Royal Crown

by Meg Cabot

  I was so relieved at the idea of anyone being able to stop the crying, I said, “That’s great.”

  “Okay,” Luisa said. “But you know what’s going to happen … they’re going to want to invite Prince Gunther, since he’s in town with his parents for the coronation, and the three of them have been hanging out nonstop with Princess Komiko and Nadia. Is it going to be all right if all of them come over?”

  “Are you kidding?” Nishi cried. “It’d be great! I mean, the more help we can get, the easier this will be, right?”

  Grandmère looked pleased. “Spoken like a true businesswoman.”

  I didn’t think it was so great, though. “Wait a minute,” I said. “What exactly is going on? That’s a lot of people. I don’t know if we should really be having that many people here when we’re supposed to be looking after—”

  “Oh, look!” Luisa squealed. “The duke just texted! He’s wondering what I’m up to.”

  Nishi clapped. “Yay! He can come over, too.”

  Luisa choked. “The duke? Help babysit? No way!”

  “Why not?” Nishi asked, looking genuinely curious.

  “Well, because … because…” Luisa seemed to be having trouble finding her words. “Roger wants me to come over and play tennis at his house. None of you will mind if I do, will you? Not now that you have so many other people coming to help.”

  Now I understood what Luisa had been up to, inviting everyone over. It was so that she could go to the duke’s house without feeling guilty.

  “What I understand,” Grandmère said coldly, “is that you made a commitment to this business and to your friends, and you will honor it.”

  Luisa looked horrified. “What? No I didn’t.”

  “Pardon me,” Grandmère said. “But yes you did. When one agrees to take part in a business, one agrees to stick it out through the good times and the bad. That means one cannot flit off to play tennis with the Duke of Marborough just because one of the babies won’t stop crying and another has a very stinky diaper.” She pointed at Baby Princess Elizabeth and made a face. “That shows a lack of both character and work ethic.”

  “Yes,” I said. “And I thought you wanted to become an independent woman, Luisa, so you could buy your own Claudio handbags.”

  “I do,” Luisa said with a sniff. “But that was before I knew working was so hard.”

  “Of course work is hard,” Grandmère said. “That’s why they call it work. If it were easy, they’d call it something else … like happy fun playtime.”

  Rocky laughed. “Happy fun playtime! I like that.”

  “Paytime!” Purple Iris echoed. “I pay wif big kids?”

  “Work is nearly always difficult and just as nearly always unpleasant,” Grandmère went on, ignoring them. “But one does it in order to help pay the bills and keep the world an orderly place, and also to find a sense of personal fulfillment—something Princess Amelia knows, and which is the reason she will make the best ruler of Genovia, not that selfish little beast over there.”

  “Hey!” Prince Morgan said, looking up from his phone. “I can hear you. And I’m not selfish. My dad says I’m just assertive because I know my own worth.”

  Grandmère ignored him. “So, contrary to what you might think, Luisa, you have made a commitment, and are not abandoning it to go and play tennis with the duke. Though of course he is welcome to come here and help us babysit.”

  “Fine,” Luisa said grumpily, and whipped out her phone. “I’ll tell him. But if that’s how it’s going to be, then you have to ask Prince Khalil to come over and help, too, Olivia. I don’t see why my boyfriend should be the only one to have to learn how to change a stinky diaper today.”

  “Fine,” I said. “I will.”

  And I picked up my phone and texted Prince Khalil, pretending like it was no big deal at all, when it’s actually quite a big deal. I don’t want my friend-who-is-a-boy to have to endure my hideous relative, Prince Morgan.

  But now I guess I have no choice:

  Please say no, I prayed. Please say you can’t because you’re busy. DO NOT COME OVER HERE.

  It’s not that I don’t want to see Prince Khalil.

  It’s that I don’t want to see him in front of Luisa and Nishi now that they’d mentioned the thing about him giving me a kiss as my surprise—even though of course I still don’t believe that’s what the surprise is.

  To my disappointment, however, Prince Khalil texted back mere seconds later:

  Oh no. He has no idea. Should I warn him?

