Once Upon a Princess Read online

  I take out a notebook. I’m going to research the coup in Colsteinburg for my paper. Maybe that way I’ll be able to figure out how to fix everything.

  There isn’t much more information than Georgie and I found the other day. Francisco Orcutt wants a modern government and thinks the monarchy is a relic of the middle ages. He thinks it’s time for an elected head of state, and he, naturally, wants to be that head.

  A group of royalists led by Ivan Frank, who drove us to the airport in the beat-up Honda, are making the case for keeping things the way they’ve been.

  Heated debate fills the comboxes and, judging by the pictures, has spilled over into the streets.

  I see no official word from Pap. Shouldn’t he be out there showing why we still need a monarchy? What if something has happened to him? What if that’s the reason he’s not saying anything? I take out my phone and send him a text.

  Are you okay? I love you.

  I don’t know if he’ll get it, but if he does, at least he’ll know we’re thinking about him.

  Since there don’t seem to be too many details on what’s going on in Colsteinburg, I look up other coups and insurrections, to try to get a sense of how things played out. Things seldom end peacefully, which is something I’d prefer not to think about.

  The bell rings. I have two more classes, science and cooking. I look for Bethany to show me the way, since she did say we had all our classes together, but she’s already walking out of the library. I gather my books and ask Mrs. Howe how to get to the science classroom.

  Jasmine is not enthroned in the back row of this class. She’s not here at all. That will make it less stressful, I’m sure, but also probably a little boring.

  There’s a seat open next to Bethany, and I head to it.

  “Is it okay if I sit here?” I ask.

  “Suit yourself,” Bethany says.

  Great. I’ve totally alienated her just because I didn’t want to talk about those pictures. She’s the only one who’s been nice to me here, and I want to make it up to her somehow. I sit down and lean close to her.

  “That was a picture of me,” I say, “but please don’t tell anyone.”

  “Why?” she asks. “What’s the big secret?”

  Do people here really not have any idea what is going on back home?

  “It’s just … I really can’t explain,” I finish lamely. Maybe she didn’t realize it was a picture of the royal family, in which case she won’t be likely to give me away, but how can I explain why things need to be kept quiet without revealing myself? This is all too hard. I just want to be myself.

  “When was the picture taken?” she asks.

  “Last Saturday,” I say. Doesn’t seem to be any harm in admitting that.

  “Where are you from, really?” she asks.

  That I can’t answer.

  Luckily, the teacher starts class, and I have a perfectly good excuse for not saying anything.

  Bethany seems to have forgiven me because she shows me to the last class of the day: cooking, where we learn to boil water and cook pasta. Skills I don’t have and which, unfortunately, might prove useful one of these days.

  All in all, it’s a pretty good school day, and after I stash the books I don’t need in my locker, securing it with my new lock, I go outside and see Georgie there waiting to walk me home.

  “How’d it go today?” she asks.

  “Not bad,” I say. “Where’s Henri?”

  “Home with Mam. I convinced him it was safe enough for me to come for you on my own. I needed to get out.”

  Poor Georgie. Life has to be really boring for her here. She graduated from Academie Sainte Marie in the spring. Her days lately have been busy with social engagements, since she was already beginning to fulfill her duties as next in line for the throne. Doing nothing must be driving her crazy.

  “Have you heard anything from Pap?”

  “He called Mam,” Georgie says.

  He called! That means he is alive and well. He’ll get my text message and know we miss him. But he called, and I wasn’t there to talk to him.

  “I missed it! If you didn’t make me go to school, I would have been there.” I stamp my foot. It isn’t fair.

  Georgie puts a hand on my arm. “I didn’t talk to him either. He only talked to Mam for a couple of minutes. It was all he could manage.”

  Oh. I still wish I’d been there.

  “What did he say?”

  “All I know,” Georgie says, “is that things are difficult right now.”

  “Is he going to send the military after them?”

  “After who?”

