Who Made You a Princess?

by Shelley Adina

  Inside, over my mother’s cry of distress, I heard the vase hit the floor and smash into a million pieces.

  Chapter 16

  I BURST INTO OUR ROOM and Carly jerked her head out of the closet, where she’d been putting something away.

  “Shani! What happened?”

  I grabbed my purse and phone. “I’ma go away. Far as I can get.” Tears ran down my cheeks and dripped off my chin.

  Stupid tears. Wasted on those people.

  “Shani, wait!”

  Carly grabbed her own purse and a jacket and dogged me to the rain tunnel. Panting along behind me, she finally grabbed my hand and pulled me to a stop. “Will you tell me what’s wrong?”

  I shook my head and sniffled. She handed me a Kleenex.

  I used it and kept going. “Gotta go.”

  Jogging beside me, she began to talk. And not to me. “Lord, this can’t be good. Need some help here.”

  Okay, that got my attention. I pulled her through the glass doors of the field house and outside, where I hailed a cab. Once we were safely in the backseat, I told the cabbie, “Palace of Fine Arts.” Then I turned to her.

  Tears glimmered in her eyes.

  For me.

  My face crumpled again and I fell into her hug, sobbing like I’d never cried before in my life. Big, honking, hurtful sobs that lasted all the way down the hill. When I finally came up for air and had used every Kleenex she had, I felt hollow and empty.

  All the rage had gone, leaving an acid trail of hurt. But I’d lived with that for a long time.

  The cab dropped us at the Palace, but I turned my back on the depressing Rodin statues and headed for the misty coolness of the park instead. Up here on the hill, I could see the waves breaking on the shore below. The trees combed the fog with their branches, and it was quiet except for the skreek of the seagulls.

  I could finally breathe.

  And then I told Carly everything.

  When I finished, I glanced sideways at her. Her face was so white in the pearly daylight that it was nearly green, and one last tear tracked its way down her cheek.

  I’d used all her tissues.

  “Here.” With the cuff of my school blouse, I wiped the tear away. She shouldn’t have to cry for me. I had enough tears for my own self.

  “It can’t be real,” she said at last, like an instant replay of my own words. “They can’t be serious. Who does that in 2009?”

  “It is and they do,” I replied somberly, and started on our second circuit of the park path. “But I don’t care, I’m not going through with it. I’ve got nothing against Rashid. I like the guy, most of the time. But an arranged marriage? Are they insane?”

  “It’s one thing to find out you’re a princess,” she said, “you know, like in The Princess Diaries. But it’s a whole other thing to have to marry a stranger to get there.”

  “And they completely threw up on the idea of Danyel. I’m not allowed to see him, just when I need him the most.”

  “If you’re not going to marry the prince, I can’t see that stopping you. Why should it mat-ter?” I blinked at her. Carly, giving the rebel yell? Whoa. “Don’t give me that look,” she went on. “There’s a point in everyone’s life when you have to stand up for who you are. If you’re not going to be the Princess of Yasir, this would be that point.”

  “Girlfriend, you scare me.”

  She snorted. “A little scary isn’t a bad thing. I learned that last term.”

  Memory seeped through the wall of my misery, and I connected the dots between her past and the present. “Wait a second. Didn’t the trial start this week?”

  She nodded. “I had to testify today. Mac is supposed to go tomorrow.”

  She hadn’t been in the room when I burst in. “Where is she?”

  “Her mom took her back to the St. Francis for dinner. She’s a wreck.”

  “Mac or her mom?”

  “Both of them, I guess. The countess—Margaret, her name is, but she asked me to call her Meg—had never seen David before he came into the courtroom. She didn’t look so good when she came back into the judge’s chambers to sit with us.”

  “I guess not.” I tried to imagine it. “It’d be weird to see him, knowing your husband had cheated on you and he was the result.”

  “He didn’t cheat on her, though. It all happened before they were married. He didn’t know David existed until a few years ago. That’s when he and Meg split up, and David started stalking Mac.”

