Six: Prince Cadoc
1969 Words
Chapter Six
Prince Cadoc
The first week of classes was a transition. For the first time in the schools history, there were girls walking around the campus of Hollow Hills. Girls that looked at me like I was a piece of meat. I could feel their eyes on me everywhere I went. The transition was part of the reason I lived off campus. If I had stayed in my dorm, I would have had to deal with girls doing all sorts of crazy things.
Even with our old sister school across the way, my first year living there I’d had girls hide in my closets. Stalkers send letters. I was followed by three different girls. My security now had a list of who not to let near me.
While I was happy for the progress the school was making, it was like living in a fishbowl. The only girls that didn’t seem obsessed with me were Gwyneth. Audrey. My cousin Winnifred. And Penelope, the one girl I wanted to obsess over me.
Winnifred was the same age as me and had been at the old sister school before they’d made the school become coed. She was skinny, with red hair, but had been the product of a scandal my Uncle had had at nineteen. She was a bastard and couldn’t inherit the throne. But I still saw her as my cousin.
On Thursday, the day before Penelope was supposed to go on her date with Jasper, it got bad. I was given at least six love notes, and five random presents. Winnifred was standing in the hall, talking to Gwyneth.
I slid up beside the two of them, the blue jacket I wore as part of my uniform over my head. “I need a f*****g invisibility cloak.”
Gwyneth chuckled. “You know, half of the boys let out a cheer when they heard the school was going coed. You look like you’re in hell, my darling Cadoc.”
“That’s because to these women, I’m Anne Boleyn.”
“You have no head?” Winnie asked.
I laughed. “No. No. Think the Thomas Wyatt poem.”
“I’m so lost,” said Winnie.
“Whoso list to hunt, I know where is an hind,” Gwyneth quoted the old Wyatt poem.
I couldn’t help but smile, impressed. Of course, Gwyneth knew the line. Gwyneth knew everything. It was why she would make a good Prime Minster, if I couldn’t convince her to marry me first. “You know, you should be jealous of all this. You are my girlfriend.”
“Casually,” she replied, “might I remind you, there’s still the matter of Pen.”
“Pen?” Winnifred raised an eyebrow. “You surely don’t mean Jasper’s Pen, the girl he’s been blabbing on about all week?”
I coughed. “She’s delusional and doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”
“Spoken like a man trying to deny the truth spoken by a woman,” Gwyneth said, “I’m not stupid, you know. Neither’s Jasper. It’s sad really. A bit like watching The Vampire Diaries. Knowing that all the hair gel in the world isn’t going to save Stefan and Elena.”
“I don’t know what that means,” I said.
“It works in your favor,” said Winnifred with a smile, “and he does give off Damon vibes a bit.”
“Arrogant control freak?” Gwyneth said.
“Of course,” Winnifred smirked.
“I hate the both of you,” I replied.
Winnifred raised an eyebrow. “I thought you didn’t know what we were talking about.” “Context,” I answered.
“Ah.” Gwyneth smiled. “Ah look, there’s Elena Gilbert herself.”
She pointed over down the hallway, to the small, brunette girl who was walking around with a map of the school. Confused. Sighing, I ran a hand through my hair and walked over to her.
“Lost?”
Her cheeks turned crimson. And my heart leapt in my chest. The spark that I had imagined between us was there. Tiny, flickering, barely giving off any light. But the moments that I had thought that we had had were not imagined.
There was interest.
Interest that I couldn’t do anything about, because she was going to go out with Jasper. My best friend.
“I am not lost,” she said, “I am merely out of place.”
“That’s another phrase for lost,” I told her, “where are you supposed to be?”
“I’m supposed to be in advanced placement literature,” she answered.
“Good. Then I can take you there.”
Her eyes widened, and she looks so upset by the idea, I hate it. I’m not used to girls acting this way with me. I’m used to snapping my fingers and having them coming whenever I ask them. But, because of some societal nicety, I’ve got to downplay my every instinct.
Jaspers one of my best friends.
From the time we were young, his entire life has been about protecting me. It will be that way, even when he dies. The least I can do is let him have a shot with this girl, right?
