Prologue

            It is a truth universally—at least, in the mind of the every rich girl at Meryton Academy—acknowledged that a woman, must be in want of a charming man. It’s also common knowledge that all the big city guys are looking for a magazine cover girl. So what’s that got to do with me? Well, I’ll tell you.

            My name is Elizabeth Bennett. I’m what you call ungifted when it comes to money and magazine cover looks but my mother is constantly telling me that I would have everything I ever wanted, if I had a rich, preferably handsome boyfriend. The attributes she conveniently forgot to mention, such as arrogance, stubborn pride, and disdain for us poor scholarship students, outweighed the money and the good looks. And yet…

            Yes the obvious “and yet.” As it turned out, I was in for a surprise during my senior year at Meryton. You see, this is my romance and even though I love all love stories, mine is my favorite by far. It all started, you see, with a dance. Yes, a good old-fashioned dance. No dates, no dresses, and certainly no boyfriends for me. But I get ahead of myself. Let me tell you my story from the beginning not the early middle. Here goes nothing...

Chapter One

I sat in the family room of my home with my best friend in the world. Luckily for me, she was also my sister. We had lived in this house since Jane was born eighteen years ago and had no intention of moving. My parents had five daughters: Jane, me, Mary, Kitty, and Lydia. It may be hard to believe but I skipped a grade so, Jane and I had been together since kindergarten. Lydia and Kitty had been the same way, only Kitty got held back. Jane and I got into the best school in town, while the rest had to go to normal high school. I know. We have a strange family. Anyway, my parents are either always working or locked in their individual studies. At the moment, my dad was in London, trying to make a smart business deal with the head of his company. My mother had no idea how to pay the bills or manage money so that was left up to me. Like I said, strange family. But I did occasionally get the chance to be a slightly normal teenager. It was not that night but soon. Oh, so soon. Friday night there was a dance. I loved to dance, but being a poor girl living in New York and going to a prep school as a scholarship student, I didn’t get asked out often.

That night was supposed to be quiet evening of homework, bills and reading. It started out that way, too. Jane was doing her calculus homework and I was reading my favorite book. There was no TV, radio or anything like that. Just my sister and me, enjoying a quiet evening. Then my youngest sister Lydia burst in.

“Lizzie! Jane!” she shouted.

            “On the couch,” I called back. Then Lydia came rushing into where we were sitting, babbling unintelligibly. Jane, who was much kinder then me, tried to make sense of what she was saying.

            “Lydia please calm down, then tell us what you have to say,” Jane said.

            “You’ll never guess what I have to tell you,” she squealed.

            “I’m not a big fan of guessing games,” I teased.

          “Fine, I’ll just tell you,” Lydia huffed. I bit back a smile. “There are three new students coming to your school. All born and raised in England. A Charles and Caroline Bingley, and a Fitzwilliam Darcy.” We obviously didn’t look very excited because she added, “They’re all very rich.”

            I snorted. “Who isn’t at this school?”

            “No,” Lydia said, “I mean, enormously rich. The Bingleys own that really fancy chain of hotels.”

            “Oh. Do you mean the towering menace down a few blocks?” I asked. “I thought the name sounded familiar.”

            “Lizzie, be nice,” Jane scolded. Just then my other sister, Kitty, flew into the room.

            “Did you hear?” she asked excitedly. Jane and I exchanged a look and started laughing.

            “What’s so funny?” Kitty asked in confusion which just made us laugh harder.

            “Nothing, Kitty,” Jane said breathlessly.

            “If you’re going to tell us about the new students, we already heard about it from Lydia,” I told her. She looked disgruntled but didn’t say anything.

            “Well, I think it’s awesome,” Lydia spoke up. “I’m in love with him.”

            “You haven’t even seen him,” I reminded her, “let alone met him. Now both of you, go bother Mary. Jane and I need to do our homework.” The two girls sulked out of the room without compliant as Jane and I stifled giggles.

            “Are we really going to do homework?” Jane asked.

            “Of course, but first let’s talk about the new students,” I answered.

            “Lizzie, you knew how much Lydia and Kitty wanted to talk.”

            “I know, but all they see is rich boys who may very well be handsome.” Jane gave me a look that made me laugh as I continued, “Well, it’s true.” Jane nodded sullenly then smiled.

            “Did you say ‘handsome, rich boys’?” This provoked more laughter.

            “With your looks you’ll get at least one if not both,” I said. Jane gave me a hard look but I pretended not to notice. “And they’ll fall in love with you, embarrassing family and all,” I continued, hugging Jane.

            “Lizzie, you’re just as pretty as me, if not more so,” Jane insisted. I just shook my head. Notice how she didn’t deny her family was embarrassing?

            “I wonder when we’ll meet them,” she said.

            “Well, there’s that dance this Friday,” I pointed out. “Maybe we’ll meet them then.”

