I'm in the last group of the day to go, clustered up with people like Harper, Becky, and Ilean. Talk about a raw deal.

We dress down, and I’m subject to an inordinate amount of strap-snapping from the other girls. By the time we actually get out the locker room and over to the pool, my back is pink and sore from having my bathing suit yanked and snapped against me. It's infuriating, but I've already broken my no violence rule once, and I won't stoop that low again. Let them pick on me: I have much better things planned.

We all climb in the pool for warm-ups, stretching, and following Coach Hannah as she runs through the routine on dry land. About halfway through, she gets a phone call from her daughter who's just days away from having a baby. She briefly excuses herself, and I sigh as I bob in the water, wishing this day would just end. I know I can swim, not only because of last year's PE classes, but also because I spent the summer practicing.

What I don't realize until it’s too late, is that the girls are slowly forming a circle around me. Harper smirks at me as I finally take notice of the fact that I'm surrounded by Bluebloods and Plebs alike.

Warily, I sigh, and run my palm over my wet hair. “What do you want, Harper?”

“What do I want?” she asks, eyes widening in shock, like I've just personally offended her or something. “I want my fucking hair back.”

“Yeah, we all do,” I retort snootily, tired and overworked and ready for bed. “So what?”

Harper sneers at me, an expression I am well-used to. I don't mind when she does it, because what she doesn't know is that she's no longer pretty when she’s scowling like that.

“I don't know what you did to get the prince on your side so fast, probably spread your legs or whatever, but I don't like it. You've turned him against us when he should be on our side; frankly, we should kick Zayd or Creed out and Windsor should be an Idol.” Harper swims closer to me, and I back up, but there's nowhere to go. “I'm going to teach you a little lesson about stirring shit up during my parties. Ladies.” She gestures with her chin, and the girls all swim closer, grabbing onto my shoulders, arms, even snatching clumps of my hair.

Before I can even register what's happening, they're pushing me under.

I'm so shocked, but accidentally take a breath, chlorinated water rushing into my lungs, stealing my breath away. I begin to choke, but that only makes things worse as I'm now inhaling huge mouthfuls of water. My arms and legs thrash, and my nails rake across the skin of the girls nearest me, but it doesn't do any good. There are so many of them that they keep me under with little effort.

Time seems to slow to a crawl, so that I'm seeing each second as a whole minute. I see their legs, dancing beneath the water, the curves of their dark blue academy-issued swimsuits across their thighs. My eyes seem to catch on the black number four on the pool wall, indicating the depth of the water.

Is this really happening? I think, the strength and speed of my struggle slowing dramatically. Am I really going to drown in four fucking feet of water?

My vision starts to darken at the edges, while the center flickers with little white stars. Once that starts happening, all I can think about is my dad and how much I'm going to miss him. My next thoughts … don't make a lot of sense.

I think about Zack, about Tristan, Creed and Zayd. Will any of them miss me? Will any of them care that I’m gone? I know Miranda will, and Andrew, too, probably.

But soon, those thoughts fade away, too, and I start to feel sleepy.

The next thing I know, there's a huge splash that rocks me and jostles the grips of the girls holding onto me. Strong arms wrap around my waist and pull me up and out of the water before hoisting me onto the edge and laying me flat on the cement.

Someone is leaning over me, but I can't see who it is. My vision is too unsure, and I feel like my consciousness is coming in and out. My mystery savior covers my mouth with his own and breathes life into me.

That's the last thing I remember before waking up in the nurse’s office.

The official story is that I got out of the pool to use the restroom, tripped, fell, and hit my head before tumbling into the pool.

It's tempting to rat the girls out, but there are fifteen conflicting stories to compete against mine, so I say nothing. Charlie is called, but the nurse insists there’s no reason for him to drive all the way out here, and he’s got work anyway … but I sure wish I could see him.

That was scary as hell. I almost died. Never did I believe the girls would actually push me that hard.

It turns out that Windsor York is the one who saved me.

Zack looks sick with guilt, and stays by my side the entire day until the nurse discharges me. Miranda, Jessie, and Andrew also come to visit, but it isn’t until I get back to my dorm that I find Windsor waiting for me. Zack stiffens up slightly, but the two men are at least polite to each other as we approach and Windsor pushes up from the wall.

“Ah, milady,” he says, taking my hand and putting my knuckles to his lips. “She lives.”

“Thanks to you,” I say, feeling this cold, scared sickness roll over me. Revenge was sweet … until it wasn’t. Now I’m terrified. I had no idea this was turning into a life or death situation. Creed’s words echo in my head: “The girls want to kill you. Watch out for them.”