Right. I can be a gentleman. It’s in my blood. It is no f*****g problem to walk away from this girl.
“I don’t know that this is a good idea.” She was biting down on her lip. I wanted to tell her to stop, that I was the only one allowed to do that. I restrained myself, clenching and unclenching my fists.
I didn’t want to take her to class. I wanted to shove her up against the wall and kiss her senseless. I didn’t do that either. I deserved a damn award.
I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “Look, if you’re going to be Jaspers girl, you’re going to have to hang out with me sometimes. It won’t look good if we hate each other. So…. how about this…. we’re cousins. You know, like Anne of Cleeves and King Henry.”
“King Henry referred to Anne of Cleeves as his sister,” she reminded me, and I was mildly impressed that she knew that. “You want me to be your sister?”
I couldn’t tell if she was screwing with me or not.
“Besides,” she tilted her head, “just because I’m going on a date with Jasper, doesn’t mean anything. It’s one date. We might decide that we’re completely wrong for each other. I might date someone else. I might not date anyone. You have absolutely no idea.”
“See, that’s where you’re wrong,” I said.
“How do you know?”
“Jasper hasn’t picked up a guitar in about five years. Not since his Mum died. He picked it up for you though, just to ask you out. Whatever this is, it’s not passing. You two are eternal.”
She blushed. “I wished people would stop talking about my love life as if that’s the only fascinating thing about me.”
“Look, it’s all fodder for the novel, right?” I smirked. “Come on. Let me walk you to class. I’ll be a better guide than that map. That map was made by our former class president, who was a complete stoner.”
“Ah, good to know.”
“I have no nefarious intentions towards you, Pen. If you want to be friends, great. If you want to be classmates, great. I don’t care. But you are part of this new scholarship program, this new co-ed era and I just really, really can’t have you hate me. You get that, don’t you?”
She sighed, running a hand through her brown hair. “Yeah. I get that. But just to be clear…I’m not here for a crown, or to husband hunt, I am here for an education. That’s it. You might have a crown, but I’ve got a dream, and I’m not going to let anyone interfere with that. Including Prince Charming.”
I laughed. “Good thing I’m not Charming. C’mon, Shakespeare. Let’s go to class.”
Before she could protest, I slung my arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. She smelled like hope, and something by Lancome. I wanted to breathe that smell in forever.
When we entered English class, I could feel all eyes on us. I was used to this. It was my life. But for Penelope, this was something she had never experienced before. I watched her carefully, waiting for her to recoil.
At the head of our class was our teacher, Mr. Marlowe, who was already well into a lecture. He turned around, saw me, and rolled his eyes. “Your highness. Late as ever. Flirting again, I see?”
Penelope coughed, shrugging away from me. “We’re not…I mean…. I’m a writer.”
I snickered. “That was the most pathetic excuse I have ever seen from anyone, ever. What she means is, dear Pen is Anne of Cleeves. Don’t get any idea funny ideas about us. She’s Jaspers girl.”
She glared at me. “I don’t care if you are the future of our nation, I will murder you, painful, and slow.”
“I like a girl who threatens treason. It’s cute.”
Mr. Marlowe stood up at the front of the class, a s**t eating smirk on his face. After years of taking his classes, I knew that look. It was the one that said that he had gotten one up on me. “I don’t give a s**t about your relationship status. I do, however, give a s**t about Chaucer, which is where we’re starting this semester. So, either sit or don’t sit but don’t keep on stalling my class.”
We sat, and I found myself disappointed as Pen made a beeline for Audrey who was also in that class. I frowned, and took a seat next to Eddie Spencer, who had been my best friend since I was five.
Edward, or Eddie as he liked to be called, had red hair, freckles, and looked a bit like a young Vincent Van Gogh. He sat next to me, tapping his pencil on his desk. “Is that the one that’s got our mate up in arms?”
I nodded. “That’s the one. Penelope Peters.”
He smirked. “You’re going to shag her.”
I frowned. “Why the hell would you say something like that?”
“Because, you keep on looking at her like she’s Helen, and the rest of the world is Troy.”
“She’s Jaspers girl.”
“Not for long,” he whispered, “not for long.”
- Writer