            “You’re probably right,” Jane sighed. I smiled, hoping she couldn’t see. When she threw her pillow at me, I knew that she had. I laughed again.

            “Come on time for Calculus.” Jane groaned but we got to work. By ten-thirty all homework was done and we went to bed exhausted.

◦◦◦◦◦◦◦

            The next day at school, I ran into Charlotte Lucas, my best friend outside of Jane. Her father was the principal so she knew all the comings and goings of all the students. I ambushed her at lunch as we sat on the grass.

            “Spill it,” I ordered, seeing the sly look on her face.

            “They’re officially coming on Monday,” she told me, knowing exactly what I was talking about. We understand one another. “I’ve heard that they’re coming to the fall social thing tonight though.”

            “Perfect,” I smirked. “Maybe I can get Jane a boyfriend yet.” Charlotte rolled her eyes.

            “You’re as bad as the cheerleading squad.” I stuck my tongue out at her but didn’t comment.

            “What do you know about them?” I asked. For those of you out there who are perceptive, comment and ask are not the same thing so stop being cheeky. That’s my job.

            “Well, the Bingleys obviously own the Bingley Hotel,” Charlotte replied. “Do you know the Bourgh family?”

            “As in Bourgh Productions?” I asked. “That Bourgh family?”

            “Yes, that Bourgh family,” Charlotte said. “Well, the other guy coming with them is related to them somehow. He’s also an old family friend of the Bingleys.”

            “Fitzwilliam Darcy,” I mused. “That name does sound familiar.”

“But I mean seriously? Who names their kid ‘Fitzwilliam’?” Charlotte said.

            “The pompous, rich kind that wants to prove their child is perfect even with a horrible name,” I smiled. The bell rang and Charlotte went to math, while I went to AP English; my favorite class because of my teacher, Miss Tillman. She taught with ease and most of the students liked her. Those who didn’t, either didn’t get her cynical, witty humor, or had done something so stupid, she didn’t like them. I was, luckily, neither of those.

            “Welcome class,” she greeted us that day. “How many of you are going to the Fall Social?” We knew that random outbursts weren’t tolerated so those who were raised their hands. “Good, good,” Miss Tillman smiled. “I have set up four corners. I know that you think this is freshman worthy and you’re probably right, but it needs to be done. In corner one, those who want to be going to the dance. Corner two: those who are going but don’t want to be. Corner three: those who wish to go but can’t. Corner four: those who don’t want to be going and aren’t.”

            “What if we have no opinion about it?” one student called out.

            “Did you know that I asked the exact same question once?” she said. “My teacher refused that as an option and made me go stand in a random corner anyway. That is why there is corner number four, George. If you do not care about going, stand in corner four.”

            “Oh, I already know which one I’m going to stand at,” George said, “I was just curious as to how you would react.” Miss Tillman smiled.

            “Curiosity is a dangerous thing,” she said.

            “Is that where the saying, ‘curiosity killed the cat’ came from?” another student asked.

            “I suppose so,” Miss Tillman replied, “but there’s another part to that saying. ‘Curiosity killed the cat but satisfaction brought it back’. Are you satisfied, George?”

            “Perfectly,” he smiled.

            “Good, now everyone to your corners,” Miss Tillman ordered.

            “This sounds like the beginning of a wrestling match.” Some boys snickered in corner one. I was standing in corner two, but they were obnoxiously loud.

            “You never know what a good debate might lead to, gentlemen,” Miss Tillman said, amusement sparking in her deep blue eyes. They looked puzzled but I hid a smirk behind me hand. Once she had turned around, I heard them whisper,

            “I don’t get it.” This had me stifling a giggle and Miss Tillman looked at me with a raised eyebrow.

            “Lizzie, is there anything you would like to share with us?” she asked.

            “I was just laughing because I find it hard to believe that people don’t get your jokes,” I answered bluntly. “I think they’re quite funny but they become funnier when buffoons don’t understand the simplest witticisms.”

            “I’m happy to know that someone understands my, albeit, not so funny jokes,” Miss Tillman smiled. “And since you’re so willing to speak your mind, you can be the spokesperson for corner two.” I heard a few people muttering, “Brownnoser” but I didn’t let it bother me. I wasn’t a brownnoser; subtly and I just didn’t get along. Soon Miss Tillman was calling the class to attention again.

            “Corner one spokesperson,” she said. “Please tell us why you are going to the fall social.”

            “Because it’s going to be awesome,” the spokesperson said.

            “Not a debatable argument, disqualified,” Miss Tillman told him. “Come up with a better answer when I get to you next time. Corner Two?”

            “Well, I’m going because my older sister wants me to,” I said. “I like dancing and socializing but not as much as reading or doing other things with my time.”

            “Not as debatable as I’d like but it will do,” Miss Tillman said. “Who can debate her points?”

