The Duchess: High School Secret Society (Dynasty Book 1) Read online

  I head towards the next class and of course, I get lost. Golden Bay Academy is huge and doesn’t look like a school. It’s more like those medieval castles where every corner has secret passages.

  Not knowing where I am, I decide to go to the left, following the numbering on the doors. This side of the school is awfully quiet and there is no one in the hall, but then footsteps echo from behind me.

  “Are you lost?” A familiar voice wins my attention.

  Spinning on my heels, I lift my face from the school map I’m holding. “Completely,” I confess and Julian laughs.

  “You’ll get used to it,” he repeats what he said to me before.

  “Everyone keeps telling me that.”

  “Because it’s true. What class are you looking for?”

  “General history. Room 458.”

  “Same as me.” Julian smiles. “I’ll walk with you.”

  I wait for him to reach where I am before we start walking side by side. “This school is like a maze,” I say. “I’ll probably need to use GPS in here.”

  “If you want, I can give you a tour,” he offers and my steps falter to a halt.

  I’ve already had the tour last week when I came for registration so I doubt a second one will help. With time I’ll figure my way around, but his offer piques my curiosity.

  “Why?”

  Julian raises his eyebrows as if he doesn’t understand my question. “Why wouldn’t I?”

  Nobody does things just for doing them. There is always a catch.

  “From the way everyone here looks at me, you probably know who I am. Or at least your friends must’ve told you about me.”

  Julian doesn’t answer immediately. He observes me and I start to feel uncomfortable, mainly because he is ... I don’t know. Gorgeous is a mediocre adjective to describe him. He seems too perfect for a teenager.

  I have met many boys. Beautiful, charming, athletic, nerdy. Only Julian is nothing like them.

  To start, he is much taller than the average. He must be over six feet. He also fills the uniform too well even though he doesn’t appear to be muscular, and his golden tie is a little crooked which gives him an extra charm. Straight, blond hair falls over his forehead with eyes so blue and sculptured rosy lips. An affront to any teenage girl. It’s impossible to look at him and not be hypnotized. And to make matters worse, the bastard is nice. But he also has danger inscribed on his forehead.

  And danger is my weakness.

  “Nayah?” Julian calls.

  I have to control the heat surfacing from my neck. I don’t want him to think I’m blushing because of him. I’m not. Okay, maybe a little.

  “Don’t worry about me. I’ll figure it out.” I start walking again when his hand grabs my wrist.

  “Nayah, stop. I don’t know you or anything about you. Minus the obvious fact that you’re new here,” he says, staring at me. “None of my friends told me anything about you because I haven’t had a chance to talk to them. But if you want to tell me who you are, please go ahead.”

  There is a hint of challenge in his words, and I gaze at the hand that holds me captive. “We’d better get to class. I think I’m already late and from what I’ve noticed, tardiness is frowned upon here.”

  Releasing me, Julian raises his hands in surrender and then shows me the way. We sauntered to the end of the hallway in silence, then go up a flight of stairs and turned right. The History classroom is the first. He opens the door for me to enter, interrupting the teacher. Julian offers his apologies for being late while I remain silent and head straight for an empty chair, making sure the seat next to me is occupied.

  If Julian doesn’t know who I am, he’ll know soon. To these people, I’m the lunch lady’s daughter. Period. The murmuring can’t be more than that because they have no way of knowing anything else. Nobody here knows what I did, nor can they know. Besides, I doubt that the elite of GBA worries about what happens in public schools.

  “Nayah?” Claudia, the teacher calls. “Any thoughts?”

  I groan. It’s like these teachers were all instructed to ask me things I know nothing about. “Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.” My sincerity makes several giggles sound across the room, and I roll my eyes.

  “Please focus and since you’re new, I’ll give you a pass,” she says as if doing me a favor. “There won’t be another.”

  “Thank you,” I mumble.

  The teacher resumes the lesson, expecting me to participate. I look around and notice that quite a few eyes are on me. Two girls—one blonde with a face full of makeup and the other with perfectly wavy dark hair—whisper to each other without taking their eyes off me. The simple act irritates me, but I decide not to play into their game.

  I ignore them and focus on the teacher and thankfully the topic isn’t that unfamiliar. Since she wants my participation I raise my hand, cutting her mid-sentence. She nods, allowing me to speak.

  “I don’t know if I can agree with the term Christian expansion. I prefer to use appropriation of local cultures.”

  More laughter which I discount, keeping my gaze fixed on the woman ahead.

  “Please continue,” Claudia says, reclining against the whiteboard.

  “What we see today as Christianity or Catholicism, started when Roman bishops decided it was time to expand their political power. They made use of what was common for local populations to create a bond with them. Christmas is an excellent example. It was a common, ancient celebration, in honor of a Persian god. The Winter Solstice if I’m not mistaken. They took what didn’t belong to them to manipulate and extort the people.”

  I had memorized that speech to annoy a neighbor who always tried to drag me to church, claiming I’m possessed by the devil and need exorcism.