  “The protesters. Isn’t that what they did in Egypt and some other places?” My research this afternoon taught me a thing or two.

  “And if you recall, that didn’t work out so well in those places. In most of those cases, the person in office was overthrown.”

  “Oh.” True, that was what my research showed me. “Then how do we stop them? How does Pap take control again? Can’t he put them in jail or something?”

  “I don’t know,” Georgie admits. “I don’t think it’s as simple as that.”

  “What if we went back there, you and me, and talked to the people? Maybe we could get them to see reason. They like us. Especially you. People would listen to you.”

  Georgie’s lips turn up in a sad half smile. “I don’t know. Maybe they don’t like us as much as we thought.” She pulls out her phone and shows me an article that has a picture of the two of us in our finery at the ball and a picture of some children living in squalor. The caption is “Royal family squandered money while children suffered.”

  “But,” I sputter. “That’s not fair. We don’t have such poverty in Colsteinburg.”

  “Shh,” Georgie warns.

  We stop at the corner, and a crowd gathers around, all waiting for the light to change. Once we are safely across the street, and a reasonable distance from anyone else, Georgie continues.

  “It’s not about what’s fair. The point is, we may not be as popular as we thought we were. I’m not sure going back there would be smart. Or safe,” she adds as an afterthought.

  But I can picture it. I’d wear my school uniform so I look appropriately young and innocent. I’d stand out on the balcony that Pap uses to make his public appearances. I’d tell the crowd that they are wrong, that Pap is a good king. I’d make them understand that he is doing all he can for people. It isn’t like he can solve all the problems in the world. Mr. Orcutt isn’t going to be able to solve all the problems either. No one can. So why change when things are really working rather well? We are a peaceful country, left to ourselves, uninvolved in wars. Maybe the economy isn’t as strong as it could be, but if we all work together we can solve that.

  It might work.

  “Listen,” Georgie says as we walk up the three steps to the front door of our borrowed home. “Mam doesn’t like to talk about any of this. Better just not to bring it up, okay?”

  I nod. I’m not happy about it, and I don’t understand why Mam is acting this way, but I can do my part not to make things worse.

  Mam is sitting on the sofa in jeans and a T-shirt, watching TV, when we go in. “Hi, Mam,” I say. She looks up briefly, as if to see who spoke to her, and switches her attention back to the TV. This is not the Mam I know and love. It scares me.

  Henri is in the kitchen, an apron wrapped around his waist, cutting up vegetables. I almost laugh, but he is holding a knife, so I manage to control myself.

  “Are you a chef, Henri?” I ask.

  “I have many hidden talents, Your Royal Highness,” he answers.

  Georgie opens the refrigerator and grabs two sodas, handing one to me. We sit at the little kitchen table.

  “We need to get Mam home,” I say, popping open the soda. “She’s like a mermaid without water. A queen without her kingdom. She can’t survive.”

  “Her Majesty must stay here, where it’s safe,” Henri says.

  “You co
uld keep us safe back home, Henri. We trust you,” I say.

  Henri gives a nod in acknowledgment and says, “I appreciate your trust in me, but the situation is such that I don’t know that to be true.”

  “Henri is right,” Georgie says. “You heard the crowd that night.”

  “Then why can’t we tell anyone where we are? The mob is in Colsteinburg, not here.”

  Georgie sighs, and I can tell she’s trying to decide if she should tell me something or not. She looks at Henri, who answers for her.

  “His Majesty wants to make sure that no one can use you in their attempt to take over the country.”

  “Use us?” I ask. “Like make us do a TV commercial for the other side or something?”

  “Threaten to hurt us so Pap does what they want,” Georgie explains bluntly. “Kidnap us.”

  Oh.

  Maybe it is better to stay here and safe.

  “So just let Pap do what he needs to do. He needs to know we’re all safe here. Okay?”

  I nod, a lump in my throat. I don’t want Pap to have to worry about us as well as everything else.