  “Think Mac will last through the trial?”

  Carly nodded, gazing out at the seagulls riding the updraft. “She’s every bit as tough as she looks. She cares more about her mom’s feelings than anything. It kills her that Meg won’t forgive her dad.”

  “I’m not going to forgive my dad,” I said grimly, returning to my own problems.

  Carly turned to me, nibbling the inside of her lip. “I hope you do. Eventually.”

  “How can I?” I threw my hands in the air, and two gulls banked sideways, screeching in alarm. “They set me up in an arranged marriage! I’m not interested in making them feel all warm and fuzzy. I hope they—” I stopped myself from saying shrivel up and die. It would only upset her.

  “I didn’t mean for them,” Carly said. “I meant for you.”

  “Huh?”

  “Forgiveness. It’s a two-way street, you know. They get forgiveness, you get peace.”

  “Believe me, I can get peace without that.”

  “You can try, I guess.”

  I turned on her. “You can’t seriously think I’m going to forgive them for this. They can fly off into their self-centered sunset and never bother me again, as far as I’m concerned. They gave up their right to expect anything from me when they cooked up this stupid plan.”

  “Maybe so, but you’re still responsible for what’s inside you.”

  “You don’t want to know what’s inside me right now.”

  “That’s why I’m praying, girlfriend.”

  Somehow this slapped me the wrong way. “Well, don’t. I don’t need anybody’s help. I don’t need people messing in my life. Not parents, not friends, not teachers, not anybody. Not even God. Where was He when the Sheikh was giving his high and holy permission, huh?”

  “But Shani—”

  I began to run.

  “Shani!”

  I dodged through the trees. The street was only a few feet away. I’d flag a cab and go…somewhere. The airport. I had all my credit cards in my bag. Maybe I’d catch a flight to Hawaii and spend a couple of days just lying on a beach until my brain fried and I forgot what my parents had done.

  I wouldn’t think about Mac and her problems. I wouldn’t think about Carly and her unreasonable expectations. I’d just think about me.

  It was all about me. And my survival.

  Yeah.

  Stupid tears, running down my face.

  Stupid Carly, chasing me, shouting my name. Like I was going to stop.

  Stupid blurry world and cars and—

  I began to sob again, which was probably why I didn’t hear or see the little silver Prius roll silently through the stop sign without even slowing down.

  TEXT MESSAGE_________________________

  To: PhoneList All

  From: SysAdmin

  Check out the article in this month’s Paris Match (photo attached). And then check out Shani Hanna’s baby bump. What will come first? Graduation announcements or birth announcements?

  * * *

  To:DL_All_Students

  From:NCurzon@spenceracad.edu

  Date:October 21, 2009

  Re:Text message

  Please delete the defamatory text message on your cell phones that was sent out on the school phone alert system. Its speculations are, of course, completely false.

  The Spencer phone and message server was hacked last night. The loophole in the OS that allowed this illegal entry has since been fixed. If any student has knowledge of who may have done this, please inf
orm a faculty member immediately.

  Thank you,

  Natalie Curzon, M.Ed., Ph.D.

  Principal

  “DOCTOR VAN NESS to Emergency, please. Doctor Van Ness.”

  “I’m sorry, ma’am. Are you a member of the family?”

  “I’m her mother. They told me she was in recovery. Is she all right? What happened? How badly is she hurt?”

  “Let me page the doctor for you. Her sister is with her.”

  “Her what?”

  “THAT GIRL HAS to leave. Both of you. Please. Nurse!”

  “I am Lady Lindsay MacPhail of Strathcairn. Take your hand off my arm at once!”

  “Please let us stay, Mrs. Hanna. We’re her friends. We care about—”

  “Out!”

  WHEN I WOKE UP, the disembodied voices were a memory, the sounds rippling lazily like the long tails of ornamental goldfish. What time was it? What day was it?

  Bright lights. Ow.

  “Shani? Are you awake?”

  A cool hand covered my forehead and I blinked my eyes open. “Mom.”