  Too late, though, because a few seconds after that, he texted:

  He’d mentioned the surprise!!!! So it couldn’t be a kiss, if it was something he had to “bring,” like in a gift bag, or something.

  Luisa had a different idea, though.

  “Oh, your surprise!” she cried. Like an idiot, I wasn’t holding my phone tightly enough, so Luisa was able to snatch it away and read Khalil’s messages. “It must be a kiss after all!”

  She managed to say this right in front of my grandmother!

  Thanks, Luisa.

  “What?” I cried, blushing. “No it isn’t. Look, he said he wasn’t going to bring it. You don’t bring a kiss.”

  “Sure you do,” Luisa said. “He only said that to throw you off. It’s totally a kiss. A great big one!”

  Grandmère handled the whole thing pretty calmly, though. She said, “It would be quite nice of the prince to give you a kiss as a gift, Olivia. A kiss in the new year always brings good luck. Now, really, children: this baby is smelling as ripe as a Genovian orange left too long in the sun.” She pointed at Baby Princess Elizabeth. “Whose turn is it to change this baby’s diaper?”

  “I believe it’s yours, Your Highness,” Luisa said sweetly to Grandmère, completely forgetting to torture me over Prince Khalil and his surprise gift.

  “Oh no,” Grandmère said just as sweetly back to her. “I’m management. Management does not change diapers.”

  “Well, I’m not doing it,” Luisa said. “I’m only a cousin. Cousins don’t change diapers. That’s something aunties do!”

  So that’s how I changed the first of many dirty diapers for the day!

  Grandmère is right: work is definitely called work—and NOT happy fun playtime—for a reason!

  Tuesday, December 29

  3:30 P.M.

  Royal Pool

  I was right about the day turning out to be a disaster. Luisa has invited over our whole class, practically.

  Well, okay, maybe not our whole class.

  But definitely the duke and all his friends, none of whom are interested in taking care of babies.

  Even worse, they all got here at the same moment as Prince Khalil, so my first time saying hello to him again after being separated for a whole seven days was extremely awkward! There were all these people watching, and I don’t even mean people like the majordomo. But also people like Luisa and my grandmother.

  So when Prince Khalil walked in, I had to act cool, even though my heart skipped a beat at the sight of him (cheesy as that sounds). He just looked so good! Especially because he was smiling so wide at seeing me (at least, I hope that was why).

  “Hello, Princess Olivia,” he said, coming over to take my hand to shake it. (We had to be very formal, because of Grandmère and Prince Morgan and the majordomo and all.) “It’s nice to see you again.”

  “Why, hello, Prince Khalil,” I said, just as formally. “It’s nice to see you, too.”

  Meanwhile, I was smiling so hard, I thought my cheeks would burst in two … especially when he leaned down (he is slightly taller than me) and kissed me.

  Only on the cheek, of course! First one cheek, then the other. This is the standard greeting in Genovia. My surprise gift DEFINITELY wasn’t a kiss … at least, not the kind Luisa and Nishi meant!

  Then, just as he pulled away, and I was gazing into his dark eyes, wondering if Luisa was right, and my surprise really was a kiss, only maybe coming at a different ti
me, the duke yelled, “Cannonball!” and ran past us and jumped into the pool, making such an enormous splash that both of us got wet.

  “It’s fine,” Luisa said, when I went up to her to complain about her boyfriend’s behavior. “Babies like excitement.”

  But I don’t think babies like dukes doing cannonballs in the pool right next to them (and by babies I do not mean me and Prince Khalil, I mean my niece and nephew).

  Well, not next to them, exactly—I would never let that happen. But close enough that several drops of water landed on Baby Princess Elizabeth’s tiny cheek, despite the cover over her royal bassinet.

  “Luisa,” I said through gritted teeth, when the duke got out of the water and walked over to the diving board to try another jump. “This is inappropriate.”

  “Oh, Stick,” Luisa said with a laugh. “You worry too much.”

  Stick is the nickname Luisa calls me when she thinks I’m acting like a stick-in-the-mud.

