Kit chased after the headmistress.

“I’m sorry!” she said, trotting alongside her because the woman was walking down the hallway with the briskness of a tornado. “What did I say? Lady Covington, I don’t understand!” All Kit had done was ask if she had ever heard of the town Kit’s mom was from.

The headmistress stopped abruptly. “I have no idea where Westingate is! I am not an encyclopedia, nor am I your homework buddy! If the information isn’t available, perhaps it was never intended to be found!”

Whoa, what was going on here? Lady Covington was so riled up that Kit automatically got riled up, too. “But my mom wouldn’t have lied! So why would she say she’s from a place that’s not real?”

“How would I possibly know the answer to that?” The headmistress calmed down. “Just drop it, Katherine. Go to bed.”

Kit had thought the corridor was empty, but a cheery voice called out in a cockney accent, “Hello, there! Hi!”

Lady Covington immediately transformed into the official headmistress. “May I help you?” she asked, her voice fuller and more confident than before.

A woman, maybe twenty-five years old, walked up to them. She was definitely a character, wearing a blouse with big cascading ruffles in front, six-inch pencil-heeled boots, and an adorable knitted cat-ear beanie. “Daisy Rooney,” she said, holding out a hand. “From Dish Quarterly?”

“Oh!” Lady Covington responded. “We weren’t expecting you until morning. How delightful!” She shook Daisy’s hand.

“Soz to just pop in on you,” said Daisy. “I wanted to poke around a bit, you know, have a peek?” She turned to Kit. “Could you manage a quick tour?”

“That won’t be possible,” said Lady Covington. “She was just on her way to the dorms. Curfew.”

Kit liked this crazy Daisy person. She was definitely a fellow mischief maker. “We could walk together,” she offered, shaking hands with the reporter. “I’m Kit.”

“That won’t be necessary, Miss Rooney. I would be delighted to give you a tour and to share with you some of our famous Covington hospitality. Come along.” The headmistress began to lead the way down the corridor.

Kit liked the reporter even more when she dropped back to say, “We’ll catch up tomorrow, yeah? I totally know about getting a dress-down by a teacher. I was an expert at it.” She winked. “Still am!”

“Me too!” said Kit. “We’ll compare notes.”

With a nod of agreement, Daisy hastened after Lady Covington.

Josh felt trapped. Here he sat in a little green tent (underneath a huge white tent, of all things), smashed between a sulky Nav and a grumpy Will. “Dudes, this tent is too small for all your bad vibes.”

Nav ignored him and spoke directly to Will. “I can’t believe you set me up to lose. To Josh!”

“You were being such a jerk about the fact that I couldn’t ride, I had to make the impossible happen.”

Josh threw his hands in the air. “Can you stop talking like you’re both so surprised that I could win?”

“I’m not surprised,” Nav told him. “I’m just . . . annoyed. I don’t like to lose.”

Will nodded. “Neither do I.”

Josh wanted to say, “So who does?” but he knew that would only fan the flames. He preferred to try to smooth things over between his buds. “It’s the worst, yeah. But,” he said with pride, “when you think about it, none of us are losers compared to Rose Cottage. We totally kicked their butts!”

“We’re clearly a superior team,” Nav agreed.

“Except Kit and Anya,” Josh thoughtfully continued. “They’re all right. If they were here, we could be roasting s’mores!”

Silence.

Ohhhhhh. All this time, Josh thought the big problem was Nav’s lousy cup ride because of Will, but there was something more going on here. Josh detected the spark of girl trouble in the air. “Look, dudes, the doctor is in, and Dr. Josh kind of feels like you guys are still fighting about Kit even when you’re not fighting about Kit. You know?”

Nav responded with surprising sincerity. “I think it’s noble to have feelings for a girl. But perhaps it’s even more noble to have a teammate.” He looked at Will. “And a friend.”

“Yeah, well.” Will fidgeted. “The gentleman might be right. Maybe it’s time we called a bit of a truce?” He held out his hand.

Nav took it, and they shook.

Josh felt like he was some kind of official at a formal ceremony. “So is the Will-Nav bromance back on?” he inquired, brows raised.

Will snorted. “Yeah, but only if we find another name for it.”

“Yes, let us. How about the Nav-Will”— Nav struggled to find a different word but failed — “bromance?”

“Awesome. Let’s celebrate!” Josh squirmed back enough to reach his pack and whipped out — what else? — the Covington House Cup. “A little more Elaine torture?”

They all laughed as they positioned themselves for yet another photo with the cup. Josh pulled out his mobile. “This one’s for the books, boys!” They posed as Josh held out the cup in one hand and his phone in the other.

