Once Upon a Princess

by Christine Marciniak

  I push my chair back from the table. “May I please be excused?” I say, and without waiting for an answer, I leave my napkin by my plate and hurry from the room.

  Up in my bedroom, I lock the door and take huge gulping breaths while spots dance in front of my eyes. I’ve ruined everything. Absolutely everything. How could I be so stupid? I sit on the floor in front of the door and put my head between my knees in an attempt not to pass out. Am I going to faint? Is that too convenient a reaction? I have to do something. I have to fix this.

  My fingers shake as I pull out my phone. The first thing I do is delete the video telling Pap to come here. But it has already been viewed more than ten thousand times, and the shares are in the four digits. I can’t take it back. Not that easily. Damn. Damn. Damn.

  I need to make another video. I need to tell Pap not to listen to me.

  I can’t do that until I can breathe normally. I take a deep breath in and let it out slowly. One more time. And once more, and I think I might be able to do this. I point the camera at myself.

  “Prinzessin Fredericka here. Pap. Did you see my last message? I was wrong. Don’t come here. Stay where you are and save the country. We’re counting on you. Please don’t leave. Ich leibe dich!”

  As soon as I finish uploading it, I grab my teddy bear. Felix lied to me. He tried to trick Pap into abdicating and used me as a pawn. And the bear. This is my bear. How did Felix get it? Did Pap really give it to him? Did Felix go into my room and take it? And what if he tampered with it in some way, put a bomb in it or a recording device?

  I throw the bear across the room, afraid to have it near me.

  Deep breath. Okay, maybe not a bomb. A bomb probably would have gone off by now or else I would have felt it inside the bear. But a recording device? Those could be small. Maybe he’s recording everything we say. Maybe he put a GPS unit in it so he can track us if we leave the house.

  I cross the room and retrieve my bear, and with the help of a pair of nail scissors, I rip open its seams. Soon my bear is dismantled, stuffing covering the bed, but there is nothing in the bear except stuffing. He didn’t do anything to Sir Fred, but I’ve completely destroyed him.

  The doorknob rattles.

  “Let me in, Fritzi,” Georgie says from the other side of the door.

  Feeling like I’m moving through molasses, I stand and open the door. Georgie looks at the disemboweled bear, and her mouth falls open. “What’s going on?” she asks.

  I shut the door behind her and relock it, then pull her over to the bed.

  “I’ve ruined everything!” I say, and the tears start down my face.

  “How could you have?” she asks, her arm around me, soothing me like I’m a child.

  So I tell her about Felix and the bear and the video I made. Her arm around me stiffens, and I know she’s going to yell at me and tell me how stupid I was.

  “I did make a new video though. So hopefully that will help,” I say.

  “Oh, honey, Pap isn’t going to leave Colsteinburg just because you made a video asking him to. He knows what’s at stake.”

  I sniffle, and Georgie hands me a tissue. “Really?” I ask and wipe my nose. “Are you sure?”

  She doesn’t answer right away, which leads me to believe she’s not entirely sure.

  “If he leaves,” she says finally, “it will be because he has decided that is the prudent course. It won’t just be because you ask him to.” She gives my shoulders a squeeze. “You’re not that spoiled.”

  That’s good to know, anyway.

  “The more important thing is to figure out who Felix Martel is and what he’s up to. Come downstairs. I’m sure Mam and the ambassador have some insight. They probably know him and can help sort it out.”

  She stands up, but I’m not quite ready to go downstairs yet. “You sure I didn’t ruin everything?”

  “I’m sure,” she says and holds out her hand to me.

  Now I have to go tell Mam what I’ve done. Hopefully she’ll be as understanding as Georgie.

  19

  I can’t believe Felix would betray us like that,” Mam says once I’ve told the story. She looks ashen and has pushed her plate away. I seem to have ruined everyone’s appetite, and I no longer hope to see Pap walk in that door.

