“Good afternoon to you, too, CJ.”
CJ, the name I gave my car, stood for Cherri Jr. It was the only rich person’s luxury I’d struggle to give up if I had to. I loved my car, and as a poor kid coming up, my own car was something I didn’t think I’d have until well into my adult years. Thanks to my dad’s promotion, I was given the car for my sixteenth birthday. It was my favorite and most expensive thing that I owned. The steering wheel had a jewel-encrusted crown in the center. The crown was a gift from Nathan, given to me because, as he said, I was his queen, but other people said it was because he wanted to brand me.
Postings was a beautiful city tucked away in the mountains of Maine about two hours north of Portland. The city was almost a perfect square and was divided into thirds. North Postings was where I was born—the slums, filled with run-down homes, low-funded schools, and tons of crime. The neighborhood I lived in wasn’t as bad as some of them, but trouble was always just around the corner. People didn’t often escape North Postings. It was a trap. It was difficult to thrive, so it was difficult to get out.
Postings Proper was the center third and was where the thin middle-class population lived. It was also where most of the major malls, schools, and entertainment was located. There was a Postings Proper shopping district where my friends and I often spent our time, and our high school, Postings Proper High, was right in the middle of it.
South Postings was where I lived currently. It was the ritzy district, where only the wealthiest lived. The entire area was overseen—not on paper, but in some unspoken code—by Nathan’s dad, Connor. He was the wealthiest, most powerful man in Postings, close to the top in all of Maine. There weren’t many places in the entire state where people didn’t know him by name, and there were none in the city. That was probably why no one seemed to mind that the Loche Estate sat directly on top of the highest hill of the city, looking down over it like some gilded castle.
Gold-plated gates wrapped around the entire property, and the big, white-tipped roof and marble pillars constituted the welcoming facade of the main house, not to be outdone by the smaller versions of the house to the east and west.
As I approached, I could see that the manicured lawn to the left side of the estate had been paved over and turned into a parking lot, exactly like former years. Eight of the spots were a regal blue, with minimalist symbols on each to designate where the members of The Royal Court could park. I drove up to the manned security station, and Reynoldo, the security guard, quickly recognized my car and waved to me with a smile. The gates roared and parted to allow me through.
I pulled my car into the parking lot and over to the blue spot with a crown matching the one on my steering wheel. I parked my car, seeing that all seven of the remaining spots were already taken, and the ninth member of The Royal Court, Nathan, was parked in the family driveway, away from the rabble. I climbed out, grabbing my bag as I went, pressed the button on the outside of my door handle to lock it, and then started off down the temporary white brick path that led around the main house and toward the expansive yard behind it where the party was held.
Music met me first, followed quickly by the sounds of hundreds of voices. Splashes indicated that people were already enjoying the pool. At the end of the path was an archway laced with white calla lilies. It was an odd aesthetic for Nathan, but I didn’t question it. I never wasted my time trying to figure out what was going on in his mind. I started ruffling around in my bag as I passed through, looking for my phone so that I could locate Avery, but when I passed under the arch, the music stopped immediately, and the entire party started to applaud.
I looked up, shocked, and I could already feel my face warming with embarrassment. I was the Queen of The Royal Court, but I’d never received this kind of reception at the summer party before.
The condensed crowd of people in the huge, Olympic-sized pool parted, and a whizzing sound cracked through the air. I glanced around for anyone I knew that could help explain what was going on, but after a few seconds, I needed to wonder no longer. Where the pool’s inhabitants had parted, a clear platform started to crawl up from under the pool. When the platform reached the height of the water, it stopped with a defending click, and then none other than Nathan Loche came sauntering out onto the platform from the other side of the pool.
As angry at him as I was, I had to admit he looked good. He wore white slip-on Vans, pale blue boat shorts, and a white tank top. His brown hair had been cut since the last time I saw it, and he now had shaved sides and a faux-hawk, which he’d brushed forward so that the front curled up at his forehead. He was known for his thick, full lips and rugged five o’clock shadow, and when his green eyes landed on me, they shined in the sun.
He flung a hand out toward me and used the other to set a microphone to his lips. “Here she is, everyone! The woman of the hour, my queen, Cherri!”
The crowd started to cheer, and it was only at that time that I noticed the motif of the party. The lawn had little white crowns on sticks, all of the food was adorned with crowns,
