Read Online The Summer Prince by Alaya Dawn Johnson - Free Book Online Page A

is our top gossip caster, the kind of feed-hound who is a celebrity in his own right.
    “Gil …”
    His smile falls away. “June, sometimes you have to step out.”
    “I don’t want to be … not that girl.”
    Not the one left behind on the dance floor. The one whose stupid, half-formed dreams of the summer king broke in full view of a million people. Gil can see what I mean, and he still hasn’t really explained what happened that night, so we leave it. He’s happy and high as a comet. I won’t be the one to bring him down.
    “I’ll just have to see what the giant wants. If I’m not back in an hour, look for my body.”
    Gil bites his lip a little — a disarming gesture from before he became Tier Eight’s resident sex god. I smile at him, run my fingers through his thick, kinky hair, and leave before I can do anything stupid like cry or beg him to come with me.
    Even if she somehow knows everything, I don’t care. The mural that the mushi bots have by now succeeded in scrubbing out of existence was one of the triumphs of my admittedly short career. Enki saluted me on camera. Gil could barely speak when we first saw each other.
    My lights are warm and I watch their faint glow reflected along the opaque glass walls of Principal Ieyascu’s waiting room.
    “Will you please turn those down, June?”
    I whirl around and look up, surprised to see Principal Ieyascu with her arms crossed and her expression — as usual — forbidding. She’s a grande’s grande, and has been principal at this school long enough to know Auntie Yaha from her waka days. She’s also giant, nearly seven feet tall, and hates sitting down.
    “Turn … what?” I say, suddenly too nervous to do more than gape.
    She rolls her eyes and takes a few clicking steps toward me. “Those body modifications under your skin, June. The ones that are certainly against school policy and quite possibly violate the Queen’s edicts against technological self-modification, should I choose to press the issue.”
    I swallow and take a deep breath, which brings the lights down to a subtle glow. I should be able to control the brightness at will, but I haven’t practiced enough to be good at it.
    “It will have to do,” Principal Ieyascu says. “Now, shall we go inside my office?”
    She presses a hand to the dark glass wall, which pulls apart smoothly at her touch. Her actual office is only slightly less chilly. There’s a single glass table, clear of everything except a twenty-first-century fountain pen I know must be worth at least a million reals. The chair behind the desk I think might be made of actual dead-cow-skin leather. For her guests, there are two seats of molded glass. They look uncomfortable, and there’s only one free.
    The other girl has a thick puff of dark honey hair she swears is natural but we all know must be modded. She’s fidgeting in the glass chair, but smiles at me when I sit next to her.
    I force myself to smile back, since it wouldn’t do for Principal Ieyascu to see me be petty. At least I know that if Bebel the Perfect is here, then my graffiti exploits are probably still a secret.
    “So why are we here?” I ask, craning my head to look up at Ieyascu, who has of course chosen to pace before her glass wall instead of sitting down like a normal non-giant.
    “If you don’t rediscover your manners, June, you might find yourself back in class.” She pauses and looks between the two of us. “And I think you would regret that very much.”
    Regret not being in the principal’s office? That’s strange, even for Ieyascu, so I bob my head and mutter a dutiful apology. Bebel dips her honey bush too, though we both know she didn’t do anything to warrant an apology. I grit my teeth. That’s Bebel all over — always careful to be considerate when someone important is watching.
    “Well, good. As I’m sure you are wondering — even though you were far more discreet about it, Bebel — there is a reason why I’ve called