“Mm.” Windsor drops my hand and studies me with a very serious expression. Behind me, my friends fan out like a cadre of bodyguards. I wonder if maybe I should call Kathleen Cabot and ask for that Kyle guy back? I haven’t seen him around campus in weeks, so I’m guessing he’s left. I know she wouldn’t hesitate to send him or someone else to watch over me though. “To be quite honest with you, I was only heading out to the pool to perv on you in your swimsuit. My actions were not entirely honorable.” He steps back from me and sighs, and if he were anyone but a brand-new transfer to the school, I’d think he was in on it, like he’d set the drowning up just to save me.

“Well, thank you anyway,” I say, and we stand there staring at each other for several moments more until Zack clears his throat. All I can think as I fumble my key out of the pocket of my robe is that Windsor’s mouth was on mine, and I was too out of it to remember. Somehow, focusing on the not-quite-a-kiss thing keeps me from realizing how deep this shit goes.

The Infinity Club is out for my blood.

Literally.

I head inside … and everyone follows.

Instead of fighting it, I embrace the fact that I’m not alone, letting Zack tuck me into bed before Miranda crawls up on top of the covers and cuddles me. Jessie glares which is hilarious because, unfortunately, I’m as straight as an arrow. If sexuality were a choice, I would one hundred percent choose to be a lesbian. Not only would life be easier, but I’m pretty damn sure Miranda is much safer dating choice than anybody else at Burberry Prep.

Windsor leaves to grab his—get ready for this—personal tea pot, cups, saucers, and a random assortment of his prized loose leaf teas, so he can make us a proper afternoon tea, complete with finger sandwiches he swiped from the kitchen.

The guy’s been at Burberry for all of two weeks, and he’s managed to charm his way into the librarians’ hearts, the kitchen staff, and the campus maintenance shed. Just yesterday, I walked outside and saw him leading a girl into the building where they keep all the lawn mowers and things.

Perv is right.

After we eat, Miranda puts on Not Another Teen Movie which makes everyone in the room groan.

“This is my mom’s favorite movie,” Zack says, but we all end up relaxing and watching it anyway. It’s still funny, even if it’s old.

“Next year, I’m going as Janey Briggs for Halloween,” Miranda declares, sweeping her blonde hair up into a ponytail to imitate the main character’s infamous ‘glasses, ponytail, and paint-covered overalls’ look. I give her a look because we all know she absolutely will not go like that. She won’t wear anything on Halloween that isn’t cute and at least a tad revealing. She says she doesn’t subscribe to the short and slutty rule, but she does, and she likes. Nothing wrong with that though.

“You Americans and your Halloween,” Windsor drawls, sitting in the chair in the corner. He’s the only person not on the bed which is fine by me. I’m having enough trouble remembering how to breathe with Zack sitting so close to me, his huge body practically engulfing mine.

“Do you realize that even as little as I’m around you, you start off at least half your sentences with ‘you Americans’,” I quip, making small quotes with my fingers. I drop my hands back into my lap before I realize that they’re still shaking. Pretty sure I’m exhausted, but I’m also scared to go to sleep. Once I do, I’ll have to remember that blackness closing in on me, the water choking me, the burning pain in my lungs …

“You’re just so adorably fun to make fun of,” he says, shrugging his shoulders as he slips back into his jacket. I’m guessing he got special permission to add those damn epaulettes. They look freaking ridiculous, but I suppose if a rockstar can get special permission to have tattoos and piercings, a prince could get permission to get gold eighties-esque shoulder pad things.

“I happen to think British people are ridiculous,” Miranda quips right back, and Windsor grins, lifting his tea cup up and then taking a long, slow sip. “Are you seriously over there, sippin’ tea?” she asks, throwing a pillow at him. Just to clarify: Miranda learned the phrase sipping tea from watching RuPaul’s Drag Race. It means, like, to tell the truth in a sort of shady way or to listen to other people gossip.

Andrew is grinning, enjoying the exchange, but I see the way his eyes take in Windsor. He totally has a crush on the prince. Hell, so does Miranda, and she’s gay. Pretty sure the whole of Burberry Prep Academy is in love with the prince.

“Why don’t you have bodyguards?” I ask him as he stands up and starts to clean up the empty tea cups. “I feel like there are probably a lot of people that would want to kill you: foreign governments, criminals looking for someone to ransom, dads of girls you’ve slept with.”