Peyton Church is a city girl by anyone's standards. Born and raised in New York City, she grew up wanting for nothing. She attended the most prestigious preparatory schools, shopped on Fifth Avenue, dined with the rich and famous and was adored by...
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SUNDAY PASSES BY quickly, and before I know it, I'm walking through the front doors of the school with Jayden.
"Well, see you at home, train wreck," Jayden grins as he turns to make a break away.
A week after our arrival, and my own baby brother still refuses to be seen with me at school. The whole thing is backwards, if you ask me. I'm the prettier, older sister. I'm supposed to be embarrassed by his presence, not the other way around.
"You do realize everyone knows we're related, right?" I call after him, my hands planted on my hips.
Jayden simply ignores me, heading off to join his gaggle of awkward teenage boy friends. That's okay though, because he seems to forget that I know where he sleeps at night.
And I also know where Mom keeps her Nair cream.
With about ten minutes left before the warning bell rings, I make my way to my locker at the end of the hall. Waiting there for me, are two familiar blondes.
"So, what was it like? Socializing with vain and self-absorbed royalty of Rock Valley?" Eliza asks, leaning against the locker beside mine.
"Good morning to you too, Eliza," I chuckle, spinning my combination into my locker.
Addison, who's standing behind me, sighs. "Ignore her. She's always bitter in the morning."
"Am not," Eliza argues, sticking out her pierced tongue in Addison's direction. "I just want to hear about how horrible it was."
"Well, Liza, I hate to break it to you, but it was actually kinda fun," I say, shrugging my shoulders as I pull my books free of my school bag.
"You're kidding me," she deadpans, her jaw popping open in disbelief before she turns on Addison. "But you hated it right? It was, like, a form of medieval torture?"
Addison purses her lips, rather than answer her friend's question. She even averts her eyes, her attention suddenly falling on nothing in particular down the hallway.
"Oh, come on, guys," Eliza groans. "You two are killing me. You were supposed to go, hate it, and then we would all bond over how much we hate those cookie cutter, higher-than-thou princesses and their evil boy toys."
Closing my locker door and turning to lean against it, I hold up my hand. "Um, I used to be one of those princesses?"
Eliza brushes me off with a flick of her wrist. "Yeah, but you've essentially been kicked off of your pedestal and stepped on by a bunch of people in pointy heels. Nobody likes you, therefore I like you."