            “Just because your sister wants you to go, doesn’t mean you have to,” someone called out. I realized it was George Wickham. He was handsome, in a rugged sort of way. His white-blue eyes sparkled with mischief and intelligence. His light brown hair was long and swinging in his eyes.

            “Rebuttal?” Miss Tillman asked me.

            “If your best friend asked you to go somewhere because they’re shy and need you, would you go?”

            “Not if I didn’t have some other reason to go. Besides, I’m sure your sister can get along just fine without you.”

            “Or maybe she won’t,” I countered. “If she needs me, I want to be right there. I think that’s a good reason to go somewhere you don’t want to go.”

            “I surrender,” Wickham said, with a bow. “You have countered all my arguments.” I got some spattering of applause but most of these people were snotty, rich jerks who don’t like it when their “lessers” know how to argue.

            “Very well done,” Miss Tillman congratulated us both. “Corner three?” The rest of class was spent debating and laughing at Miss Tillman’s jokes. Or at least, that’s what I was doing. I can’t speak for anyone else. When the bell rang, almost everyone was rushing to get out of the room. I took my time but I eventually I had to leave. When I walked out the door, George Wickham was waiting for me.

            “Hello,” he greeted me with a smile. “I don’t think we’ve been properly introduce. My name is George Wickham, and you are?”

            “Elizabeth Bennett,” I said, and stuck out my hand, “but you can call me ‘Lizzie’.”

            “Can I escort you to your next class?” he asked.

            “Wouldn’t that make you late?” I questioned archly.

            “It’s worth it,” he replied charmingly. I laughed.

            “Very well,” I smiled. “I hope your next class isn’t too far away from the Hertfordshire Building.”

            “All the way across the campus,” he exclaimed playfully. “I think I should retract my offer. Mr. Drew would have my head if I was late to choir again. Or worse he would throw the chalk at me with deadly accuracy.”

            “A choir boy, are you?” I inquired as we walked. “I’m surprised I haven’t met you before.”

            “You’re in choir?” he asked.

            “Yeah,” I answered. “I started here on a scholarship for soccer but stayed for choir.”

            “Do you still do soccer?”

            “Yep. I usually have practice after school, but with the Fall Social, we decided to cancel it. What about you?”

            “I’m scholarship too,” he said proudly. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. We aren’t exactly majority but we’re just as good as they are.”

“I agree,” I told him with a smile. He smiled back and I was blinded by bright white teeth.

“We should sing together sometime,” he suggested. “It’s the least I could do for beating you in our little debate.”
            “You surrendered!”

            “Only because I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.” He was obviously teasing and it was actually quite refreshing. No one ever had the courage to tease me anymore. I suppose I scared them all away because I teased back.

            “A surrender is a loss no matter why you surrendered,” I told him.

            “So next time, just crush you?” he asked.

            “I’d like to see you try,” I challenged.

            “I accept your challenge, Lizzie,” George laughed. “Be prepared for heated debates whenever I see you.”

            “I look forward to it,” I said honestly. “Now go to class, before Mr. Drew throws chalk at your newly severed head.”

            “Your wish is my command,” he smiled.  “See you around, Lizzie.” He walked down the hall and I walked into the class room.

            “Who were you talking to?” Jane asked when I sat down beside her in my normal seat.

            “George Wickham,” I replied. “We had a wonderful debate in Miss Tillman’s class and then he walked me to class.”

            “That was nice of him,” Jane commented. “Is he coming to the dance?”

            I shook my head. “No. He was in corner three.”

            “What?” Jane asked in confusion,

            “You’ll see when you go to English,” I told her.

            “Okay,” she said. I loved my sister. She was so willing to accept everyone and everything without a second thought. Yeah, I was not like that. I had to argue almost everything just for the sake of argument. Then the teacher called the class to attention and our conversation was over.

Chapter Two

            After school, Jane, Mary, Kitty, Lydia, and I all piled into a Jane’s small Ford Tempo. It was tight fit but it was the only car we had. Lydia and Kitty were whispering to each other while Mary sulked in the back. I stifled a sigh. Mary needed to get some more friends. All she took pleasure in was her piano and books. It made her something of a social outcast. Hopefully, she would get better with time.

            “Jane, Lizzie,” Lydia started, “will you take us the Fall Social with you?”

            “No,” I said bluntly. “Just because Dad isn’t here doesn’t mean you can break all of his rules.”

            “If you don’t tell him, he would never know,” she grumbled. “You’re such a tattle tale, Lizzie.”

“There’s a difference between tattling and being responsible,” I told her. “If I just wanted to get you in trouble I would be a tattle tale but when you intentionally break the rules I’m obligated to tell Dad.” Man, it sounded like I was explaining this to a seven year old. Then again, it was Lydia…

“Whatever,” she muttered. I really hated being the adult here. I’d complain to Jane about it later. Our house was just a few blocks for the school, so it only took a few minutes. This was really useful when I had soccer practice and didn’t have a ride home.  My phone vibrated. It was a text from Charlotte.