  It turns out that Felix was one of Pap’s advisers. A friend. Or so we thought.

  “Mr. Orcutt betrayed us,” Georgie points out. “Why shouldn’t Felix?”

  “Does Frederick even know whom he can trust?” Mam asks Mr. Hart.

  He looks as helpless as the rest of us and takes a gulp of his wine before answering. “There are some people who have loudly declared allegiance to one side or another, but if someone is saying one thing and meaning another, it will be a matter of trusting his instincts.”

  “I’m so sorry,” I say for probably the hundredth time. “You don’t think Pap will leave Colsteinburg, do you?”

  Mam shakes her head. “No, Fritzi, I don’t. And I don’t blame you. Felix tricked you.” The lines between her eyes deepen, and she catches me with what can only be described as a look of royal disapproval. “You should never have been out on your own though. It could have been so much worse.”

  I’m afraid to ask what she thought could have happened, but images of bands of assassins chasing me through the streets of town come unbidden to mind, and I shudder.

  “I will keep you safe, Your Royal Highness,” Henri says to me. “But you must let me do my job.”

  Right. I am now well and truly chastened. No more running off on my own.

  “Tell me about these videos you are making,” Mrs. Hart says, and although I don’t want to think of the one I made urging Pap to leave, I don’t mind the change of subject.

  “The videos are supposed to convince the people of Colsteinburg that they still want the royal family, kind of like ads convince everyone they like soda.” I pull out my phone and show some of them to her.

  “Those are adorable,” she says. “Very cute. Have you done any in English?”

  “Why would I? Everyone in Colsteinburg speaks German.” It’s true we study English and French in school, but there’s no point in doing the videos in all those languages.

  “Yes, but people in America speak English.”

  I must look particularly blank because she goes on to explain.

  “Americans love an underdog,” Mrs. Hart says, a huge smile on her face.

  “Underdog?” I look to Georgie for clarification.

  “Someone who is almost certain to lose. Someone whom all the odds are against.”

  Underdog. We are the royal family. We are not people who get sympathy by being thought of as losers. “The videos are not designed to make people feel sorry for losers,” I say, a hard edge to my voice that I don’t even recognize. “They are to rally the people of Colsteinburg. I do not need American pity.”

  Mam looks horrified that I would use such a tone, but I don’t care. It’s past the time to worry about protocol and etiquette. Georgie has sympathy in her eyes, as if she knows something that I haven’t accepted yet. Well, I will not accept our loss if that’s what it’s all about. Henri is staring at his food, not even making eye contact with me. Mrs. Hart looks surprised by my reaction, but also almost pitying, as if I really am an underdog in need of sympathy.

  Ambassador Hart is a true diplomat, and his expression is impossible to read. He’s the one who answers me.

  “Your Royal Highness,” he says, with no hint of condescension at all. “You must understand, from here it is very difficult to get a full reading on the hearts and minds of the people of Colsteinburg. But do not underestimate the power of having the American press and the American people behind you. Trust me, that would be a good thing.”

  Georgie nods encouragingly, and I swallow the hurt that comes with the term underdog. Fine.

  “How is this good?” I ask.

  Mr. Hart puts down his fork and gives me his full attention, “If public opinion is on your side, y
ou are more likely to get the politicians to step up and do the right thing. Perhaps we’d even be able to get you State Department security. Perhaps they would send someone to help Frederick negotiate a truce with the opposition. What the American people like gets noticed.”

  “I guess I can do some in English if that would help.”

  “I think it would,” Mrs. Hart says and gives me a warm smile, which does help make me feel a bit better about everything that’s going on.

  “I don’t know,” Mam says, “Perhaps you shouldn’t do any more videos.” The good feeling starts to dissipate.

  “No,” Mr. Hart says thoughtfully. “Let her keep doing them. They are doing no harm, and like I said, they may be helpful.”

  “They are undignified,” Mam says.

  “So is running away,” I answer.

