three.

Cora

Those academy gates I’ve been looking forward to meeting smile at me from a distance, the words “Royal Elite Academy” glimmering in golden letters. Mr. Beckham sent a limo to fetch me, and even after riding in it for over two hours, I still can’t get over it. We passed through some of the richest towns in Georgia, and as we draw closer to the building, I notice a massive forest behind it. It makes the school look even more beautiful. I’m practically bouncing in my seat as the driver pulls up to the gate and stops before the security booth.

The driver rolls down the windows. “Miss Cora Williams.” He gestures to me.

The guard walks around to the back of the limo and peeks at me. He stretches his hand. “Your identification card, miss?”

Identification card? Oh, right. I rummage in my jacket pocket and retrieve the school ID that arrived via mail several days ago. I hand it to the guy, who scans it, then me, and the card again. After giving me a slight nod, he passes it to me. “You may enter,” he tells the driver.

The large golden gates part, allowing the limo entrance into the school courtyard. My head spins as I take it all in. From the large water fountain in front of the massive school building, to the trees and grass surrounding the area, to the many students dressed in blue uniforms prancing about.

“Wow,” I mutter under my breath. “I’m actually here.”

The driver stops the limo and climbs out. He makes his way to the back and opens the door, holding out a hand to me. “Royal Elite Academy, miss.”

I accept his hand, letting him help me out of the limo. My jaw practically drops to the ground as I get a better look at the building. The place is a mansion, Victorian style even though it doesn’t look very old. Just by looking at it, you can tell only the exclusive of the exclusive attend.

The driver gathers my bags from the trunk and helps me carry them to the building. I catch sight of the many guys and girls milling about, some laughing, many chatting, most definitely about their summer vacation.

As I pass a group of blonde-haired girls, their plaid blue uniform skirts rolled just a bit too high, they stop talking and pin their gazes on me. The girl in the center’s hazel eyes scan me from top to bottom and her lips curl into a snarl. I follow her gaze, but I don’t understand how her uniform is different from mine, aside from the fact that mine reaches just above my knees while hers barely covers the tops of her thighs.

“Hi,” she says, loud enough to hear her on Mars. “I’m Heather McLauren. You must be the peasant.”

“The peasant?”

Her friends burst into giggles. She turns up her nose like she smells something foul. “What else do you call a poor girl attending on scholarship?”

What in the world?

“Excuse me, miss,” the driver says. For a second, I forgot he’s still here. “May I escort you inside?”

The girls continue to snicker and giggle as I follow the man into the school building. He lays all my bags on the floor before the front desk, wishes me a good day with a tip of his cap, and walks out of the building. I nearly gasp in wonder as my head once again spins around in all different directions. This room is huge. Many different portraits adorn the walls, the floor is polished so hard it sparkles. Two sets of wooden spiral staircases lead to the upper floors, and there’s a lounge area with a beautiful fireplace.

“Hi,” a voice says from behind me. “You must be Cora.”

Spinning around, I spot a girl with brown hair and glasses standing before me. Her skirt isn’t lifted like the other girls I encountered. She holds out her hand. “I’m Samantha—Sam—your student guide.”

I blink at her. “Student guide?”

“All new students receive a guide. Follow me and I’ll give you the grand tour.”

I reach for my bags, but she waves her hand. “Oh, don’t worry about them. The staff will bring them to your room.”

“Staff? My room? As in, I get my own room?”

She chuckles. “Well, yeah. You don’t expect to share a room, do you?”

Uh, I heard that’s pretty standard for most schools. Sam gives me a bright smile before starting the tour.

She begins talking about the history of the school. “In the early 1900s, three men had a dream to start a boarding school for boys. Their names were Albert Aldridge, Francis Montgomery, and Asher Beckham.” She beams at me. “Yep, you guessed it. The founders of the school are none other than the great grandfathers of the Royal Elite Princes.”

I gape at her. “The what?”

Her brown eyes widen. “You’ve never heard of the Royal Elite Princes?”

“Should I?”

She stares at me like I’ve lost my mind. “Have you been living under a rock?” Then her gaze sweeps over me, taking me in from top to bottom. “Oh yeah, I guess you have.”

What the heck does she and the other girls see that I don’t? Our uniforms are identical.

She motions for me to follow her as we continue on with the tour. “If you’re planning to spend the next three years here, you should learn how things run. The Princes own Royal Elite, literally and figuratively, though the school is mostly funded by the Beckham family. The guys are the princes, but really, Alessandro is the king.”

“So who are the other princes?” I ask.

“Ethan Aldridge and Colt Montgomery.” She sighs wistfully. I get the impression that these Princes are the most popular guys at school, worshiped by all, and that half the girls at school are madly in love with them.

Sam continues with the tour, and my mind is boggled. There are so many rooms here, and that doesn’t even include the classrooms. I mean, they have a bowling alley in the recreation building. Building, not room. They have a whole building just for down time. Every bone in my body is already itching to tackle the arcade games and virtual reality. But I doubt I’ll have time to indulge—I’ll most likely be holed up in my room trying to catch up with schoolwork. I’m not the best student and this curriculum is tough.

The tour ends with Sam dropping me off at the girls’ dorm. I’m on the top floor, in a room all the way in the back that’s a little isolated from the rest of the rooms. Almost like it’s hardly ever used, and it doesn’t take long for me to understand why. It’s much smaller than the others, and I know this because I passed by a few rooms with open doors. But I’m not complaining. The fact that I’m able to attend this school with free room and board means the world to me.

“Thanks for the tour,” I tell Sam. “It’ll take forever until I know the place by heart. I’ll probably get lost a lot.”

“No prob. Don’t forget, orientation starts in an hour.”

My bags have already been brought up, stacked neatly near my bed. I start unpacking and by the time I’m done, I hear the corridor echoing with voices. Girls probably headed to orientation. Considering I have no idea where the auditorium is, I hurry out of my room and follow closely behind.