The princess flinched at her words. “I didn’t realize I was a complication.”
“You know I didn’t mean it like that,” Nina insisted, though her gaze followed Sam’s toward the collage.
What if this was an accurate depiction of Nina’s life? What if her mom had never interviewed for the chamberlain job, if Nina and Sam had never become such good friends? How would Nina’s life be different—or, more importantly, how would Nina be different?
Even as a child, Nina had instinctively known that she had to give way to Sam. Not necessarily because she was royal, though that was certainly part of it. But Sam had enough personality for two people—which always made Nina feel like she needed to back down a bit, to compensate. Sam was unpredictable and irrepressible and laughing and mischievous. She had always been the one to set their plans, come up with their schemes. And she expected Nina to follow her lead without question.
Nina thought of all the times she had quietly done whatever Sam wanted, without even stopping to consider what she might want. When they went shopping for new backpacks in fifth grade, Sam had demanded the bright blue one, even though she knew blue was Nina’s favorite color. Last year when they got their tattoos together, Sam had chosen the design, and only then had asked Nina whether she liked it. She begged Nina to come to events where she wouldn’t know many people, then ditched her to make out with some new guy in a closet.
Come to think of it, Sam was an unreliable and thoughtless friend. Selfish, even.
“Sam,” she said quietly. “It hasn’t always been easy, being your best friend.”
“Why?” Sam demanded, instantly on the defensive.
“Because. A friendship is supposed to be equal, and absolutely nothing about our friendship has ever been equal.” Nina let out a breath. “I know you never consciously tried to make me feel inferior. But traveling on all these vacations that your family pays for, driving your car around the capital because my parents wouldn’t buy me one, going to galas in your cast-off dresses, where everyone just looks right through me like I’m not even there. The only thing worse than feeling invisible is feeling like your charity case.”
She met Sam’s gaze. “It’s easier with the friends I’ve made at college. We’re all taking the same classes and going to the same parties. We’re just … equals.”
Sam’s face was dazed, almost incredulous, but beneath it Nina saw an unmistakable hurt. “I didn’t realize,” she said, stating the obvious. “But, Nina, none of those things matter to me, not the money or the titles or the vacations.”
“They only ‘don’t matter’ to you because you have them,” Nina replied. It came out more snappish than she’d meant it to. But really. Nina was the furthest thing in the world from a social climber, yet even she couldn’t help being constantly aware of those things. Money, titles, and her lack thereof.
It was hard not to resent Sam a little bit, for being so blissfully unaware of the struggles everyone else faced.
“Well, forget what the world thinks,” Sam replied, striving for an upbeat tone.
“Forget what the world thinks?” Nina asked, incredulous. “How am I supposed to do that when millions of people are currently trash-talking me? They don’t think I’m good enough for your brother.”
“Of course you’re good enough!”
“Do you really think that?” Nina wasn’t sure what instinct was urging her onward. Maybe it just felt good, pushing back at Sam for once, instead of letting the princess’s desires steamroll over her own.
“I wouldn’t be your friend if I didn’t think so,” Sam replied.
That comment sent Nina over the edge. Because in typical Sam fashion, she hadn’t really answered the question—hadn’t told Nina that she was smart and classy, and to ignore the internet trolls. She had just delivered her own opinion as if it were fact, and let that rest her case.
“Are we friends?” Nina heard herself ask, her voice terrifyingly even. “Because the way I see it, you show up here when it’s convenient for you—barging into my dorm room, summoning me to some party or theater performance, always wanting to talk about you and your problems. I’m not at your beck and call, Samantha. I’m supposed to be your friend. Not an assistant, not a secretary, not someone you can take for granted. A friend!”
The words bubbled up out of her like acid, years of frustration and bottled-up insecurities finally boiling over. And for once, Nina felt powerless to hold it all back.
Sam flushed a bright red. “I always thought of you like a sister, Nina, but I guess I’ve been wrong the whole time, since apparently I’ve been hurting your feelings throughout our years of friendship.”
“Like a sister?” Nina repeated. “That doesn’t count for much, based on the way you treat your real sister.”
The moment the comment left her mouth, Nina regretted it—but the damage had been done.
Her words were followed by complete and total silence.
I’m sorry, Nina wanted to say; I didn’t mean it—except that wasn’t entirely true. She had meant it, or at least some part of her had meant it.
Sam had pulled her lower lip into her teeth, the way she did when she was struggling not to cry. “I’ll get out of here. God forbid my presence ruins your perfect college life.”