I found out some more about those new kids. Charles and Caroline Bingley are staying with their older sister Mrs. Hurst in the Bingley Hotel. I smiled.

Have you been stalking them? I asked her. The reply came back quickly.

Ha ha ha. Very funny Liz. Now shut up while I tell you about the Darcy dude. He’s the nephew of Catherine Bourgh, CEO of Bourgh Productions. His parents are dead and he has one sister, who’s going to a private school in California. He also inherited a publishing company and I guess his dad owns a college. A college!  

Did you steal his file or are you actually stalking him? I inquired. Or both? Before you answer those, isn’t he only like seventeen. How’s he inherited already?

He’s eighteen and his sister is only like fourteen. And yes, I did steal his file. Your detective skills leave me in awe.

Sarcasm doesn’t suit you. What’s the college called?

Please! Sarcasm is my main form of communication. It’s the The University of Derbyshire.

Thanks. I’ll look it up. See you tonight, Lottie. I texted, shaking my head. I’m almost home and then I have to Skype my dad.

Ah, yes. Your business meeting. Hey be warned, Collins is coming tonight.

Thanks for the heads up.

Anytime Miss Liz, she replied. I smiled to myself as I walked in to my house. Nicknames are how Charlotte and I told each other we were friends. If I didn’t like you, you didn’t get a nickname and vice versa. The nicknames were constantly changing but sometimes I just couldn’t think of one. Like Jane. What is a good nickname for Jane? So far, all I’ve got is “Janie”.

“Mom, we’re home!” Lydia shouted. We all shushed her. Our mother was so tired after work, she could barely stand whispering. She rolled her eyes at us but did quiet down. I bit back a nasty remark and walked into my dad’s study. The family laptop sat on the desk. Jane and I were the only ones who knew the password and it bothered Lydia and Kitty. Then again, everything bothered them.

I quickly logged on and opened the Skype app. Every day after school, my dad and I would video chat while he was in London. Hopefully he had good news today. Those London business men really didn’t want my dad’s company to sell the product to the Japanese but they also seemed reluctant to buy the product themselves.

“Lizzie!” my father exclaimed when I opened the app. “How was your day, sweetie?”

“There were rumors of new students,” I told him.

“Rich?”

“Very,” I replied.

“Don’t tell your mother,” he joked.

“You’d think she wanted to marry me off with how she carries on,” I said.

“Well…”

“Is she trying to marry me off?” I asked.

“Not yet,” he told me. “She wants Jane to marry right out of high school and then introduce you to rich men.”

“Is she crazy?” I exclaimed. “We’re still so young. I really want to live my life and then marry.”

“Don’t worry, Lizzie,” Dad said cheerfully, “Men like silly gullible women nowadays. You and Jane will be overlooked.”

“Thanks,” I said dryly. “Now how’s the business deal going?”

“Not well,” he replied. “I’ll be here for another two to three weeks. How are you doing? I’ve been getting an earful from your mother about how you aren’t cooperating with her matchmaking.”

“Well…”

“Glad to hear it,” he said. “I need you at home, not out trying to nab a husband.”

“I shudder at the thought,” I said honestly. I heard a shouting match starting in the kitchen and I gave my father a weary smile.

“Go break up the fight,” he smiled. “I’ll be here tomorrow. I love you, Lizzie.” He kissed his fingers and held it up to the screen. I did the same.

“I love you too, Dad,” I told him.  “I promise everything’s okay here. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye,” he replied and cut the connection. I sighed but closed the computer and moved to stop the fight in the kitchen.

“Those are my shoes!” Kitty yelled. “You can’t have them!”

“They’re mine and you know it!” Lydia shouted back. “Besides, they don’t match with any of your outfits.” Jane was trying to calm them down, but they just ignored her quiet protests. They argued for a few more minutes but then I calmly stepped in and took the shoes.

“First of all, these are my shoes,” I said. “Second, you two are old enough to know that shouting will just lead to more shouting. So next time you have a problem, try making sure the shoes are actually yours before you start screaming.” Jane threw me a grateful glance and I smiled back briefly. Then I turned back to glare at Kitty and Lydia.

“Jane and I have to get ready,” I told them. “If you have a problem, go to Mary, not Mom. Got it?” They nodded and mutely walked out of the room.

◦◦◦◦◦◦◦

            “Lizzie,” Jane started on our way to the dance, “thanks for helping me with Lydia and Kitty. I don’t know how you do it.” I chuckled slightly.

            “You just have to show them who’s boss,” I said. Like with a horse, I added silently. “Usually, it works. You need to be a little louder and a lot meaner to get through to them.”

