I shrug. “You never bloody know with Alice.”
I lead Libby out the doors and toward Powers Hall, the humanities building. It’s a three-story redbrick behemoth with white trim, white windows, and Greek Doric columns outside the entrance.
“Looks like you’re not going to meet Edward for a while,” I say.
“That’s okay. I’ll meet him soon.”
“You’ll love him, Libs, I promise.”
“Cool. Can’t wait.” She seems distracted. Her excitement from earlier in the day seems to be slipping away as reality sets in.
I lead Libby inside the doors, smiling and responding briefly to people who say hello. We climb the marble steps to the first floor, where I stop her outside the class. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m sure.”
“Do you want me to pick you up after class?”
She pauses. “I appreciate it, Charlotte, but you don’t have to worry about me so much. I’ll be okay. I promise.”
“Suit yourself. I’ll see you later this afternoon, okay? Text me when you’re ready and we’ll meet up. Sound good?”
She waves me off, and I walk upstairs one more floor to history class.
After class, Edward texts me to meet up outside Powers Hall. He engulfs me in a hug, his arms warm. “Sorry. I’ve had a hell of a day.” Around us, I see students shooting us curious glances. I’d be curious, too, if I saw Prince Edward hanging on some girl.
“Me, too,” I say, throwing my bag over my shoulder. “Let’s head into town—just hang on one sec so I can text my sister.” I pull out my phone and tell her to meet us by the front gates in five minutes.
We walk through campus, exiting the brass gates at the end of the sloping driveway.
“So she’s finally here? How’s she doing?”
“Good! A little overwhelmed, but she’ll manage.”
“It’s a lot, I’m sure—transferring into a new school your last year, leaving all your friends, having to adjust to a new place. She’s lucky to have you here.”
“Thanks. I just want her to fit in. We’re kind of different.”
“What do you mean?”
Libby’s fifty feet away, standing beyond the brass gates looking at us. She’s still wearing her uniform, but she’s thrown her favorite army jacket over it, slouching with her arms folded across her chest. Her hair is pulled back into a loose bun, a pen stabbed through the topknot to hold it in place.
“Is that her?” he asks.
“Yep.”
“I see what you mean. She seems quieter.”
“Yeah. She doesn’t let her hair down right away. But she’s hilarious once you get to know her, I promise.”
“Cool.”
“You two will love each other,” I say, raising my voice as I call out, “Hey, Libs! Hope you weren’t waiting too long.”
“It’s all good! I came here right after class.”
“How’d it go?”
“Not bad. Decent teachers, interesting class discussion, lots of student engagement—two thumbs up.” She looks back and forth between Edward and me. “Hi,” she says, smiling and sticking her hand out. “I’m Libby.”
He smiles at her, shaking it. “Hi back. I’m Edward.”
I have to restrain myself from saying, “Yeah, I think she knows who you are.”
“Well!” I clap my hands together. “Now that we’re all acquainted. Ice cream?”
We turn right and walk up the high street, passing boutiques, cafés, and restaurants while making our way toward the ice cream shop.
“How are you finding Sussex Park?” Edward asks her.
“Too soon to tell,” she says, “but so far, everybody seems nice.”
“Everybody?” I say. “Even Tarquin?”
Edward starts laughing. Libby smiles as she looks back and forth between the two of us. “Was that the guy with the floppy hair at lunch?”
“That’d be the one,” I confirm.
“Tarquin,” Edward says, shaking his head, more to himself than to us.
We walk into the ice cream shop and place our orders. There’s an awkward silence while we each collect our cones and then pay.
“That looks delicious,” Edward says, lamely attempting small talk while gesturing toward Libby’s cone.
“Would you like a bite?” she asks, offering it to him.
“More of a choc man myself.”
She gestures to the cone in his hand. The chocolate is beginning to run down the side of the cone. “I see.”
“But thank you so much.”
“Well, this conversation is riveting,” I joke. “Shall we go outside and debate the merits of sprinkles versus fudge?”
We exit the ice cream shop, walking to the end of the high street and sitting on the edge of a fountain. A few tourists notice Edward and begin gesturing excitedly.
“I think you’ve been spotted,” Libby says.
He reaches into his knapsack and pulls out a white baseball cap with a giant maroon D emblazoned across the front.
“That must be so weird,” she says. “Always being recognized.”
I look up at her in alarm. We’re not supposed to talk about the elephant in the room. Edward’s friends have an unspoken agreement that we pretend to ignore who he is. Libby’s just being her normal, straightforward self, but I’d assumed she would cool it with Edward.
He scratches his head before pulling on the cap. “Yeah. It is.” He pauses, adjusting the cap low so that his eyes are hidden. “I’m used to it by now.”
“That’s good,” she says.
“But it still sucks.”
“I’m sorry to hear it.” She takes another small bite of her ice cream. “But it’s the trade-off, I guess.”
“Trade-off?”
“Your bargain. You get more than others, so it’s only fair that you have to give something up in return, like your privacy. Don’t you think? And you can actually do something good and meaningful with your life—unlike most people. You’re lucky, but not for the reasons that everybody thinks. That’s all just shiny stuff. It doesn’t matter in the end, and you’re not really better than anybody else because of it.”
Crap. This is not how I wanted things to go down.
“I’m getting hot,” I say, pointing across the street. “Let’s go over there in the shade.” I stand up, dusting off my skirt. I look back and forth between the two of them in alarm, not sure how Edward will react to Libby’s bluntness. I’ve never heard anybody talk like that to him before. I wonder if he has, either.
He looks her full in the face. “I never said I was better than anybody else. And I certainly don’t think it.”
“Good,” she says, nodding emphatically. “Charlotte would never be with somebody arrogant. I knew there must be more to you than meets the eye.”
“One hopes,” he says, standing up. “I might still let you down. But I’ll do my best.” He chomps into the cone.
My eyebrows are practically at my hairline. I can’t believe Edward is taking this so good-naturedly.
We finish our ice cream and walk back to campus. Edward’s phone rings and he excuses himself, walking a few feet away to take the call. I hear him say, “Yes, Mum,” and realize he’s talking to Queen Madeline.
“Are you having a brain aneurysm?” I hiss.
“What?” she asks.
“Maybe you can wait a full hour after meeting him before going on the offensive with the insults.”