  There is an awkward silence around the table, and then Mr. Hart starts talking about the weather, and Mrs. Hart asks about dessert and goes out to the kitchen for the pastries they brought. I barely touch my strawberry tart, and I don’t say anything else the rest of the night.

  As we get ready for bed, Georgie chastises me. “You don’t have to make things harder for everyone. It wasn’t Mam’s idea to run away. Why make her feel bad?”

  “I wasn’t trying to make Mam feel bad.” I slump down onto the bed. “I just hate this whole situation, and it doesn’t feel like anyone is doing anything to make it better except my videos, and Mam thinks they’re undignified? Well, I’d rather be undignified and win than dignified and lose.”

  “We might not win,” Georgie says.

  “We have to win.” I get into bed and turn away from her. I don’t want to discuss this anymore, and I don’t want her to contradict me.

  Over the weekend, I make a couple of the videos over again in English and watch as the number of views skyrockets. I don’t know if it will really help, but people are watching and talking about them. I don’t make over the one asking Pap to come to America. That one is better left forgotten.

  We hear nothing from him. He doesn’t show up at the front door, and there is no message from him on any of the videos. There is no phone call. No text message. Nothing. Where is he? Did Felix really see him? How much of what he said was a lie?

  If I never see Felix again, it would be too soon.

  But what if he wasn’t lying? He was Pap’s trusted adviser. Maybe he did know what he was talking about. How do we know that what Ambassador Hart said about Pap effectively abdicating if he left the country is true? Rulers leave countries all the time, and it doesn’t mean they stop being the ruler. Maybe Ambassador Hart is wrong. Maybe it would be better for Pap to be here.

  How could I even ever find out?

  I wish I really knew what was going on and what was the best thing to do.

  It’s funny. I read my history books, and everything seems so straightforward. Of course this action led to this result, what else could it have done? What the history books don’t talk about are all the actions not taken and what results those might have led to.

  I want to ask Mam or Georgie, but Georgie has on headphones and is busy with calculus problems, and Mam is curled up on the sofa with a thick book. Neither of them looks much like they want to be interrupted.

  History books also skip over all the long, boring parts filled with waiting for something to happen. I wish I could skip those parts too. Though maybe if the ending isn’t going to be good, I don’t want to rush it.

  A few news vans ride up and down the street a couple of times, but we don’t go out, and there’s nothing for them to see, so they eventually go away.

  I can’t take another day like this.

  When we all sit down for dinner, I take a deep breath and just say what I need to say.

  “I want to go back to school tomorrow.”

  “No,” Mam says without even thinking about it. “It’s not safe.”

  “How is it any more dangerous than sitting in the townhouse?”

  “Anyone could get you there.”

  “No,” I contradict. “The doors are locked, and there is a security guard at the door. Anyone who gets there after school opens has to ring the doorbell to get in, show ID to the security guard, and then sign in at the main office. It’s very safe.”

  I’ve not only been observing things, I also spent a little time online to find the security setup at the school. “All Henri has to do is go to the office and tell them the people who should not be allowed in, like Felix, and also to call him if anyone wants to go into one of the classes I’m in.”

  Mam is still shaking her head.

  “I’m going crazy, Mam,” I start to plead. “I need to be doing something other than sitting around here. I’m a kid. I should be in school. I need to learn things and be with kids my age. I need to have something to think about other than what’s going on at home.”

  “She’s right,” Georgie says. “And there have been no more threats. The media attention has died down, and if Henri brings her back and forth to school and no one can get in, then how could there be a problem?”

  Mam shakes her head, but she’s wavering.

  “What do you think, Henri?” I ask. “Would it be safe for me?”

  “Obviously, I would prefer to have all three of you in the same place, but as you say, the security at the school is such that it should not be a problem. If it is all right with Her Majesty, I will undertake the necessary measures to see that you are safe at the school starting tomorrow.”