  “I thought we’d both agreed you were going to stop calling me Stick,” I hissed. I was aware that Prince Khalil was watching us curiously.

  “I would if you’d stop acting like one. By the way, do you have a tampon I could borrow?”

  She said this right in front of Prince Gunther and Victorine and Marguerite and everyone, including Prince Khalil!!! And after the discussion we’d had last night in my room, and our agreement to use the code word “shells,” and everything!

  “Oh, I do,” Marguerite said, and reached into her pool bag.

  “I do, too,” Nadia said, and reached into hers, as well.

  Every girl in my entire class has had their period except me!

  Actually, this is not true. I know Nadia has not had hers, because we discussed it once. She only carries around tampons for when she eventually does, and also because Luisa is always asking for them. Nadia says she feels sorry for Luisa, “because her grandmother doesn’t remember to buy her personal hygiene supplies!”

  Ha! That’s not the reason Luisa is always asking for tampons.

  Prince Khalil—and all the rest of the boys, including Prince Gunther—was too polite to mention the incident, if he’d even noticed. I’m not sure he couldn’t have, though, really.

  But it doesn’t matter, because after that we were too busy anyway with Purple Iris, who was delirious with joy over the fact that all these new people had arrived.

  “I bwush?” she kept going up to boys like the duke and asking, holding out her pudgy little fist, her baby brush clutched tightly in it, while pointing to his hair. “I bwush?”

  “What?” the duke said, dodging to get away from her. “No way!”

  “Aw, come on,” Prince Khalil said. “Have some pity for the poor kid.”

  “Your funeral, Leel,” the duke said, laughing. Leel is the nickname the duke and some of the other boys call Khalil, which is pronounced Kuh-LEEL.

  Prince Khalil ignored him. “You can brush my hair, little girl,” he said to Purple Iris, and sat down on a chaise longue so Purple Iris could reach his hair to brush it.

  Although I think he soon regretted it, because Iris was not the gentlest of hairstylists.

  “Ow,” Prince Khalil said. “Um, could you not—Whoa, this kid is strong.”

  “Oh my gosh, that is so adorable,” Marguerite said, snapping a photo of Prince Khalil getting his hair brushed by Purple Iris.

  “I know,” Nadia said, snapping a photo of her own. “I’m so posting this.”

  The one good thing about Luisa calling all my friends and having them show up while we were trying to babysit is that she was right about Victorine: she did know all the words to every Boris P song, and Baby Prince Frank loved them all! He actually stopped crying when she sang them …

  But only Boris P songs, and only when she sang them … He would burst out crying again if anyone else tried to sing.

  At first Victorine seemed pleased and flattered by this.

  But after about the eighth song, she began to look a little scared.

  “You guys,” she whispered over the top of Baby Prince Frank’s head. “I’m going to have to sit here and do this all day? Is this kid ever going to fall asleep?”

  “No,” Rocky said. “But at least he’s not crying. Oh wait—”

  Baby Prince Frank had begun to cry because Victorine wasn’t singing. She hastily began singing again.

  “Seriously,” she sang, as if her words were part of the song. “My throat is starting to get dry.”

  “Tea,” cried Grandmère, clapping her hands—but not loudly enough to wake Baby Princess Elizabeth, who’d finally fallen asleep now that her brother wasn’t crying and keeping her awake. “I’ll order some hot tea with honey from the kitchens right away in order to soothe your vocal cords. We must do all we can to keep them relaxed, particularly up until and during the coronation. You’ve become a vital asset to our team, young lady! We cannot lose you. It’s essential that we keep that baby quiet while his mother is being crowned.”

  “You mean if she’s crowned,” Prince Morgan said with a sniff. “Who’d allow babies in a throne room? Loud, nasty things!”

  “Not allow the babies to attend their own mother’s coronation?” Grandmère shook her head. “That would be an abomination! When they grow old enough and realize they were purposefully excluded from one of the most important days in Genovian history, they’d very rightly never forgive us!”

  Prince Morgan rolled his eyes. “They could always watch it later when they’re older, on video.”