  She hitched a chair closer and stroked my cheek. “You had us pretty worried for a while there.”

  “Where am I?”

  “SF General.”

  “What happened?”

  “You tried to step on a Prius. It fought back.”

  I huffed out a breath in place of a laugh. Pain stabbed in—stomach, diaphragm, shoulders.

  Guh. No more laughing.

  “Your friend Carly said you ran in front of a car. According to her, you did a barrel roll over its hood and landed in the middle of the intersection. You hit your head pretty hard on the concrete. Fortunately the driver was a quick thinker. He jumped out and pulled you over to the sidewalk.”

  “Is she here?”

  “The driver was a man, dear. No, he’s not.”

  “Not him. Carly.”

  “She called 9-1-1 and the school, who called me. From what I gather, she rode in the ambulance with you.”

  Of course she had. What would I do without a friend like Carly? First Mac, now me. The sweet girl with the core of steel was making a career out of saving people’s lives.

  “She’s not here now, though. I told them to go home.”

  “Mac was here, too?”

  “I don’t know. Who’s Mac?”

  “Redhead. Scottish. Attitude.”

  “Oh. Her. Yes, she was here this morning. But not for long.”

  “They’re my friends. You shouldn’t have chased them away.”

  Mom felt my forehead again, then adjusted the blankets over my chest. Just like a real mother. “I don’t need your permission to decide what’s best for you. What you need is to recover.”

  I didn’t like the sound of that. How badly was I messed up? I wiggled my fingers. Check. IV in back of hand. Eww.

  Eyes worked. Ears worked. Mouth obviously worked. I ran my tongue over my teeth. All there.

  Toes? Check. Legs? Check. “What does the doctor say?”

  “He says you’re luckier than the Prius. That’s going to be totaled.”

  Uh-oh. “I am okay, right?”

  “For some reason, you didn’t even break a toe. Your French tips are ruined, however, and you’ve got bruises everywhere. And he thinks you may have a bit of concussion, from the size of the lump on your head, so that’s why they kept you overnight.”

  “I’m okay.” Wow. Sweet relief spilled through me. “I’d hate to go to the premiere on crutches.”

  “That’s the least of your worries.”

  “Why?” Was there some internal trauma no one had the guts to tell me about?

  “I’m very sorry that the news about Rashid upset you so badly, darling. You shouldn’t have run away. Then this would never have happened.”

  Oh, I get it. Being hit by a car was so my fault. Yep.

  I turned my head, but there was nothing to look at except drawn curtains. I still couldn’t tell if it was day or night. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “We need to talk about it.”

  “Not now. I wanna sleep.”

  If my body couldn’t escape the scheming harpy who had taken over my mother’s body, my brain and the painkillers knew what to do. I slid gratefully into the dark.

  * * *

  To:vtalbot@spenceracad.edu

  From:hrhr@gulftel.yz

  Date:October 22, 2009

  Re:Coming back

  Thank you for your funny e-mail messages and Flickr photos. You are a true friend and I have appreciated every word. I was very sorry not to see you at the Due opening. I would have appreciated your support at what was a very difficult and disappointing time for me.

  I have just arrived and am sending this from the limo. I look forward to seeing you again in Global Studies. Or perhaps sooner.

  Rashid

  * * *

  Chapter 17

  THE NEXT TIME I woke up, I came face to face with the biggest bouquet of flowers I’d ever seen outside of a hotel lobby. Birds of paradise, lilies, frangipani—it was like a chunk of some tropical island had landed on my bedside table.

  Dear Shani,

  I was devastated to hear of your accident and hope you are recovering quickly. Please accept these poor flowers and think of me each time you look at them.

  Yours,

  Rashid

  I gazed at them with admiration, breathing in the fresh scent of greenery and the heady perfume of the flowers. Bashir had terrific taste. Or maybe he had a handbook of what flowers to send on every social occasion the prince would ever need. because I wasn’t fooling myself that Rashid had chosen them himself.