  A small smile creeps on the teacher’s face. “Very well, Nayah. There are some things in your speech that can be adjusted, but there’s logic in it.” She seems impressed before turning to write something on the board.

  With the teacher facing away from me, I turn and look at the two girls who were murmuring a while ago and gloat. They keep looking at me, but this time they seem to be annoyed.

  Point to me.

  I cross my leg and turn my attention to the front of the room, attempting to remain indifferent to what the other students think about me. I hate it when someone feels superior to others because of their religious beliefs, money, or skin color. I always made a point to stand up against those types of bias misconceptions which resulted in several fights, some suspensions, and a few unpleasant nicknames.

  However within a school that checks all the boxes I detest, I may need to control myself a little more. It’s difficult, but I said I would try.

  When the bell rings, announcing the end of the period, I let out a sigh of relief.

  “Nayah, can I talk to you?” the teacher asks when I’m almost at the door.

  “Hmm…” I hesitate but then approach her desk. “Sure.”

  “All the teachers have been alerted about your history, but I believe in second chances.”

  Not that shit again.

  The words second chances seem to be shadowing me. All this benevolence is beginning to irk me. For once in my life, I want to suffer the consequences of my actions without having a charitable soul striving to show me the path of light.

  “Thank you,” I say without any truth to my words.

  The teacher interlaces her fingers as if preparing to pray. “Each student can be instructed by a teacher this week, and I’d like to help you.”

  I want to tell her that this is a mistake. That she should give up this act of charity, but I remain silent.

  Among all the teachers I have seen so far, Claudia seems to be the youngest. If I had to guess her age, I’d say she’s no more than twenty-seven. She is cute too with a round face and brown eyes which go well with her short, chocolate-colored hair. I don’t know if, like me, she is new to the school and is trying to score points with the board or if she genuinely likes her profession.

  “Thank you,” I repeat.

  “No need to thank me.” She shakes her head. “Sit for a minute and let’s talk.” We go to the first row, she sits in a chair, and I position myself next to her. “I’ll take a guess and say that you like history?”

  I shrug. I don’t know if I can trust all this kindness the teacher shows, but it won’t hurt to indulge and see how far we are going with this.

  “I don’t know. I was never good at school.” Nor dedicated.

  “That doesn’t mean you’re not smart. You just haven’t figured out how to use your potential.”

  I silence a strong urge to laugh. Seriously? She heard me speak for less than a minute and already thinks I have potential? This is ridiculous.

  “So… will you think about history?” she asks again.

  “Yeah, sure.”

  “The Art and Literature program is excellent. Students are pushed to think and challenge everything they’ve heard and learned. Arts and literature don’t necessarily mean you’ll sculpt a David or write a Romeo and Juliet. When you do Arts, the focus is to pursue careers such as Design, Architecture, Communication, Library Science... Literature can take you to History.”

  “I still don’t know what I’m going to do with my life or if I’ll go to college, but I think our conversation brought me a little insight,” I lie, wanting to get out of there.

  “I’m glad to hear.”

  I nod and adjust my backpack on my shoulder. I say goodbye to her and leave the class, starving and craving fresh air and freedom.

  Chapter 2

  “How was the first day of school?” Mom inquires as soon as I close the front door.

  “It was fine,” I drone, striding into the house and dropping my bag on the couch.

&
nbsp; “I thought you’d be hungry, so I made you a sandwich before dinner.”

  I take the plate from her hand and bite into the chicken sandwich. She chuckles when I hum and take another big bite without having finished swallowing the first. When I finish the sandwich, I down it with a glass of water.

  “Thanks, Mom. I’m going to take a shower.” I try to leave the kitchen, but she blocks my path.

  “Where do you think you’re going?”

  I frown. “Shower...”

  “Without telling me about your day. First day.”

  “I told you. It was fine.”

  Rounding her eyes, she expels a breath. “I want details. Was it fun? Did you make any friends?”

  “Mom…” I shift on my weight. “There’s nothing to tell.”

  “C’mon, Nayah. There’s gotta be something.”

  “I’ll tell you later, I’m really tired right now. I need a shower and to rest.” As if my words aren’t enough, a yawn escapes my mouth.

  My mother agrees and promises that we’ll have pizza for dinner. Pizza doesn’t happen often because Mom cooks every day. She loves to do it and claims that takeout is poisonous.

  As soon as I get to my room, I kick my shoes off toward the corner of the wardrobe and hang my tie on the knob. Then I take off my uniform and head to the bathroom for a quick, hot shower. Once done, I return to my room and sprawl on the bed which is attached to the wall under the window. I love it because I can pull the strings of the blinds without having to get up to stare out at the stars.

  As the room grows dark, I let out another yawn. Today was, to say the least, exhausting. I don’t think I’ve ever studied so much in my life. As much as I promised my mother that I would change, that I would behave, just thinking about the work I have to put in is discouraging.

  Everything would be so much better if I was back in Los Angeles, at my old school with my friends. We would probably be on the beach now. Instead I’m at home, dead from fatigue, and trying to shut my brain off from everything that happened earlier.

