Rich Boys Poor Girl: A Reverse Harem High School Bully Romance (Rich Boys Poor Girl Book 1) Read online

  The large golden gates part, allowing the limo entrance into the school courtyard. My head spins as I take it all in. From the large water fountain in front of the massive school building, to the trees and grass surrounding the area, to the many students dressed in blue uniforms prancing about.

  “Wow,” I mutter under my breath. “I’m actually here.”

  The driver stops the limo and climbs out. He makes his way to the back and opens the door, holding out a hand to me. “Queenswood Academy, miss.”

  I accept his hand, letting him help me out of the limo. My jaw practically drops to the ground as I get a better look at the building. The place is a mansion, Victorian style even though it doesn’t look very old. Just by looking at it, you can tell only the exclusive of the exclusive attend.

  The driver gathers my bags from the trunk and helps me carry them to the building. I catch sight of the many guys and girls milling about, some laughing, many chatting, most definitely about their summer vacation.

  As I pass a group of blonde-haired girls, their plaid blue uniform skirts rolled just a bit too high, they stop talking and pin their gazes on me. The girl in the center’s hazel eyes scan me from top to bottom and her lips curl into a snarl. I follow her gaze, but I don’t understand how her uniform is different from mine, aside from the fact that mine reaches just above my knees while hers barely covers the tops of her thighs.

  “Hi,” she says, loud enough to hear her on Mars. “I’m Heather McLauren. You must be the peasant.”

  “The peasant?”

  Her friends burst into giggles. She turns up her nose like she smells something foul. “What else do you call a poor girl attending on scholarship?”

  What in the world?

  “Excuse me, miss,” the driver says. For a second, I forgot he’s still here. “May I escort you inside?”

  The girls continue to snicker and giggle as I follow the man into the school building. He lays all my bags on the floor before the front desk, wishes me a good day with a tip of his cap, and walks out of the building. I nearly gasp in wonder as my head once again spins around in all different directions. This room is huge. Many different portraits adorn the walls, the floor is polished so hard it sparkles. Two sets of wooden spiral staircases lead to the upper floors, and there’s a lounge area with a beautiful fireplace.

  “Hi,” a voice says from behind me. “You must be Danica.”

  Spinning around, I spot a girl with brown hair and glasses standing before me. Her skirt isn’t lifted like the other girls I encountered. She holds out her hand. “I’m Samantha—Sam—your student guide.”

  I blink at her. “Student guide?”

  “All new students receive a guide. Follow me and I’ll give you the grand tour.”

  I reach for my bags, but she waves her hand. “Oh, don’t worry about them. The staff will bring them to your room.”

  “Staff? My room? As in, I get my own room?”

  She chuckles. “Well, yeah. You don’t expect to share a room, do you?”

  Uh, I heard that’s pretty standard for most schools. Sam gives me a bright smile before starting the tour.

  She begins talking about the history of the school. “In the early 1900s, three men had a dream to start a boarding school for boys. Their names were Albert Aldridge, Francis Montgomery, and Asher Worthington.” She beams at me. “Yep, you guessed it. The founders of the school are none other than the great grandfathers of the Queenswood Princes.”

  I gape at her. “The what?”

  Her brown eyes widen. “You’ve never heard of the Queenswood Princes?”

  “Should I?”

  She stares at me like I’ve lost my mind. “Have you been living under a rock?” Then her gaze sweeps over me, taking me in from top to bottom. “Oh yeah, I guess you have.”

  What the heck does she and the other girls see that I don’t? Our uniforms are identical.

  She motions for me to follow her as we continue on with the tour. “If you’re planning to spend the next three years here, you should learn how things run. The Princes own Queenswood, literally and figuratively, though the school is mostly funded by the Worthington family. The guys are the princes, but really, Declan is the king.”

  “So who are the other princes?” I ask.

  “Ethan Aldridge and Colt Montgomery.” She sighs wistfully. I get the impression that these Princes are the most popular guys at school, worshiped by all, and that half the girls at school are madly in love with them.