Click!

Nav’s photo smile faded. “I say, chaps, are we actually going to sleep on the ground?”

The dining hall buzzed with chatter the next morning at breakfast. Everybody had heard that a reporter had arrived at Covington. Some students didn’t know who it was yet, but Kit had told her friends. The information was crackling through the student population like a lightning bolt.

“Daisy Rooney?” Josh confirmed.

Kit nodded, but her thoughts were far away as she listened to all the buzz.

Josh, on the other hand, seemed excited. “She interviewed the Mud Slingers on their way back to London, on their tour bus! She’s an awesome writer.”

“I heard that she camped out all night just to get that interview,” said Anya.

“And then the Foxborough Five flew her to California so she could write about their gig at the Bowl!”

Elaine happened to be walking by. “Ms. Rooney is not here to interview us because we’re rock stars,” she primly informed Josh as she passed.

“Speak for yourself, Elaine,” he sniped.

Anya laughed. Then, looking at Kit, she asked, “Are you okay?”

Kit realized she’d been half zoned out. “Oh! Yeah. Totally. Just thinking.”

At the head table, Lady Covington tapped her spoon against a glass and stood. “May I have your attention, please?”

The room quieted.

“As some of you have heard, a reporter will be joining us for a few days to do an article on Covington. Your best behavior is expected.”

Kit wasn’t surprised to see Elaine’s hand shoot up. No matter what happened at the school, Elaine always tried to turn the attention to herself. “I’ve been preparing for the interview,” she stated proudly. “I have information on Covington’s history, the early years, the underdog victory of 1987 —”

“Let us focus on the present, Elaine,” Lady Covington suggested. “I would like us to share the word with potential students about what makes Covington exceptional today.” She leaned forward a bit, and asked the students, “And what is our collective goal for this year?”

Everyone in the dining hall chorused, “U.K. Boarding School of the Year!” like small children in class. Kit and Anya practically sang it out, grinning at each other.

As if she’d heard Kit’s thoughts, Lady Covington said, “Such good children. Sometimes, I believe we may actually attain that goal.”

If we don’t, poor Lady C will pop a gasket, Kit thought.

“Today we will hear your presentations,” Sally told her English class.

Kit sat forward in her chair, trying to appear awake and interested. This was her first class after breakfast today, which meant that she had a big sausage, baked beans, toast with jam, fruit, and orange juice roiling around in her tummy trying to digest. Digestion always made her sleepy. She wouldn’t have minded a cup of strong tea to counter it, and that made her think, Wait, I used to like coffee more than tea! OMG, I’ve gone native!

Sally was still talking. “I’m very excited to hear about all the fun things you’ve learned by diving into your family history. So!” She looked from student to student. “Who would like to begin?”

Elaine’s hand shot into the air. Kit imagined that it made a whiplike crack sound, it moved so fast. And of course, nobody else volunteered. Kit considered it, but there was no way she would ace her extremely cool presentation with her eyelids drooping.

Sally gave up on anyone else and gestured at Elaine. “All right, Elaine. It looks as though you’re our girl.”

Shining that superior smile of hers, Elaine took her place at the front of the class. She picked up a remote control that operated the class SMART Board, declaring, “My granddad had six sisters, of which I’ve chosen to profile my great-aunt Dottie.” She clicked the remote, and the screen showed a photo of a wealthy elderly woman wrapped in an elaborate fur coat. Elaine had placed three bullet points of information next to the photo:

•  One of seven children

•  Left home at sixteen

•  Became a dress designer

“She was a dressmaker of some renown —” she continued, but was interrupted when the door burst open and Daisy Rooney sailed in.

“Hi, everyone! I’m Daisy. I’m sorry I’m late. I got carried away in the dining hall. I maybe ate a thousand pastries! Is that bad?” She winked at the class.

Kit grinned, delighted to see the flashy reporter again. Daisy wore another very un-Covington-ish outfit: a black belted minidress, over-the-knee black boots (with super-high heels again, Kit noted — Daisy was rather short), and a fuzzy peach sweater. She had black nail polish on and a notebook in one hand, and she was waving her empty one around as she kept talking. “I’m sooo psyched to be here! I love your place. Bit like a castle, innit?”

“That’s what I said when I got here!” Kit burst out. She found Daisy’s kooky energy irresistible. So much for sleepy digestion! she thought, feeling totally energized again.

“Oh hey, it’s Kit!” Daisy said with a wave. “Yay!”