  My eyes start to get heavier, and the last thing I remember before falling asleep is having lunch alone at a table in the corner, wishing I was anywhere other than Golden Bay Academy.

  ∞∞∞

  The heat is abundant and I’m sweaty, but the smile doesn’t leave my face. My friends laugh as we wander past the entrance of the school, making fun of the kids going to class.

  It’s good to be with them again, especially with Theo. His hand is clasped with mine, showing me that everything is going to be all right. He smiles at Brad as they goof around, drawing the attention of everyone who passes by us.

  I don’t know what day of the week it is or what class we’re skipping this time. None of that is relevant. When we are together, the rest of the world is unimportant.

  ∞∞∞

  “Nayah, wake up. It is almost eight.”

  I mumble something intelligible when my mom shakes me hard, her tone is high and authoritative.

  “I swear I’ll throw a bucket of cold water on your face if you don’t wake up.”

  The threat snaps me to reality. “I’m awake,” I say with half-closed eyes, trying hard to keep them open.

  “Pizza is here, and you need to do your homework. Then you can go back to sleep, honey. But now, get off that bed.”

  I rub my eyes. “I’ll meet you in a minute. I need to go to the bathroom first.”

  Mom nods then leaves. My trip to the bathroom is short and I wash my face to fully wake me up then rush to the sitting room.

  As soon as I sit next to Mom on the couch, she fires the thousands of questions that should have been hammering in her head the whole day.

  “How were the classes, Nayah?”

  “Difficult.”

  “And the other students?”

  “Unbearable.”

  “How are the teachers?”

  “Tolerable.”

  “Did you make any friends?”

  “No.”

  Noticing that her questions are not producing the effect she expects, Mom changes her directive to something she knows will get a longer response from me. “How was the food?”

  I offer the best smile I can. “Delicious, Mom. You’ve outdone yourself like always.”

  “It’s not difficult to plan good menus when the budget allows.”

  I didn’t know how to answer that so I eat the pizza while Mom continues sharing her experiences on preparing meals at GBA. I listen more than I speak because my first day at school was nothing special. What did she expect? That I was going to fit in with that bunch of wealthy snobs?

  It took me a while to make the friendships I had, and honestly, I doubt that I can make a friend at GBA.

  When I’m done with half the box, I return to my room to do my homework. The last thing I want is to read entire chapters on Romanticism. Still, I take a deep breath and go to my bag to take out the book, remembering that I also had physics and math homework.

  I pick up the Literature book and notice something nudged between the pages. I flip it open and a black envelope stands out among the pale pages.

  Curious, I sit on the bed and analyze it. The paper is heavy, nothing you buy at a corner store and if that isn’t enough, it’s sealed with wax. The seal is golden and there is a symbol engraved right in the middle. A crown.

  Without thinking twice, and praying that it’s not anthrax, I break the seal. One thick, black card paper is inside. The contrast of black with silver letters is striking.

  Arabesques on the sides of the page make its elegance vibrant, yet it’s not the drawings that stand out, but a grand crown centered at the top. Below it, are the words: The Duchess. The letters are drawn as if they were made by hand and ink.

  Not understanding what the hell this is, I continue reading.

  Since ancient times the tradition applies. We bow to all the royals,

  to which we are loyal.

  The call is here. The time is now. To crown the new queen of deception.

  She is bright. She is fire.

  She is silent. She is lethal.

  She is beauty. She is power.

  She is The Duchess.

  “What the…?” I hiss as I finish reading. “Who put this inside my book? Why did they and who the hell is this duchess?”

  At the bottom of the page there is one more piece of information. September 20, at 11 pm. Golden Bay Academy’s Noble Hall.

  From there, I can’t concentrate on anything anymore. I spend the rest of the night intrigued by what appears to be a very strange invitation. It’s dated two weeks from now and what makes me pinch my eyebrows is the time. Eleven pm. Is it like a party or something?

  I conclude that some spoiled girl must be celebrating her birthday and decided to invite the whole school to make herself seem more popular than she is.

  Why didn’t she personally hand out the invitation?

  And why does she call herself the duchess?

  Chapter 3

  Déjà-vu.

  It seems that I’m reliving yesterday’s events when I cross the walls of GBA, finding myself the target of glares. Do these people have nothing else to do? I’m not that interesting. Why do they keep watching me?

  Yesterday I was humiliated in Physics, I gave a little show in History, I was speechless in Literature, and I almost fainted when I saw the dead frog on my desk in Biology. I had given them more than enough entertainment. Everyone should have realized by now that I’m nothing special. I find it sad that I’m still the center of attention. It must be awful to have nothing to do except gossip about the new girl.

  As I did yesterday, I disregard everyone.

  According to my schedule today’s first period is Mathematics, and as much as I want to go straight to the infirmary, claiming to be sick, I decide to face the problem.

  The class is on the second floor and I manage to get to it on time. I barely lay my books on the desk when I sense someone standing beside me. When I turn to see who it is, I’m taken captive by intense blue eyes. Those eyes are hard to forget.