  Sam continues with the tour, and my mind is boggled. There are so many rooms here, and that doesn’t even include the classrooms. I mean, they have a bowling alley in the recreation building. Building, not room. They have a whole building just for down time. Every bone in my body is already itching to tackle the arcade games and virtual reality. But I doubt I’ll have time to indulge—I’ll most likely be holed up in my room trying to catch up with schoolwork. I’m not the best student and this curriculum is tough.

  The tour ends with Sam dropping me off at the girls’ dorm. I’m on the top floor, in a room all the way in the back that’s a little isolated from the rest of the rooms. Almost like it’s hardly ever used, and it doesn’t take long for me to understand why. It’s much smaller than the others, and I know this because I passed by a few rooms with open doors. But I’m not complaining. The fact that I’m able to attend this school with free room and board means the world to me.

  “Thanks for the tour,” I tell Sam. “It’ll take forever until I know the place by heart. I’ll probably get lost a lot.”

  “No prob. Don’t forget, orientation starts in an hour.”

  My bags have already been brought up, stacked neatly near my bed. I start unpacking and by the time I’m done, I hear the corridor echoing with voices. Girls probably headed to orientation. Considering I have no idea where the auditorium is, I hurry out of my room and follow closely behind.

  A few girls turn their heads in my direction and get that disgusted face that girl Heather showered me with only an hour ago. But most of them pretend I don’t exist. They all file into the auditorium and choose seats toward the back, leaving a few free seats sprinkled around. I choose one toward the middle of the back, having no choice but to squeeze past other students’ feet, eliciting frustrated groans.

  With a huff, I lower myself in my seat and lean back. The girl next to me, pretty, tall, with strawberry blond hair, twists her body to look at me.

  “Hey,” I say, stretching out a hand. “I’m Danica Stewart.”

  Her gaze drops to my hand and her nose twists as though maggots are attached to my skin. She, too, gives me a quick sweep and doesn’t like what she finds. I’m about to pop a blood vessel, when I finally realize the difference between their uniforms and mine. Theirs is crisp, neatly pressed, and look like a million bucks. Mine? Well, it definitely doesn’t match up. I don’t understand why—I took such good care of it the past few weeks. Maybe it got wrinkled on the way over here. I was stuck in a limo for two hours.

  There’s a sudden charge in the air. My whole body perks up, my eyes swiftly flicking around until I discover the source of that energy. Three guys stroll into the auditorium, one of them none other than Declan Worthington. A guy with raven black hair that reaches just blow his shoulders flanks him on the right, and on his left is a guy with short, curly light brown hair.

  The Queenswood Princes, I presume.

  As they continue their leisure stroll into the auditorium, their shoulders raised high in importance, I swear their hair blows as though a soft breeze passes over them. Which is impossible because all the windows are closed and it’s a little stuffy. It’s almost like in those movies where soft music plays in the background as they march in slow-mo. Every single head is turned in their direction, utterly entrapped. Girls watch them with desperate longing in their eyes, guys stare at them with a mix of jealousy and respect.

  The charge in the air intensifies the deeper they walk into the room. They stop by the middle row in
the back section of the auditorium, and the kids sitting near the aisle quickly jump up to let them pass.

  A collective sigh permeates through the room, all coming from the girls. I don’t blame them, the three of them are so damn good-looking it should be illegal. And I have to admit that Declan is the most good-looking of them all. I’m sure he’s the star of most of these girls’ fantasies.

  The guy with the long raven hair, who gives off an aura of mystery, busies himself with his phone. Interesting, since we’re not allowed to use our phones during school hours. The one with the curly light brown hair starts flirting with the girls seated next to him, and Declan just sits there, staring ahead.

