By the time Elizabeth got back to the dorm, the sun had dipped low, casting golden stripes across the marble floor. She opened the door quietly, half-expecting Amara to be out. But her roommate was lounging on her bed, scrolling through her phone with a face mask on and a silk bonnet tied securely in place.
Amara didn't even look up. "You're late. That was the longest two-hour detention of your life."
Elizabeth kicked off her shoes and flopped onto her own bed. "It ran over."
Now Amara looked at her. "Ran over?" She peeled her mask off in one quick swoop, tossed it into the trash, and narrowed her eyes. "What happened?"
Elizabeth stared at the ceiling. "Nothing."
"Girl."
"Seriously, nothing… physical." A pause."But it was definitely something."
Amara shot up like she'd been shocked. "You're joking."
Elizabeth shook her head slowly.
Amara stared. "Don't tell me it was Professor Stone."
Silence.
"Elizabeth!"
Elizabeth groaned, dragging a pillow over her face. "I didn't do anything!"
"Oh my God. Did he say something? Did he touch you?"
"No. Of course not. But…" Elizabeth pulled the pillow down and met Amara's wide eyes. "He looked at me. And I swear for a second, the room just… changed."
Amara flopped back onto her bed, dramatic. "Oh no. You've got a crush on Mr. Untouchable."
"Crush? I don't do crushes," Elizabeth scoffed, untying her hair. "Besides, he's my teacher. Isn't that illegal in America or something?"
Amara smirked. "Only if you get caught."
Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "Very reassuring."
"Anyways, newbie, there's a school dance coming up" Amara squealed "I'm so excited. It's the one night we can break rules in this fucking school and get away with it"
"That's great. I'm not going," Elizabeth said, completely unfazed.
Amara froze mid-scroll, eyes wide. "Not going?" she gasped like Elizabeth had just insulted Beyoncé. "That's literal social suicide."
"Yeah, no kidding," she added, already spinning around on the bed. "The other kids already think you're cold because Her Majesty Kacey Van Doren's brainwashed half the school into believing you're the worst thing to happen since mandatory uniforms. And skipping the dance? That's just asking to be crowned lame British ice queen."
Elizabeth groaned. "Oh God. Do I need a dress?"
"You need the dress," Amara corrected, already pulling out her phone. "Don't worry. I know people. Plus it's next week so we have plenty of time to figure out what we're gonna wear."
The next day came too early, as usual.
Elizabeth dragged herself through the marble halls of Bridgerton Academy. Amara had sprinted ahead for a meeting with her debate team, leaving Elizabeth to navigate the sea of designer backpacks and judgmental stares alone.
She'd almost made it to her locker when she heard the all too familiar voice of Kacey
"Still here?" Kacey's voice rang out, her two blonde minions standing beside her.
Elizabeth continued walking. "Good morning to you too, Satan."
Kacey stepped in closer, her smile razor-sharp. "you might want to keep your mouth shut before you piss off the wrong people."
Elizabeth tilted her head, her tone deadly sweet. "I'd rather piss off the wrong people than suck up to them."
Kacey's smile twitched, brittle at the edges. "Just giving you some advice, Whitmore. Stay in your lane. Bridgerton's already got a queen."
"Like I give a shit." Elizabeth folded her arms. "I don't know what it is about me that gets you so worked up, and frankly, I don't care. But if you think I'm going to roll over and let you play mean-girl royalty, you've got the wrong Brit."
Kacey's eyes narrowed. "You'll learn."
"Maybe. But you'll learn faster if you stop talking to me like I'm one of your minions."
That did it.
Kacey shoved her shoulder
Elizabeth didn't hesitate.
She shoved back.
Harder.
The echo of her palms hitting Kacey's blazer cracked through the hallway like a gunshot. Gasps followed. A teacher's voice yelled from somewhere behind them.
"Miss Whitmore!"
Elizabeth turned slowly, jaw clenched. Mr. Hartford, the assistant head of student affairs, stormed down the hallway.
Kacey instantly dialed up the performance. Her eyes watered, her lip quivered just enough to make her look fragile and wronged. Oscar-worthy.
Elizabeth didn't flinch.
"Care to explain what I just witnessed?" Mr. Hartford demanded, his voice icy.
"She pushed me," Kacey said quickly, eyes downcast like she was the victim. "I was just trying to help. She's been hostile since she got here."
"Jesus Christ," Elizabeth muttered under her breath.
"Language," Mr. Hartford snapped. "Miss Whitmore, that's two physical altercations in the same week."
"She started it," Elizabeth said flatly.
"I don't care who started it. What I care about is who got caught," he said, scribbling something furiously onto the clipboard. "You've just earned yourself another afternoon in detention. Report to Room 3C at four sharp."
Kacey's smirk was smug and victorious as she turned on her heel and sauntered away.
Elizabeth stared after her, her jaw tight.
Great! She'd only been here a week and had already managed to rack up two detentions.
Elizabeth sighed and glanced down at the slip in her hand. Room 3C. Same as last time.
Same professor. Professor Stone.