Sally, smiling tightly, hadn’t spoken so far, and Daisy suddenly seemed to realize this. She pointed to the back of the room and told Sally, “I’ll sneak into the back,” as if sneaking was possible after such a rowdy entrance.

Elaine cut her off. “Miss Rooney, I love your work. I stayed up all night getting acquainted. I’m a huge fan!”

Kit rolled her eyes. Elaine was every bit the champion that she believed she was — when it came to fawning over famous people in order to get herself noticed. If she ever meets the queen, she’ll probably freak so hard, she’ll turn into a puddle of goo, Kit thought.

Daisy, however, ate it up. “Why, thank you!” she told Elaine. Then to the still-silent and rather stunned Sally, she said, “Pretend I’m not here.”

Like that’s possible, Kit thought in amusement.

“Really,” Daisy stressed. “I just want to sink into the background and observe!”

Sally finally spoke up, looking a bit annoyed. She was, after all, the teacher. “Thank you. There’s a seat —”

“I’ll conduct one-on-one interviews over the next couple of days,” Daisy went on, talking right over Sally, “and we’ll see how it all shakes out!”

Kit watched Daisy pick her way down a row of chairs and then, “Oh!” Daisy squealed. She must have tripped, and she accidentally fell right into handsome Will’s lap. “Soz!” she said, blushing. “I am such a pain, aren’t I?”

Elaine picked up her report. “So,” she began, “Great-Aunt Dottie’s gowns have been seen in society for decades, up to and including the royal court. Many have walked the red carpet —”

Another knock at the door and another interruption, this time by a student who handed Sally a message.

“Should I just hold?” Elaine asked. “Should I start from the top?”

Sally was reading the message. “Will,” she said, “Lady Covington would like to see you in her office.”

Will grabbed his backpack, and as he went past her, Kit saw the look of complete mystery on his face. Whatever Lady Covington wanted, it was a surprise to Will.

When Will entered the headmistress’s office, the last person he expected to see was seated by the desk: his father. Rudy was present as well. Dreading the next ten minutes, Will took the seat next to his father and waited.

“Mr. Palmerston,” began Lady Covington.

“Yes, ma’am?” said Will’s father.

Showing only the slightest trace of amusement, Lady Covington told the older man, “I was speaking to your son.”

If it had been anybody else’s father, Will would have laughed like crazy at the mistake. He loved when adults messed up their dignified conversations. But as it was, he didn’t even smile. He felt like crawling away. . . .

“Mr. Palmerston-the-younger,” Lady Covington began again, “you have managed to fall behind in every single subject.”

“He’s got an A in Equestrian,” Rudy interjected.

Will thought it was extremely kind of Rudy to say so, but he knew it wouldn’t make any difference. If this meeting was about his grades and his dad was present, Will knew he was doomed.

“Without academic excellence —”

“We will do whatever it takes to compensate for Will’s academic weaknesses,” Mr. Palmerston-the-elder cut in.

“Will’s not a bad kid,” Rudy added. “And he’s our best rider.”

Lady Covington said sharply, “Mr. Bridges, you are here as William’s adviser. I will ask you if your advice is required.”

Will was good at holding in anger. Otherwise he would have stood up for his teacher. Rudy was the only adult in a hundred-mile radius who had ever stood up for him. But again, he did nothing — except inwardly shudder as his father spoke once more. Will hated the way his father spoke, always using that snobby tone designed to make his listeners feel inferior, always pushing his own desires like nobody else mattered.

“There must be a solution,” Mr. Palmerston insisted. “This is the best place for him.”

Lady Covington nodded but said, “There have also been incidents where Will’s behavior has been less than exemplary.”

“We have to get this sorted. I can’t have him at home. I just can’t.” Mr. Palmerston glanced at Will. “Not now.”

Will didn’t want to meet his father’s eyes, but he couldn’t stop himself. It was like leaning far over a cliff, knowing he would fall but doing it anyway. His father didn’t want him, his mother didn’t want him, and now Covington didn’t want him. When that was reality, what was the point of anything?

His father eyes seemed dead. There was no warmth in his expression, none at all. “You don’t want to live with the baby,” the man said. “And Tanya’s expecting another. We told you that you couldn’t muck everything up again, not here. Do you know how much it cost me the last time you pulled this nonsense?”

Lady Covington did not speak right away. Will saw her exchange a glance with Rudy, and then she straightened some papers, thinking. “A letter of probation will be issued immediately,” she finally said. “William may stay through the term exams, but we will need to see a substantial improvement, or we will have to expel him.”

Will sat like a statue, waiting for someone to tell him he could leave. Stay, leave, jump up and down and scream — what did it all matter, anyway?