  A few minutes later, he turns his head and studies the students surrounding him. His eyes sweep from right to left, back and forth, as though he’s looking for something. Or is it someone? As his beautiful piercing blue eyes survey the room, a satisfied smile teases the corner of his lips. He’s about to turn around, when his gaze lands on mine. His eyes narrow to slits, his lips pressed into a firm line, and he twists his head around. He leans to whisper to the raven-haired guy. He, too, turns around to look at me, pinning me with eyes the most beautiful shade of green. Like emeralds. He doesn’t glare at me, just watches me curiously. Then he turns around just as Principal Hipskind walks into the auditorium and marches up to the stage.

  The next hour is full of speeches, welcoming the students to another year at the academy and how they expect great things from us this year. We are, as he puts it, the future. Then we’re hit with the school rules, which I pay very close attention to, but the others look bored to death. He also mentions that there will be security guards surveying the premises and that the students might not be able to leave campus as often as they used to, which gets him some groans and curses. I wonder if this has anything to do with the assassination attempt on Declan Worthington. Even though they caught the guy, he was just a hit man and he’s not talking. The guy pulling the strings is still out there.

  Then we’re invited to the banquet in the cafeteria. A grand affair to welcome Queenswood’s prized students back to school. Truth is, I’m starving. I couldn’t get anything down this morning because I was a bundle of nerves.

  As I fall in line with the other students making their way out of the auditorium, each of them impeccably dressed in their uniforms, someone stretches out a leg. I trip and glide on the polished floor, my palms and knees skidding across the room, my head slamming into the wall.

  With a groan, I rub my head. Laughter breaks out all around me.

  “Watch it, Peasant Girl,” a guy says, lightly kicking my ribs with his expensive black loafer.

  “Yeah, we wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself,” that girl Heather says.

  As she passes me, she steps on my hand. Actually steps on it. But she doesn’t put enough weight to break any fingers.

  There’s a small group surrounding me, snickering and looking down at me like I’m lower than the ants on the floor. A few give me gentle kicks with their damn expensive shoes. But then I feel a pair of eyes burning into my skin, and when I raise my head, I find Declan Worthington standing a few feet away. Glaring at me like I’m even lower than the ants on the ground.

  Flipping his russet hair with a flick of his head, he marches away.

  Chapter Four

  The banquet is stunning. Two long tables are decked with the most delicious-looking food I’ve ever seen. Most of the kids take only a dish or two, clearly not fazed by the amazingness of this food, but I’m not holding back. I grab a plate and load it up with dishes I’ve never seen before in my life.

  I find an empty table and sit down, ignoring the pain in my left knee. There’s a small wound on both of them and on my palms, my hand stings, and I’m sure there’s a bump on my head. Maybe I should see the nurse? What the hell was that about, anyway?

  This food is heaven. I don’t know what I should eat first, and scarf it all down as though I haven’t eaten in days.

  “Enjoying yourself?” a cold voice says.

  With my fork inches away from lips, some spaghetti and shrimp hanging off the sides, I raise my eyes and find Declan standing there with his friends flanking him on either side. A whole bunch of other students are surrounding them, too.

  “What?” I ask.

  He crosses his arms over his chest, not crinkling his shirt which must take a lot of skill, and pins harsh, blue eyes on me. “I said, are you enjoying yourself?”

  “Um. Yeah?” I lower my fork to my plate, noticing how shaky my hand is.

  Declan’s eyes grow even more furious. He takes a small step closer, causing his hair to fall over his left eye. “You think you have the right to eat that?”

  “What?” I glance at everyone else. They stare at me as though I’m sewage. Well, except for the raven-haired guy. His expression is emotionless. Heather and her cronies, who stand near Declan, look like they want to claw at my face.

  Declan tightens his arms over his chest. “I said, do you think you have the right to eat that?”

  I lower my shaking hand to my lap and open my mouth, hoping my lips aren’t trembling, too. “I have the same right as anyone else here.”

  He steps closer until he hits the table, his eyes harsher than before. “Do your parents pay for that food? Did they pay for that uniform? Do they fund this building?” He throws his hand toward the ceiling. “Have they paid for anything?”

  It feels like cotton’s lodged in my throat. I look around at everyone else, noticing that their expressions have grown harsher as well.

