This is cruel. It’s so fucking cruel. Being asked this so bluntly, by the same people who will run stories with photos outing me no matter what I say right now. Like it’s mine to share. But it isn’t mine. If it was mine, it would have happened exactly when I was ready. It would’ve been to my loved ones, not to these strangers just so I can take some sort of control of the narrative before they run off with it.

“No,” I say. “I’m not straight.”

There.

It’s done.

My head swims so badly I almost miss the next question.

“What about Edmund?”

What the hell do I say to that? I should’ve taken more time to prepare. I know they can see how guilty I am. I know my face is bright red, and my eyes are glassy, and they’ve got it all on camera, as I say, “No comment.”

“Danni, there have been rumors that you’re in a romantic relationship with Princess Rosemary. Can you comment on that?”

I force my face to relax. I need to look like they’ve stopped asking serious questions and started on the really ridiculous shit. And for god’s sake, for once, I can’t cry.

“Rose is my friend,” I say, concentrating as hard as I can on being casual. “And that’s all. She’s now aware I’m not straight, and she’s handled the information with the respect that I’ve come to expect from her. I’m very lucky to have someone so supportive as a friend of mine.”

“How close are you with Harriet?”

Of course they know her name. They’ve been speaking to our classmates all morning. Still, the question takes me by surprise, and my lip curls. “I’m not,” I spit. “Thank you for your … questions.” Is that how you end an interview? It is now.

The crowd starts to move. The journalists have what they wanted. Now it’s a competition to see who can break the story first.

If I’m lucky, I’ll get the chance to tell Mom before they can.

Gripping onto the sides of her skirt, Rose stands alone to my left, breathing heavily. Farther away from us, Molly and Eleanor have found each other.

I make it to Rose. “How’d yours go?” I ask in a low voice, trying to look as platonic as possible.

“It hurt. More than I expected.”

“I know,” I agree.

It kind of feels like I’ve been fed to the lions in the Colosseum with my classmates as the spectators. Molly and Eleanor join us and block us from the view of the other students. “You know what,” Molly says. “It’s lunchtime.”

“Right,” Eleanor agrees hastily. “Let’s go eat. We’re done out here.”