            “I’m not a mean person,” Jane mumbled.

            “I know you aren’t,” I smiled, “which is why I deal with Lydia and Kitty. It’s also why you’ll get married right out of high school and I’ll be an old spinster who will teach your nine children how to get on your nerves.” This got Jane laughing. Then we arrived. We walked into the gym, which had been decorated with everything autumn.

            “What’s that guy doing?” Jane whispered and nodded toward the punch bowl. A young man was trying to discretely pour some clear liquid into bowl. I covered my mouth to cover a laugh.

            “Jane, don’t drink the punch,” I told her with a half-smile.

            “Okay,” she said slightly confused. “Why not?”

            “Um…let’s just say that wasn’t water,” I snickered.

            “You saw it too?” a good looking guy said from behind us. “I was worried I was crazy.” He grinned easily at us, ginger hair shining in the low light. He had big blue eyes the color of the sky.

            “Not crazy,” I disagreed.  “Maybe drunk if you go anywhere near the refreshments, but not crazy.” I stuck my hand out and introduced myself. “I’m Elizabeth but my friends call me Lizzie. This is my older sister, Jane.”

            “Charles Bingley,” he smiled. “My sister and friend are around here somewhere, but while we’re waiting,” he turned to Jane, “do you want to dance?” She blushed and looked down. Wow, even before he asked about her money. I was beginning to like this guy.

            “I’d love to,” she murmured shyly. As Charles led her onto the dance floor, I smiled after them.

            “Is your diabolic plan working?” Charlotte asked as she walked up to me.

            “Perfectly,” I grinned. “Within the first two minutes, he got her dancing. He didn’t even ask whether she was a scholarship or not.”

            “Have you met the others yet?” I shook my head.

            “Are they even here?” I inquired. She gestured over to one corner of the room. A tall, shadowy guy stood in the shadows with a red-headed slender girl.

            “They look like they want to be anywhere but here,” I commented and Charlotte stifled a snicker. Suddenly, the guy looked toward us. His dark hair was curly but short. Deep brown eyes glared at us. Charlotte looked down but I smile mischievously at him. He wasn’t even that intimidating. The song ended and Charles returned with Jane. He motioned for his friend and sister to join us. As they came toward us, Charlotte smiled politely and I hid a smirk behind my hand.

            “Everyone this is my sister Caroline,” Charles said, “and my best friend, Darcy.”

            “Does Mr. Darcy have a first name?” I asked archly.

            “Not that I’d like anyone to know about,” Darcy said gruffly.

            I smirked. “Really? I had heard rumors of a Fitzwilliam Darcy coming to Meryton.” Jane subtly elbowed me but I just grinned wider when a muscle in his jaw twitched. I really shouldn’t take so much enjoyment in other people’s discomfort.

            “I’m Jane Bennett, this is my sister Lizzie, and our friend Charlotte Lucas,” Jane told them, trying to change the subject.

            “Are you related to the principal?” Caroline asked. Her voice was shrill and I wanted to wince when I heard it. I could already tell I was going to like Charles more than his sister.

            “He’s my dad,” Charlotte replied. Caroline arched a perfectly shaped—and blatantly false—eyebrow. I swear she must have penciled the heck out that thing. What ginger has black eyebrows?

            “That’s interesting,” Caroline said and turned to me. “And you? Are you a scholarship student or do you enjoy dressing in rags?” I felt an angry blush rush to my cheeks.

“Yes I am a scholarship student,” I told her proudly. “Jane and I both are: Jane for her ballet and me for soccer and choir. Is that a problem?” Caroline didn’t say anything. She just pursed her lips and engaged Jane in conversation, obviously, deeming Charlotte and me beneath her notice. I shook my head at her vanity.

            “Are you enjoying the dance?” I asked Charles who was looking mournfully at Jane. My goodness, the boy was already trapped.

            “It’s very entertaining,” he answered. “It’d be better if I was dancing. Would you like to dance, Lizzie?” I smiled and nodded. The perfect moment to hint at Jane’s single status and push him in her direction. So I’m something a matchmaker. Don’t judge! It’s in the genetics. Charles and I had a nice long talk about Jane and her ballet. I think he realized I approved of him and was eager to pump me for information. I was only too happy to oblige.

            After that song, he escorted me back to my friends, like a true gentlemen. Then he asked Jane to dance. Charlotte and I exchanged a glance and a grin. This was going better than I hoped.

“What about you, Darcy?” I asked. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

“No,” he replied bluntly. “I don’t like to dance. Or small towns.”

“You call this small?” I inquired. Meryton wasn’t exactly NYC but at least it was on the map.

“Comparatively to where I usually live,” he answered and turned away. I muttered some unladylike things under my breath. Then Charlotte abandoned me when Jeffery Hansen asked her to dance. I pushed away my irritation and waved at her as she happily followed him.