  12

  The weekend passes uneventfully, which I guess is good. At least I have some homework to keep me occupied. I never thought I’d think homework was a good thing—this is the level we’ve been brought down to.

  Monday morning, Georgie puts a bologna sandwich and a bottle of water in a brown paper bag for me.

  “Can’t I have a different kind of sandwich?” I ask.

  Georgie leans against the counter, arms crossed. She looks tired. “It’s what we’ve got. I’ll see if Henri can take me to the store later and get something else. But for right now, just deal with it, okay?”

  “I wish we were home,” I say.

  “I do too,” Georgie admits.

  The defeated way she says it doesn’t make me feel much better.

  I finish my cereal and put the bowl in the dishwasher. Henri is in the doorway, ready to escort me to school.

  School. The last place I feel like being today.

  “You better get going,” Georgie says. “I’ll see you later.”

  I’m so preoccupied with thinking of ways I can help Pap save the kingdom that in Spanish class, I answer all the questions in French, which amuses Jasmine to no end but annoys Señora Sanchez.

  At lunchtime, I’m not in the mood for a battle of wills with Jasmine, so I sit with Bethany and her friends.

  “So, the princess has decided to grace us with her presence?” Miles asks, a touch of a sneer in his voice.

  “What?” I nearly drop my lunch. How did they find out? Did Bethany go looking for that picture and figure out who we really are?

  “He just means since you’ve been sitting with Jasmine and company, he figured you were too good to sit with us,” Bethany clarifies.

  “Oh.” I sit down, willing my heartbeat to return to normal.

  “Why aren’t you sitting with the A Team today?” Kim asks. “Didn’t they want you?”

  What have I done to earn this animosity from people I thought liked me?

  “I thought it would be nice to sit with people who might actually talk to me. But I can go someplace else if that’s a problem.”

  “You won’t let Jasmine scare you off, but you’ll let Kim chase you away? No one is afraid of Kim,” Miles says, opening a bag of chips.

  “It’s true,” Kim says. “No one is afraid of me. People usually don’t even apologize if they bump into me. I think sometimes they don’t even see me.”

  I have never felt invisible. People always knew who I was and where I was and were quick to pay attention to me when I entered the room. After all, I am Princess Fredericka, and something like that gets you noticed. But now, people don’t know me, don’t care who I am or what I am doing. I have more in common with Kim than I would have thought possible.

  I pull out my bologna sandwich and sigh. I want the lunches that our cook prepared, with hot soup and fresh bread. Even the lunches in the dining hall at Sainte Marie’s were much more exciting than my bologna on white bread. If we have to stay in exile for long, I might starve.

  “You finally saw the error of your ways?” Jasmine stands over me, an evil little smile on her face. “Went to the loser table, where you belong?”

  “No, I simply decided I didn’t want to sit with you anymore. You bore me.” I go back to my even more boring sandwich, pretending I am super interested in it.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Jasmine turning red and spluttering. “I bore you!” She can barely get the words out. “You’re like the queen of boring.”

  My back stiffens at that, but I say nothing.

  “And you don’t even have a good lunch. How disgusting. What is that? Some weird meat on white bread?”

  I frown. While I totally agree with her, I can’t let her know that.

  “Surely you’ve heard of bologna, haven’t you? It’s a royal meat first instituted by the Duke of Bologna in the Middle Ages. It’s been a staple of the Italian royal family ever since then.” I am totally making all that up.

  “Well,” she says, suddenly a little unsure of herself. “It still looks disgusting.”

  “Ja, a little,” I admit. “But a girl’s got to eat.”

  Jasmine doesn’t respond to that but heads to her favored table. Tomorrow, I’ll probably sit there again, just to mess with her.

  Kim, Miles, and Bethany are all staring at me.

  “What?” Do I have ketchup on my chin or something?

  “How did you do that?” Kim asks, her eyes wide.

  “What?”

  “Leave Jasmine speechless. No one does that.” Awe is apparent in her voice.