  “Watch it on video?” Grandmère looked as outraged as if he’d suggested she wear an evening gown to brunch. “Knowing one has attended something live, young man, even when one is only a few weeks old, is always superior to watching it on a screen. Always!”

  I couldn’t believe we were even talking about this, given that, depending on the outcome of the meetings my sister was having, there might not even be a coronation. But whatever.

  I now have more important things to worry about, such as the fact that Serena, my bodyguard, has just reminded me about my dress fitting.

  “Your Highness, have you forgotten?” She looked a little irritated by all the splashing—mainly from the water polo game that Prince Gunther had started—and probably by the fact that Prince Morgan continued to forget she’s not a servant, and kept asking her to get him things from his room or the palace kitchen, like his sunglasses or a Coke. “Your gown for the coronation. Your fitting is right now.”

  I totally forgot!

  This is the kind of thing that slips your mind when you’re surrounded by babies and young royals who are having an impromptu pool party instead of doing what they’re supposed to be doing, which is babysitting.

  “Uh,” I said, turning to Prince Khalil, who was still bravely allowing Purple Iris to brush out his curls. “I’m sorry, Khalil. But I have an urgent matter of state to attend to. I promise I’ll be back just as soon as I can, but in the meantime, do you think you can keep an eye on things around here while I’m gone? I’d ask Nishi, but…”

  Nishi couldn’t seem to take her gaze off a shirtless Prince Gunther, who was playing goalkeeper. Nishi, who keeps telling me how much she misses Dylan, and who is supposed to be babysitting!

  Prince Khalil smiled, even though I was certain what Purple Iris was doing to him had to be a little uncomfortable. His hair was standing at least three inches on end.

  “Of course,” he said. “And maybe later, when you’re finished babysitting, you and I could go get an ice cream or something?”

  I smiled back, my heart thumping happily the way it always does when he suggests going to get an ice cream. That’s the special thing we’d done on our first ever … well, not date, since we’re not dating. But the first time we ever admitted to having a special liking for each other, we’d sat on the seawall in downtown Genovia, eating ice cream and gazing out at the ocean while almost but not quite holding hands.

  “I would love that,” I said, even though I couldn’t see how it w
as ever going to happen with all this craziness around us, plus my royal duties.

  I hated to leave him here in the clutches of Purple Iris, the terrifying baby hairstylist, but what else could I do? One time I was late to a royal fitting, and Sebastiano, left to his own devices, sewed gigantic orange elephants all over the dress he had designed for me. He said he felt the elephants showed the true me, “a young and inno girl.” (He meant “innocent.” Sebastiano doesn’t speak English very well.)

  When I asked him (very politely) to please remove the elephants because I’m not seven years old, he got very insulted.

  Artists, particularly fashion designers, can be extremely temperamental. Grandmère says you have to handle them with kid gloves or they’ll just go all to pieces, and then they’re of no use to anyone.

  Tuesday, December 29

  4:45 P.M.

  High Tea

  Royal Genovian Gardens

  I’m not going to say that today was the worst day ever, because I’ve definitely had worse. There was that day back at my old school in New Jersey when Annabelle Jenkins punched me in the face for no reason. (Well, it turned out there was a reason, but not a reason that made sense to anyone but Annabelle Jenkins.)

  That was worse.

  Today was close, however. No one punched me in the face, but having to babysit one toddler, twin infants, a spoiled little prince, AND Lady Luisa felt a lot like getting punched in the face.

  Especially the Lady Luisa part. I’ve always known she had problems. Why else would she constantly tell me I’m immature and ask me all the time if she can borrow a tampon when she knows I don’t have one? That is not the behavior of a self-loving individual. I’ve always known that that is the behavior of a person with issues.

  But what I did not know was that she was completely and totally irresponsible and also possibly a criminal.

  But I sure found out today, when I came back from my gown fitting.

  Sebastiano has really outdone himself this time. No orange elephants. The dress he’s made for me is of pure cream-colored silk, cinched in at the waist with a full ball-gown skirt and tiny off-the-shoulder puffed sleeves, so light and airy that I don’t just look like a princess in it: I look like a fairy princess, but one of those cool ones who cast spells.