            “Hello Lizzie,” a horrible voice said from behind me. I stifled a groan. Bill Collins stood behind me. His greasy blond hair was slicked back from his zit-covered forehead. He had cloudy blue eyes that were forever squinting at something, usually me. Judging a book by its cover is bad, I know, but Collins was one of those books that didn’t exactly improve upon reading.

            “Hey Collins,” I greeted him, unenthused. Why couldn’t he just leave me alone? One date! My mom set us up on one date and now he follows me around like a lost puppy.

            “Call me Bill,” he grinned at me, making my skin crawl. Yellow teeth in a pale face. Ew. “Would you like to dance?” I had a harder time stifling a groan this time. My sense of politeness and duty made me answer “yes” through gritted teeth. Darn manner! He smiled his sickly smile again and I shuddered when he put his hand on my waist. He tried to engage me in conversation but I mutely stared over his shoulder. I ignored his gabber about some video game. How was this guy a senior? He had the intellect and hygiene of a twelve year old. The song finally ended and I couldn’t get away fast enough.

            When I got back to where I had left my friends, I noticed they were all gone. Except Fitzwilliam Darcy. I took a detour in the other direction where I could still see the spot where my friends gather but far enough away I didn’t have engage in the conversation with the guy. Suddenly, Charles showed up without Jane. I scanned the crowd and found her dancing with Charlotte in the middle of the floor. Actually, it was more jumping than actual dancing. I shook my head and started to walk over to them.

“Come on, Darce,” Charles said. “You look stupid, glowering in the corner. If you’re not careful, the girls will think you’re a vampire and then they’ll never leave you alone.

 “They don’t leave me alone anyway. Besides, I don’t want to dance, Charles,” Darcy said.

“We’ll be here for the rest of the school year, or at least I will be, and you need to make friends,” Charles said sternly. Good for you, Charlie.

Darcy snorted. “Right. That’ll put me in a better mood. Your new…friend is the only pretty girl in the room.”

“Isn’t she beautiful?” Charles practically sighed. Lizzie’s plan equals success. “But her sister, Lizzie, is really pretty too. And smart. She told me that she sings. Just your type.”

“Really Charles?” Darcy said incredulously and shook his head. “Her? I mean, sure, she’s not a hag but she’s skinny, freckled, and loud. Besides, why would I want to dance with a girl no one else wants to ask? Go back to your friend and let me sulk in peace.” Charles made a sound of frustration and walked back over to Jane.

As he walked away, I imagined beating the snot out of Darcy. Of all the pompous, arrogant, self-centered, chauvinistic…Gah! Who did this guy think he was? I don’t care who his aunt is, it doesn’t mean he’s above the rest of us. He has no right to call me skinny. It’s not like I planned on being this way. At least, not before…just before. I growled under my breath and stalked away. Sure, it was obvious that I wasn’t as pretty as Jane with her blond hair and green eyes but I wasn’t ugly either. As I thought about it further, I started laughing. It was simply ridiculous. He was just an arrogant jerk who obviously didn’t want to be here. As long as he left me alone, I was okay with him being as cold and aloof as he wanted to be.

As it turns out, I was standing right next to the spiked punch bowl. Darcy moved toward the bowl and grabbed a cup to fill it up. I fought the urge to not inform just how spiked it was.

            “I wouldn’t drink that if I were you,” I warned, duty rising above revenge.  I really was a nice person, no matter what Charlotte said. He raised a dark eyebrow in question. “It’s spiked,” I explained. “I’ve seen five people pour stuff into it. If you want to be stone-cold drunk in a matter of minutes, by all means, drink up.” Then it was my turn to walk away. I have to admit it felt pretty good.

Chapter Three           

            The night went pretty well. I avoided Darcy and hung out with Charlotte. We rated every guy that passed us on the hot scale. It was fun when some of the guys (most likely scholarships) realized what we were doing and started to pose. One even came up to us during a dance mix and gave us his number with a wink. I blushed slightly as Charlotte called out “Thanks!”

            “His rating went up to an eight,” she told me with a giggle. I rolled my eyes and nodded toward the punch bowl.

            “How many people drank out of that and got plastered unknowingly?” I said.

            “A better question is how many people drank out of that and intentionally got plastered?” Charlotte grinned teasingly. “Now back to ratings. That one over there I the corner,” she motioned toward a baby faced freshman, “what a seven on the freshman scale?”

            “Six,” I muttered. “He looks like a seven year old.”

            “I guess,” she said and eyed me slightly. “What about that one over there?” She gestured to Fitzwilliam Darcy. I snorted and recounted to her what I had overheard.

            “So a zero on the hot scale and a ten on the jerk scale,” I concluded.

