Hypocrisy and forced smile

Rowan's POV

I hated this already. The students, the look on their faces, the school, even the smile on the headteacher’s face.

The fact that the entire student body had been gathered outside to welcome me felt ridiculous and hypocritical. Why would they gather outside as if they truly cared? The headteacher had this annoying smile as if this wasn’t just another performance, another deceit dressed as courtesy.

My jaw was tight as I stepped forward. Painfully aware of every stare.

The girls in front were giggling as if they've seen their favourite idol. They were not even trying to hide their shamelessness. I couldn't ignore how they were whispering behind their hands like this was some spectacle they had been waiting for.

And the boys, they had this surprise look etched on their faces. Some were impressed, maybe by the customized limousine. Others were curious. I would be curious about myself too.

They own their eyes and their brains. Let them stare all they want, I thought bitterly. But another thought countered the previous one. They didn’t know me. They didn’t know why I was here. And none of them had the right to act as though my arrival meant anything special.

Henry leaned slightly closer to me. “The gawking aside, What's on your mind?”

“The gawking you kept aside,” I murmured.

“Ignore it,” he murmured back, calm as always. “They’ll lose interest.”

Easy for him to say when he wasn’t the one being paraded like an exhibit. Ignoring him, I lifted my chin and scanned the crowd, and then I saw him.

He stood out without trying. A typical golden boy. Effortlessly confident. The kind of person who probably never had to work hard to be liked. The kind of person girls would fall for without even knowing why.

He should have been smiling. Maybe laughing. Enjoying the moment like others. But he wasn’t.

He was frowning. Not that kind of dramatic frown. Not the kind meant to draw sympathy. It was subtle but real. It looked like something about this entire situation genuinely bothered him.

Our eyes almost met but I looked away immediately, annoyed at myself for even noticing him. Why should I care what some stranger thinks when I have my own problems?

Still, a second later, I glanced back. And guess what, he was still looking at me. His gaze was fixed on me. He wasn't even ready to wink at all.

What I saw in his eyes wasn't regular. It wasn't admiration, nor awe. Not even judgment. It was something else. Something I couldn't decipher.

Without doing much, this boy had occupied my mind and my chest tightened for no logical reason.

Who is this boy? I muttered under my breath, more to myself than anyone else.

My brother turned his head. “Which boy?”

I blinked, realizing I’d spoken aloud.

“No one,” I replied quickly, feeling absurd.

He gave me a knowing look. “You always do that when you’re nervous.”

“I’m not nervous,” I snapped, keeping my voice low.

He smiled slightly. “Of course not.”

The headteacher stepped forward to speak, but I barely listened. The queen and the king were her guests, not me. My attention kept drifting back to the boy in the crowd.

Every time I tried to dismiss him, my mind returned to his face, to that frown. To the way he hadn’t joined in with the rest.

Most people reacted to royalty with forced reverence or eager excitement. He reacted like he didn’t care. I might be curious about him but that irritated me more than curiosity.

As the introductions dragged on, my hand moved to the back of my head. My brother kept giving me a sign to stand well but after correction, I unconsciously put my hand back.

This entire display felt staged. They just want to look respectful and welcoming. Meanwhile I could feel the distance. I could always feel it.

When it was finally time to speak to me, I stepped forward, closing the space between me and the headteacher.

She had the same annoying smile on her face. I wonder if her face hurts from forcing a smile. “Welcome to Hillsborough, Prince Rowan. I'm the principal of this great college. You can call me principal Whitcombe.”

“Nice to meet you,” I said without putting much effort.

“Mrs Whitcombe, I must trust you to keep our conversation in mind,” my father said.

“You don't have to worry, your lordship. Rowan is in good hands.”

“I'll appreciate that,” my father said, flashing me a look.

I knew he must have told her to be strict with me. I promise, if this principal tries anything stupid, I won't hesitate to forget the royal conduct and legacy.

Henry leaned towards me. “I know that look,” he said quietly.

“Then you better expect anything from me,” I whispered back.

“You’re overthinking,” he said. “You don’t have to prove anything here, Rowan.”

“I’m not trying to prove anything,” I muttered. “But if our parents want to prove something, I'll have to prove them wrong.”

“Just keep a lid on it. This place doesn’t deserve that much effort.”

I almost laughed at that. Keep a lid on it? Like our parents kept a lid on it.

“Let's go in,” the principal announced before I could reply.

With an orderly manner, all the students matched back inside. My brother gestured that I followed behind. I didn't want to because I wasn't officially a student but I did after I saw the look on my mother's face.

Inside, the noise faded slightly, but the stares didn't. I didn’t care about making friends. I didn’t care about them being on my side. I certainly didn’t care about impressing anyone.

That was when I heard a girly voice nearby.

“So that’s him.”

Another replied, amused. “Not what I expected.”

“Of course not. He’s royalty. They’re never what you expect.”

I exhaled slowly, my jaw tightening. I should get used to it. Hearing gossip about me isn't something new.

From the same direction, I heard a quieter voice. “Stop staring. You're making him uncomfortable.”

Finally, someone that understands.

I couldn't help but look at the girl that made the statement. She sat amidst her friends, her blonde hair shining like golden lights. Her features were striking, a perfect blend of softness and strength that set her apart from the crowd.

As she talked to her friends, her presence seemed to radiate an effortless confidence. One could tell that she wasn't the regular wealthy girl. She was more.

Despite being surrounded by others, she exuded an aura of quiet distinction just like someone. The golden boy I just met.

Who are these people? And why do I keep noticing them?