  I look back at Mam. It’s all up to her. She hasn’t made a decision in almost two weeks. If she’s going to start asserting her authority again, I sure hope she comes down in my favor on this one.

  20

  It’s Monday morning, and I’m sitting in Spanish class as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. Mam actually agreed to let me go, though I think mainly she wanted me out from underfoot at the townhouse.

  I take out my Spanish notebook and smile at Bethany, who is sitting next to me. “Did you have a good weekend?” I ask.

  Bethany looks at me through narrowed eyes. “You weren’t in school most of last week,” she says, as if lobbing an accusation at me.

  “I know. Henri didn’t think it was safe.”

  “Who’s Henri? Is he the man who picked you up the other day? Is he your mother’s lover or something?” There’s a sarcastic edge to Bethany’s voice that I don’t remember from last week.

  “No!” I’m so shocked by the question that I almost shout. “My mother’s lover? What a thing to say! He’s her bodyguard. And he didn’t think it was safe.”

  “Some bodyguard if he couldn’t even keep you safe around here.” She waves her hand to indicate the classroom and I suppose by extension the neighborhood.

  “That’s not the point,” I say. This is a ridiculous conversation.

  “Yeah, well. You can’t just come to school whenever you want, you know. I mean, it’s a waste of the teacher’s time if you don’t really mean to be there.”

  “The teacher has to be here anyway,” Jasmine says, with barely a glance at Bethany as she walks past our desks to one in the back.

  The tension in my shoulders eases a little at this support from an unexpected corner. I want to say something to Jasmine, to thank her or at least acknowledge that I appreciate her words, but she’s not looking at me as she takes her seat. Next to me, Bethany stares at her desk, her cheeks bright red. Do a few words from Jasmine really make her feel that awful?

  Jasmine really is the queen bee in this school. It’s a good thing she seems to have decided to be on my side. But why has Bethany turned on me? What did I do to earn that animosity? Skip school? Or is it because I wasn’t honest with her before? Maybe I’ll sit with her at lunch today and try to explain. I wish I were back at my own school with Claudia and Sophia. But no. Even my best friend has turned on me in all of this. Life is so unfair.

  Señora Sanchez starts class, and I think about translations and conjugations for awhile. When class
ends, Bethany doesn’t even look at me as she bolts from the room. I gather my books together and look for Jasmine, but she is chatting with Marly and her other friend, Jordan, and doesn’t notice me.

  I head to math class on my own. I guess I’m the girl without friends this week. I’ll have to do something about that.

  Later, as I change for gym, a girl whose name I don’t know looks at me and rolls her eyes. “If you’re a princess, then how come your shorts come from Walmart?”

  I’m not sure what one has to do with the other, and I stare at her for a second before answering. “The princess store was all out. This was the next best option.” The girl doesn’t look convinced by my answer. “You know,” I continue conversationally, “there isn’t a dress code for being a princess.”

  “There should be,” she says, trying for high and mighty and sounding petulant instead.

  “I’ll let the queen know you think so. I’m sure she’ll really value your opinion.”

  The girl isn’t sure how to respond to that, so she tosses her flat-ironed hair over her shoulder and walks away from me.

  Yeah. Whatever.

  Once again, when teams are chosen for basketball, I’m on Jasmine’s.

  She nods at me without speaking as I join her on the gym floor. I nod back. Somehow we’ve managed to come to a truce. That is much better than outright hostilities.

  “Woo!” another girl shouts. “We have the princess.”

  And that’s when I realize that people who never even bothered to learn my name last week are all calling me “princess.”

  I am a princess, but the way everyone throws the term around so casually as if it were my name and not my title is a little uncomfortable. No one here seems to know anything about the proper way to address a member of the royal family or even how to use a title properly. At least they recognize me for who I am. That counts for something.

  Our team wins, and Jasmine high-fives me, still without speaking. Bethany won’t even look my way. I’m not sure coming to school is really so much better than being at home. At least there, people spoke to me.