            Charlotte shook her head. “No. He’s still at least a nine on the hot scale and an eleven on the jerk scale. I mean look at those puppy-dog, brown eyes.”

            “Why are all the hottest guys the jerkiest?” I complained. “I feel like the goofy guys are almost always the sweetest.”

            “Well that’s a given,” a familiar voice said from behind us. We turned to see John Lucas, Charlotte’s older brother, standing behind us. “That’s all they’ve got going for them,” he continued with a smirk. “Unless, of course, they’re rich.”

            “Is that all you think girls look for?” I raised an eyebrow playfully at him. “Looks and money?”

            “Well Mama always said,” he drawled, causing us to laugh, “girls only look for three things in guys; if they’re hot, rich, or gentlemanly.”

            “Run, Johnny, run,” I mockingly shouted. “Before I kick your butt.”

            “You’ve got to let me finish the story, Lizzie,” he scolded teasingly. “After she said that, my mom stared me straight in the face and said, ‘Johnny you ain’t that hot. You ain’t that rich, so you better be a perfect gentleman.’” I doubled over, laughing.

            “The sad thing is,” Charlotte gasped between burst of laughter, “it’s all completely true. I heard her tell him that.” This just made me laugh harder.

            “I did argue the hot point though,” John admitted with a smile. “I am most definitely an eleven on the hot scale.”

            “In what universe?” Charlotte said and glanced over at me. “Lizzie, you’re lucky Johnny here is a certified life guard. He could give you mouth to mouth if you ever stop breathing.

            “I think I need to sit down,” I gasped.

            John smiled. “There’s an entire gym floor. Sit down.”

            “Shut up,” I said.

            “What’s up guys?” Jane asked, coming up to us. Charles Bingley was trailing after her and I could barely contain a self-satisfied grinned.

            “We were just discussing my hotness on the hot scale,” John said nonchalantly. Charles and Jane laughed, drawing Darcy and his carrot top with him. I resisted the urge to walk away.

            “What do you got there, Lizzie?” Jane asked and reached for the paper in my hand. I couldn’t stop her in time. She read the name and raised an eyebrow at me. “Neil Alderson?”

            “Um, he came up during the last song and gave his number to Charlotte and me,” I told her, blushing. There was a pause then everyone except Darcy and Caroline burst into laughter. “It isn’t funny!” I protested but my mouth began to quirk up into a little smile.

            “He’s like the biggest poetry nerd I know,” John told me, after he had stopped laughing.

            “Ugh,” I groaned. “Just what I need: a romantic fool who uses poetry to kill any inclination of affection.”

            “I thought girls loved that romantic stuff,” Darcy commented with a furrowed brow. “The ‘food of love’ and all that.” I shrugged.

            “I’m not most girls,” I grinned devilishly. “I do admit that occasionally if the circumstances are just right, poetry might not be awful. But if it’s just a crush and you have one bad poem…” I let it trail off. It was a pretty self-explanatory sentence.

            “Go on,” Darcy urged and I stifled the irritated huff that was trying to break free.

            “If it’s just a crush,” I repeated, “one stupid or pointless verse would scare any self-respecting girl off.”

            “Then what would you want as a romantic token?” Darcy inquired.

            “Lavish gifts that are totally impersonal and can be given by anyone,” I replied cheerfully and stifled a smirk at his expression. “Just kidding. I’ve always been a big fan of love letters.”

            “What’s the difference between that and poetry?” Darcy exclaimed.

            I sighed. “Any fool can copy a cheesy poem off the internet. A love letter is just more personal. Who would want their lies immortalized on paper? No, love letters are my favorite. Emails are just too easy. I’d like to see someone’s hand writing and read what they wrote just then at that moment.” Darcy didn’t say anything but walked off slowly with Caroline following closely behind him. Lizzie-2 Darcy-1. Not the best score but I planned on making it much better in the future.

            “Lizzie,” Jane whispered to me while Charles danced with Charlotte, “what was that about?”

            “I have absolutely no idea, Jane,” I replied. “What I do know is that Charles Bingley seems to have found something to keep him occupied.” I smiled mischievously at her and she gently bumped my shoulder. The song ended and Charles eagerly walked back over to us.

            “I’ll tell you more at home,” Jane murmured to me.

            “You better,” I muttered through a smile. It was the last slow song and Charles was taking Jane out onto the floor. I smiled to myself. Ah, the glory of a plan gone right.

            “Let’s dance, pest,” John said with a smile.

            “Johnny, I’ll be the talk of the school if I dance with a sophomore,” I told him teasingly.

            “That’s just because I’m in college, Liz,” he smiled and grabbed my hand. “All of them will be extremely jealous.” I rolled my eyes and snorted.

            “Like anyone actually notices me in this place,” I said as we swayed in a circle.

            “Darcy seemed to be interested,” John smiled.

