Page 60 of Rivals
Nina hesitated. “Even if you did talk to Marshall, I’m not sure it would help.”
“What do you mean?”
Nina tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, causing the peacock feather on her headpiece to sway. “Sam,” she said gently, “I love you, but you will never know what it’s like to be a person of color dating a member of the royal family.”
Sam felt heat rise to her cheeks. “You’re right,” she said clumsily. She should have asked Nina about this long ago. “I…can you help me try to understand?”
Nina leaned her hip against the stone archway. “You know how people are always judging you without having met you? They come to an opinion about you based on some stupid tabloid headlines, and then if they everdoend up meeting you, it’s not with an open mind. No matter what you say, it just reinforces the opinion of you that they’ve already formed.”
Sam nodded. She’d been America’s flighty, unreliable party princess for years, and most people still thought of her that way—in spite of the grueling royal tour she’d done this summer, in spite of how much she’d grown up.
“Imagine it like that, but a million times worse, because I’m not a princessorwhite,” Nina said bluntly. “The moment people meet me, they’ve already made a snap judgment about me based on the color of my skin. That was what made itso hard to date Jeff—because now it wasn’t just a few racist people in my own life judging me, but every last troll on the internet. They put me and my family under the microscope in ways I couldn’t have imagined.”
Sam hated thinking of all the ugly, hateful things people had written about her best friend. “I’m so sorry, Nina.”
“I can’t speak for Marshall, but I can tell you that I didn’t have the easiest time growing up. Some of it was because I always raised my hand in class, and had my nose in a book—I didn’t do myself a ton of favors, socially,” Nina added, with a self-deprecating shrug. “But girls can be so vicious. The CIA could learn a thing or two about emotional torture from middle school cliques.
“I remember this one time, all the girls at my school were carrying quilted designer clutches as pencil cases. I asked my parents for one, because I’m only human, okay? I just wanted to fit in.”
Nina had gone to public school, but given its location in the most affluent part of Washington—all the grace-and-favor houses where government employees lived were five minutes from the palace—it was as academically stringent and socially competitive as a private school.
“My parents refused to purchase a two-hundred-dollar bag for a sixth grader. But my mamá agreed to take me to the wholesale neighborhood at the end of the red metro line, where the stores carry the cheap fake stuff: you know, purses with the brand name misspelled, that kind of thing.”
Nina’s eyes drifted away, to fix on something in the distance. “When I came to school the next week, so proud of my fake designer clutch, Nancy Huntington cornered me in the hallway and knocked the bag to the floor in front of everyone. ‘That’s a fake!’ she said triumphantly, like she’d caught me shoplifting. ‘I know,’ I told her, puzzled. ‘My mamá took me to get it on the east side.’ I’d thought the whole thing was sofun, like it was this private adventure that Mamá and I had shared.
“Nancy just sneered and said, ‘The east side? I should have known. That’s where people like you shop.’ And all the girls laughed and marched off.” Nina’s voice was thick. “I didn’t carry the clutch again after that.”
Sam made an outraged noise in the back of her throat. “Oh my god, whoarethese girls? I’m sending Caleb to hunt them down and slash all their tires!”
That elicited a ghost of a smile from Nina. “It’s okay, it was all a long time ago. And who knows, maybe it was easier for Marshall, since he’s a man, and he’s so good-looking and athletic. I bet everyone in middle school loved him.”
Actually, there was a streak of loneliness—of insecurity—in Marshall, too, Sam thought. But she didn’t want to interrupt.
“When I got to King’s College, it was a fresh start. No one cared that I’m Latina or a huge nerd, or that I have two moms. Everyone just accepted me for who I am.” Nina sighed. “Until I started dating Jeff. Sometimes it was overt, like people debating my skin color in the comments, but a lot of times it was more subtle and more personal. Like when Robert Standish told me that I’m a moreelegantpublic speaker than he had expected.”
“Wait,what?” Sam made a mental note that Robert Standish’s tires were going to get slashed, too.
“Think of all the coverage Marshall got when he was dating you. The headlines never said they didn’t approve of himbecausehe’s Black. Instead they focused on his playboy reputation, calling him the ‘bad-boy duke’ or ‘Hollywood royalty trying to mix with real royalty.’ I don’t know how it was for Marshall, but for me, those articles—and all the ugly comments that people wrote underneath them—crystallized everyinsecurity I’ve ever felt.” Nina swallowed. “When I read those things, I was thirteen years old again, standing there in the hallway while Nancy knocked my bag to the ground and told me how pathetic I was for even trying. It felt like a reminder thatpeople like mecan never really belong.”
Of course you belong,Sam wanted to cry out, but she knew better than to say it aloud. Clearly, there was a large part of the world—far too large—that didn’t share her opinion.
“Nina, I’m so unbelievably sorry. I wish the palace had protected you better when you and Jeff were together. I wish I had done more.”
“I’m not saying this to make you feel guilty, Sam. I’m just trying to make you understand. Marshall loves you, but he also has the media coming at him from every angle, not to mention his family and this legacy that they’ve held on to for generations. I can understand how hard it would be for him to give that up. Especially with all the millions of people of color who are looking up to him, who see him as an example.”
Sam’s heart ached that Marshall and Nina—two of the people she loved most—had gone through all of this. No wonder Marshall had felt like he couldn’t take it anymore.
Sam wrapped her arms around her torso, warding off the chill. Now that she’d spoken to Nina, she longed to talk to Marshall even more. She wanted to say how sorry she was for failing to understand the pressures on him, for being blind to all the problematic parts of their relationship. She’d taken Nina for granted for years, and now, apparently, she’d done the same thing to Marshall.
If only she could have one more chance, so that she could do things better this time.
“Should we head back?” Nina asked. “They’re probably all looking for us.”
Samantha glanced over. “You know, when you texted meand said ‘We’re all going to the decades party,’ I thought you meant you, Rachel, and Jayne. Since when do you and Daphne make plans together? Are you friends now?”
Oddly, Nina didn’t deny it. “We’ve been spending more time together lately. Daphne isn’t quite as bad as I thought.”
Sam was struck by an idea. “Nina, will you come to the League of Kings closing banquet with me? I’m allowed to have a plus-one.”