  The handwriting on the card looked pretty authentic, though. Maybe I was dissing him. It wasn’t his fault my parents—and maybe even his—had suckered him into a deal neither of us wanted. He was just as much a pawn as I, only he’d accepted his fate a lot more gracefully.

  “Shani?”

  Carly leaned in the doorway, followed immediately by Gillian, Lissa, and Mac.

  I couldn’t help the big, silly grin that spread all over my face like warm honey. “Girlfriends!”

  They piled into the room as if it was our dorm, pulling up chairs, sitting on my bed, oohing over the flowers. Carly pulled an orange tiger lily out of the bouquet, snapped off most of its stem, and tucked it behind my ear.

  “There,” she said with satisfaction. “Good accessories can overcome even blah hospital gowns.”

  I pulled her into a hug. “The only accessory I need is you guys. Thanks for saving my life, by the way.”

  “You’d do the same for me.” She made herself comfortable on the edge of the bed.

  “She hasn’t had as much practice as you,” Mac told her.

  Then I looked more closely at the two of them. “What’s with the suits? Is that more Chanel?”

  “Vintage sixties.” Mac plucked at the navy-blue boxy jacket with its signature cream piping. “Mummy dug it up and brought it with her for the court case, since this isn’t my usual thing. She thought it would be more appropriate.”

  I glanced at her feet, where she was styling her Louboutin ankle boots. “That’s better. You had me worried for a minute. So you guys had to appear again today?” I thought for a second. “What is today?”

  “Thursday. You stepped on that Prius yesterday,” Carly said. “And yeah, we did. Today David’s lawyer cross-examined us.”

  “I bet that was fun,” Gillian said. “Did you wipe the floor with him?”

  “Mac did.” Carly smiled at her. “But we didn’t come all the way over here to talk about that.” She patted my hand—the one without the IV. “We want to know how you are and when you’re coming back.”

  I glanced at the door, as if a doctor would come in and tell me. “I don’t know. I’m sore, and I banged my head, but nothing big.”

  “Thank You, Lord,” Lissa told the ceiling.

  “I’d go back today, if I could.”

  “Rashid’s back at sch
ool,” Gillian said.

  “On second thought, I think I’ll finish out the term right here.” I pulled the sheet out from under Carly and hauled it up to my chin.

  “Are those from him?” Lissa waved a hand at the flowers.

  “They’re probably from Bashir, but Rashid signed the card.”

  “Oh, man.” Gillian looked pained. “We should have sent flowers.”

  “Trust me, I’d rather look at his flowers and see you,” I assured her, “not the other way around.”

  “Carly said something bad happened when your parents came to see you yesterday at school,” Lissa said a little hesitantly, “but she’s being such a clam we couldn’t get it out of her.”

  “You didn’t say I could tell.” Carly made a sorry face. “And with your mom kicking us out this morning and court today it didn’t come up again.”

  “No big.” I looked at them, one after another. “My parents only flew halfway around the world to flash me the big headline that—”

  “Shani!” My father walked in, stepping all over my words, my doctor trailing behind him the way Bashir and Farrouk trailed in Rashid’s wake. “I’m so glad to see you awake and feeling well enough to have visitors.”

  Yeah, I bet. “Girls, this is my father, Roger Hanna. Dad, these are my roommates, Carly and Mac, and our friends, Gillian and Lissa.”

  Dad nodded at them. “Nice to meet you girls.”

  “Carly is the one who saved my life.”

  “So I understand. Also the one who masqueraded as your sister.”

  She and I exchanged a smile. “I so see the family resemblance,” I said. “You have my grandma’s eyes.”

  “I don’t think telling those kinds of lies is so funny.” Sheesh, had he left his sense of humor on the luggage carousel at SFO or what?

  “There are other kinds that aren’t so funny, either,” I said pleasantly.

  The doctor, who had been checking numbers on the machines ranged on one side of the bed, cleared his throat. Carly grabbed the moment and slid off the bed. “It was great to see you, Shani. We’ll be going now.”