generation or that her parents finally had no other choice except to get divorced.
Anyway, Imperia couldn’t wait to go to Warren Academy, and then she did, and it was awful because on the first day, the very first day, the girls there made Grace cry.
And because Grace has cried every day since, Imperia is in the principal’s office, with her hand bandaged, because she had to visit the school nurse before ending up here, and she has discovered that Greater World nurses don’t have magic wands, they have antibiotics and bandages and they say things like “It’ll take some time to heal” and “You’re lucky you didn’t break anything” like they can’t fix anything at all.
The principal’s office has wood paneling and a fireplace even though Imperia’s pretty sure that’s for show, since they’re in Los Angeles (pardon: they’re in Beverly Hills . Los Angeles is a different town—a poorer town) and Los Angeles ( Beverly Hills ) is really hot and Imperia can’t imagine ever using the fireplace.
There’s a receptionist in this front room, and a beautiful carved door leading to the actual principal’s office, and another door—not as beautiful—with a sign on it for the assistant principal. But Imperia will have to deal with the real principal because Daddy’s been dealing with the real principal.
Daddy’s come in here a couple of times to complain about the way that Grace is being treated, and he’s done everything, including threatening to take the girls elsewhere, although no one really knows where elsewhere is. Finally, he talked to a friend of his who has a lot of kids and that friend said that maybe the girls were picking on Grace because they were too scared to pick on Imperia and Imperia should just stop them the next time they picked on Grace.
Imperia and Grace were both raised to fight their own battles, so Imperia standing up for Grace was a pretty revolutionary idea. Or at least, to Daddy it seems revolutionary because he doesn’t know about all the things that Imperia does behind the scenes for Grace, how Imperia protects her and makes sure she doesn’t hear anything, and makes sure she has a good book to read and a quiet place to be. Imperia always stands up for Grace, but usually not against bullies, because in the Kingdom, no one bullies the Prince’s daughters, even if they don’t like the Prince.
Here, though, here is different, and no one seems to care who they all are, not that Imperia can tell them, because everyone here thinks fairy tales are make-believe. So Imperia can’t say, I’m next in line to the throne , and expect it to mean anything, and she can’t threaten them with her grandfather’s Ultimate Authority, and her glares don’t seem to be working either.
She has no real tricks any more and she tried to tell Daddy that, but he didn’t understand. Daddy’s a pacifist, and he’s probably not going to like the way that Imperia defended Grace—Daddy’s going to hate the idea of fists—and Imperia doesn’t want the principal to say anything. Imperia’s been sitting on the expensive leather chair next to the reception desk, hugging her legs to her chest and resting her face against her knees, wondering how she’s going to manipulate this conversation.
After all, Imperia doesn’t have charm and she’s too young to have magic (Girls don’t come into their magic until they’re too old to have children), and so she’s just going to have to wing it. And time has proven that Imperia isn’t good at winging things.
“Miss Encanto,” the receptionist says, putting a hand on the little thing that looks like an earbud jutting out of her ear. “Principal Daley will see you now.”
Imperia takes a deep breath but through her nose, a trick she learned a long time ago. If she takes it through her nose, no one knows she’s trying to calm nerves. Grandmother taught her that and a few other tricks, all designed to show how strong she is even when she’s not