Stealing Princes by Tyne O'Connell

Author:Tyne O'Connell
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: royalty, princes, posh, school romance, english aristocracy, school friendships, british boarding school
Publisher: Tyne O'Connell

NINETEEN

When Your Obsessions Become Obsessive, a Nemesis Can Prove Very Handy!

I didn’t tell Star I’d peeped at Portia’s message when she dumped her books in the booth beside mine during study period later the next evening. Star’s jaundiced feelings about Freddie were one thing; her feelings about me sneaking a look at Portia’s private messages from him would be another matter entirely.

At boarding school, you might share make-up, sweets, fags, phone lists and messages but you didn’t just help yourself to other people’s phones without asking. I was in the wrong and I knew it and I didn’t need anyone else to point it out to me – especially my best friend. So I sat in my study booth, poring over my Latin books as if I cared deeply about conjugations of the verb.

Honey felt differently about sharing my shame. I reddened as I heard her telling Georgina, ‘Did Calypso tell you, she stole Portia’s phone and read a message from Freddie telling Portia to tell her . . .’

That was the end of my focus. The examiners may as well fail me now, I decided, as my face went through every shade of red before finally settling on a nasty shade of heliotrope.

‘It wasn’t like that,’ I protested.

Star looked disgusted. ‘Calypso?’

‘Look, Honey showed me a message which was about me, anyway and then Portia walked in and . . .’ That was as far as I got because Portia actually did walk in at that moment and heard herself being discussed.

I fled the scene and went into the computer room because I was about to burst into tears. I was struggling with my coursework, at war with my closest fencing partner, and had no idea if I had a boyfriend or not. I decided a bit of self pity was in order but the teacher in the computer room didn’t agree. She told me to get back and do my study, so I did, only this time I sat amongst another group of girls from my year and logged on to my laptop to see if I had any e-mails from my parents.

Unlike the other parents, who send postcards and letters, Bob and Sarah don’t believe in snail mail, so I have to settle for e-mails. Essentially this means I have nothing from my family to pin on my pin board which makes me look like an unloved child.

I was feeling very unloved at that moment.

But there wasn’t an e-mail from Bob or Sarah – well, there was, but I didn’t look at it, because right underneath there was an e-mail from Freddie.

Dear Calypso,

Given your resolute refusal to respond to my text messages, voice mails and phone calls this week, I am giving you the opportunity to communicate with me by e-mail.

F

This set my mind racing. Freddie was trying to contact me. Maybe the problem wasn’t him? Maybe it wasn’t even me? Maybe it was my bloody ancient brick of a phone? I started typing rapidly.

I’m sorry but I

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