            “Shut up and dance, Johnny,” I replied. John’s major was going to Physics but he was an accomplished ballroom dancer. He’d taught Charlotte, Jane and I a few moves back before he was an all-important college guy.

            “It’s a waltz,” he said, cocking his head to one side. “Do you remember the steps?”

            I nodded. “Just don’t laugh when I step on your feet.” He gave me a brotherly smile and began to lead me in the steps. It’d been a long time but I soon caught on. Except when he added twirls and dips. Those had me stumbling and trying to regain my balance. I laughed and shook it off.

            “New kid is staring,” John whispered in my ear. “No don’t look,” he ordered when I moved to do just that.

            “I feel like this is the beginning of a stalker relationship,” I said lightly. Johnny smiled. The song ended and so did the dance. It was late at night and I really wanted to get home. I tried to find Jane but she was lost somewhere in the crowd. Growling under my breath, I stalked out to the car. Luckily it was a warm night even though it was September in New York. I stopped short when I saw Charles and Jane already by the car. He was handing her a piece of paper. I quickly hurried to hide. I would not ruin this moment.

            “What is he thinking?” a shrill voice broke through the night air. “She’s a scholarship student.”

            “You know how easily he falls in and out of love,” a deeper, more irritating voice replied. “He’ll be over it in a week.”

            “Her sister—Eliza, or whatever—was perfectly horrible,” Caroline, who it clearly was, said and I stifled a laugh. What would they say if they knew I was right here? “How that creature even got a scholarship here is beyond me.” So I was a creature now? I fought the urge to tell her that at least I got in on my talent and not my daddy’s money.

            “I’m sure she’s good at soccer, Caro,” her companion, obviously Darcy, said, “and choir. We’ll find out eventually. All the…creatively minded seniors put on a show at the end of the year. Plus, I have a feeling Charles will drag us to some of her games.”

            “How do you know so much about this place?” Caroline asked. I could hear the disdain in her voice. “It’s so dingy compared to the California school we were at.”

            “My father donated that building right over there,” Darcy replied. I was getting tired of this conversation so I glanced to see if Jane and Charles were done yet. When I looked, Charles lifted Jane’s hand, kissed it with a smile, and walked away. It was the most adorable thing ever! Once he was safely gone, I strode out from my hiding place, deeply satisfied with the girlish gasp I heard. Point Lizzie.

            “How was your conversation?” I asked Jane with a smile

            “I should have known you were listening,” she blushed.

            “Actually I was too busy listening to Caroline Bingley and Fitzwilliam Darcy bad mouth me,” I said lightly and took the keys from her hands. She let me slid into the driver seat without any protest. All the way home we talked about Charles and Darcy and Collins and John but mostly Charles. Whenever she said his name, her eyes lit up.

            “He gave me his number, Lizzie,” she whispered when we were almost home.

            “That’s great Jane,” I told her honestly and gave her a one armed hug. All while driving. I’m just that talented.

            “I don’t what to do with it,” she admitted.

            “Don’t know…” I repeated. “Jane, you immediately put that boy’s number in your phone and on your memory card so you’ll never lose it. Then you text him. Not tonight but tomorrow and pretend to welcome him to school.”

            “I wouldn’t be pretending,” she murmured and fiddled with the piece of paper in her hand.

            “I know, Jane,” I smiled. “But is that really why you want to text him? To welcome him to school?”

            “No,” she admitted with a shy smile. “Lizzie, he’s so nice. He may be rich but he has a job at the hotel and he’s really sensitive.  He listens to me about my ballet and he skis.”

            “He skis,” I repeated with a gasp. “Well, you’ve officially found him. He’s your soul mate.”

            “You try to make me angry, don’t you?” she asked with a smile as we pulled into our driveway. “I’m just glad he’s not blonde. If he was, you’d always tell him the cheesy blonde jokes.” We walked up the drive and quietly opened to door.

            “I have nothing against blondes,” I said, going toward my room. “Some blondes are pretty smart, like my wonderful sister. The really stupid ones are the ones who dye their hair blonde. I feel like there’s a better way to let your true colors shine through. Although, I might be tempted to tell him gingers don’t have souls.” Jane laughed softly and sat on my bed.

            “What about you, Lizzie?” she asked. “When will you get yourself a man?”

            “Whenever the right one shows up,” I announced. “I will not settle for anything less than love. Now shoo. I have to wake up early tomorrow.”

            “Goodnight, Lizzie” Jane laughed.

            “Goodnight, Jane,” I said. “In place of Dad, I will inform you of the no texting after ten o’clock rule.”

            “Since when do you follow that rule?” Jane asked.

            “Did I say enforce?” I countered.  “Do what you like but I can now have a clear conscience.”

            “Whatever,” Jane rolled her eyes and danced lightly out of the room. Smiling, I pulled on my pajamas. I was asleep before my head hit the pillow.