dance.”

“We have just been dancing.”

“And I want to do some more. Come on.”

“No. Please sit down and tell me what right this person has to speak to you like that.”

I forgot myself and rolled my eyes. “He’s not a person, he’s my friend. We’re all friends here, like you said. Would you relax?”

Could this get any worse?

Yes, it could.

“You want to dance, Shani?” Danyel grabbed my hand and pulled me away from the group. “I’ll dance with you.”

Lord, help me now.

That wasn’t a prayer. Honest. Even I knew better than that. But I was doomed if I went, and doomed if I didn’t. At least this
way, I’d get a dance out of the deal.

We made our way to the center of the dance floor, but instead of the funk and soul I wanted, the DJ segued into a slow blues
number. I even recognized it. Stevie Ray Vaughan’s “Riviera Paradise.”

“So.” Danyel took my hand and slipped one arm around my waist. “You the prince’s girl now?”

I owed him an explanation. The time and the place stank, but hey, it had to be done. “I’m not anybody’s girl.”

“When a guy gives a girl this much bling, it usually means something, Shani.”

“Like he said, it’s just a loan. I’m giving it back to him tomorrow.”

“But he wanted it to be for good, right?”

I shrugged. “Maybe. But what he wanted and reality are two different things.”

“What I wanted and reality are, too, I guess.”

Urgh. Poetic types. They talk in riddles and expect you to understand because your souls are knit together. I needed plain
words. “What does that mean?”

“I thought we had something going.”

“Maybe we do.” I tried a smile, but he didn’t smile back. Stevie’s guitar wailed, content with the moonlight and the romance.
Lucky him.

“Does he think the same?”

“We’re just friends, Danyel. We’ve known each other since we were little kids.” I flashed on a memory of Rashid and a dark
room and how his kiss had made me feel—all hungry and shaky at the same time. Danyel and I hadn’t done more than hold hands.
What was my definition of
friends
? Was I so shallow that all I wanted was the kind with benefits?

“I thought you and I were friends. I thought we could be more than that.”

“We can.” I’d swear off the prince. Honest, I would. I had to sometime anyway, because by Christmas break, he’d have gone
back to where he’d come from. I didn’t want to be left with a bunch of busted possibilities where Danyel was concerned.

“How’m I going to believe that? You came to church with me last weekend, and this weekend you’re freakin’ it with him and
wearing his presents.”

His tone rubbed me the wrong way. “It’s not like you put a sign on me saying Mine. And until you do, I can have friends.”

“I can’t afford to put diamonds on it.”

Okay, a little jealousy was kind of sweet. But this sulky possessiveness when there was nothing but a “maybe” between us was
getting old.

I pulled away. What a waste of a great slow-dance tune.

But he hung onto my hand and reeled me back in. “I’m sorry. I need you to listen for just one second, Shani.”

“I’m listening.” Back in his arms, I held myself a little aloof. Just sending a message that I was there under protest, you
know?

“I want you to know I’m praying for you. Like, daily. Because you’re my friend. And you mean a lot to me.”

Now there was a contrast. One guy gave me diamonds. One guy prayed for me. Nine girls out of ten would have taken the first
guy, hands down. But was I one of those nine girls, or was I the tenth who saw past the glam to the glow?

“I—I’ve been praying, too.”

The corners of his mouth tilted up. “Yeah?”

“You and Lissa should engineer send and receive on your videos. Then you’d have heard me praying last Tuesday. First time.”

“And what did you pray about?”

“Oh, just a general yell for help. I don’t know if it worked or not, but it felt right.”

“If it did, then it was.” I snickered. “What?”

“When I saw you two facing off with each other a minute ago, I prayed. Sort of. But I’m sure the Big Guy had better things
to do, because you saw how
that
worked out.”

“I see that I’m the guy dancing with you. There’s an answer to a prayer for you.”

I had to laugh. “Okay for you. But here I am, stuck in the middle with not one, but two guys who’ve got a beef with me.”