  “And that bit about bologna, that was pure baloney,” Miles says.

  “Ja, I know.”

  “It’s not from Italy,” Miles continues. “It’s as American as you or I.”

  “Actually, it is from Italy,” I say, “and I’m—” I stop myself. It’s better if they think I’m American. That is one way of hiding our true identities, right? “Anyway, I bet she’ll want bologna now, so she can be like Italian royalty.”

  “Well, like I told you, she already thinks she’s a princess,” Bethany says.

  Jasmine and I have that much in common anyway. I concentrate on my sandwich, and soon lunch is over.

  In English class, we go back to the media center again to work on our projects. Bethany sits next to me, and I try not to show that I’d rather be alone. Alienating my only friend is not a good plan.

  My heart aches as I look up information about my country. Every picture I see, every comment I read, reminds me that I am a world away and helpless to do anything.

  I should have chosen another topic for my research paper. Something that wouldn’t make my stomach hurt when I researched it. Something like Koalas Are the Cutest Animals or Why Does Soda Taste So Good.

  Across the room, Jasmine and her friends break into giggles. I look, sure they are laughing at me. It seems to be the way Jasmine operates. But I can see Jasmine’s computer screen, and it appears they are watching videos. They aren’t laughing at me after all.

  “They’re going to get in trouble,” Bethany whispers to me. “They are supposed to be doing research, not watching videos.”

  I don’t really care if they get in trouble. In fact, I would rather enjoy it, but a thought is beginning to form in my head. I need to get the word out that the royal family is alive and well and that we intend to stay the royal family. I can’t go back to Colsteinburg to tell people in person. I was able to be convincing about bologna, and that wasn’t even true. How much more convincing could I be for something that I really care about?

  Everyone is afraid that the opposition will try to use us to help them. Why not beat them to it? I will make a video convincing the people of Colsteinburg not to follow Orcutt.

  The solution is so simple; why didn’t I think of it before?

  I can’t wait for the school day to end so I can
go back to the condo and put my plan into action. Finally, there is something I can do to help Pap.

  When the last bell finally rings and I go outside, it’s not Georgie waiting for me, but Henri.

  “Is that your father?” Bethany asks. I didn’t even realize she was at my elbow until she spoke.

  “No,” I say.

  “Stepfather?” she persists.

  “Um, no.” There is really no good way to explain who Henri is without giving away who we are. I wish Bethany wouldn’t ask so many questions.

  “But he is here to pick you up, right? I mean, he’s waving to you.”

  “Yes, he’s here for me,” I say.

  “It’s not like you’re meeting some stranger off the internet or anything, are you?” Bethany asks. “That can be really dangerous.”

  “He’s not a stranger.” I sigh. How easy it would be just to say he’s in charge of my mother, the queen’s, security. But I’m not supposed to tell anyone who we are. “It’s fine. I have to go.”

  “I hope you don’t mind walking,” Henri says. “It’s a beautiful day. I thought the exercise would be good.”

  “Yeah, whatever.” I don’t care if we walk or drive a car or ride camels. I only want to know one thing. “Where’s Georgie?”

  “She did not feel up to going out in public this afternoon.”

  That’s not like Georgie. “What happened?” Did the stress finally get to her? Is she going to get lost inside herself like Mam? What will I do?

  “Something to do with Prince Etienne, I believe,” Henri says, his voice low so as to not be overheard.

  “You have to tell me,” I insist. He does, once we are closer to the townhouse and away from curious ears.

  “Princess Georgiana saw a picture of Etienne with a French model. The caption said that he had moved on.”

  Poor Georgie! I practically run the rest of the way home so I can get to her and comfort her.

  I find her in our bedroom, lying on her back, staring at the ceiling.

  “Henri told me,” I say. “I’m sure it’s just a big misunderstanding.” I sit on the edge of the bed. “Have you contacted him?”

  “How can I contact him when we’re not supposed to let anyone know where we are?”