  I raise my head toward Declan. “I was invited here. By your dad.”

  “My father does a lot of stupid things.” He rests his palms on the table, leaning toward me until only a few inches remain between our faces. “You don’t belong here, Peasant Girl,” he says in a quiet, soft voice laced with so much malice that every hair on my body stands on edge. “No one wants you here. So get the hell out.”

  I’m as still as a statue, hardly able to breathe. It seems like everyone else has gained on me as well, not leaving a lot of room between us.

  I look back at Declan, noticing his eyes gleaming with hatred—pure, unadulterated hatred. For me.

  He backs up a bit and narrows his eyes to slits. “This is your final warning, peasant. Get the hell out or we’ll make your time here in Queenswood Academy a living nightmare.”

  He turns on his heel and strides out of the room. The two other Princes follow suit, not giving me a second glance.

  A guy grabs my still-full plate off the table. He marches over to the nearby bin and chucks it inside. I’m on my feet in an instant. “Hey, that’s a waste of food.”

  He plucks the bin off the floor and tosses it before me. “Go fishing, Peasant Girl. Because that’s the only food you’ll eat today.”

  I look past him toward the buffet tables. They’ve set up a student blockade, cutting off any access to the food. I search for a teacher or staff member, but it looks like none of them are around.

  The guy pushes the bin closer to me. “What are you waiting for? Dig inside like the trash you are.”

  I once again gaze from one face to the other, hoping for—I don’t know—that someone would bail me out? But it looks like they’re all out for my blood. Then I notice Sam standing on the side, shifting from one foot to the other. When her eyes catch mine, she turns away.

  Pushing away from the table, I make my way toward the exit of the cafeteria. But some guys, including the one with the bin, stand in my way. “Where are you off to?” he sneers. “You didn’t finish eating.”

  “Can I pass?” I say.

  He cups a hand over his ear. “What?”

  I grit my teeth. “I said, can I pass?”

  “I don’t think I heard a please. Chris, did you hear one?” he throws at the guy standing next to him. Chris is a big guy, all muscle and no fat. I’m sure he can snap my limbs in half like twigs.

  With an amused grin, he says, “No, Jayson, I don’t
think I heard a please.”

  It takes all I have not to roll my eyes. “Can I please pass?”

  “Get on your hands and knees and beg,” Jayson says.

  “What?”

  “And while you’re at it, maybe you can shine my shoes. It’s been hours since they’ve gotten a decent polish.”

  I just gape at him. “Are you for real?”

  He points to the floor. “On your hands and knees, Peasant Girl.”

  “If you think I’m going to give in to this lunacy, you’ve got another thing coming.”

  His eyes flash with anger. “Who the hell do you think you are to talk back to me? You bit—” His mouth snaps shut when several teachers enter the room. He tosses me a death glare before stalking off, the others following behind.

  I make a mad dash for the exit and hurry to the girls’ dorm.

  ***

  Lying in bed with my stuffed camel squeezed to my chest, I try not to let what happed in the cafeteria consume me. But of course it’s the only thing I can think about. Spoiled, rotten little bullies. Who the hell do they think they are? Just because they have money, they think they rule the world? That they can step on anyone they want and treat people like dirt?

  I knew asshole Declan Worthington was behind it all. I freakin’ saved his life. And this is how he repays me?

  It’s clear I won’t have any allies in this school. Even my guide Sam turned her back on me.

  There’s supposed to be entertainment right now, a famous band and dancing. There’s no way I can bring myself over there. I don’t need to subject myself to any more humiliation. I don’t know how I’ll get through my days here.

  Sweeping up my phone, I video chat my parents.

  “Danica!” Mom’s bright face comes into view, and my whole body deflates with relief. I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy to see her. “Marcus!” she calls. “Marcus, Danica’s on the phone!”

  It doesn’t take long before Dad’s beaming face joins my mother. “There’s our Queenswood girl. Tell us, sweetheart, how was your first day? Was it as wonderful as you imagined?”