The Little Prince of Monaco

Chapter 1

Three o'clock. Another idea emerging. Draw a line. Let your artistic soul express herself. Add some movement, add some substance. Refine the contour lines. The dress starts to appear. All that's missing is the original touch. Now start drawing the model, then quickly sketch the background.

"Charles? Does this history lesson bore you? Or will I have, at least, the honour of your attention?"

My teacher's voice surprised me, and I immediately stopped drawing.

"Oh sorry Mr. Hill, I swear I was listening, but..." I sighed "Excuse me, Sir".

I dropped my pencil and focused back on school. Just a normal day in my life. School wasn't easy for me, as if it didn't want me. I always struggled to concentrate long enough. I'd rather take a paper and a pen to express myself.

"I expect you to be more attentive in class, Charles" Mr. Hill responded.

"I know Sir, I'll make some efforts" I said.

It wasn't like school annoyed me, I wished I could be like those 'ideal students' in front of the classroom. No matter how hard I tried to be serious in class, drawing was instinctive for me. Each time boredom threatened to lay me low and I saw an empty space on my sheets, I wanted to fill it with sketches. It cleared my mind, occupied my hands, and helped me to think. 

I always liked to draw. I remembered afternoons with my father, when I was a child, where he showed me how to draw a cat, a flower or things like that. After a few hours of struggle, proud of my flower, I offered it to my mother. A smile full of love would spread on her face and I liked when she smiled.

At the end of the history class, I packed my things and rushed outside. Today my friends finished later, so I had to go back alone. I had lived in Monaco, the glamorous city, since I was born. It was a small but densely populated city, there was always something to see, always something to do. Life there was vibrant, everything was buzzing. Clichés about Monaco were also quite true: you couldn't walk for 3 minutes without passing a luxury car, and it wasn't unusual to come across a celebrity buying croissants. I knew it by heart, and I liked every aspect of it.

To come back home I had to walk across the Monte-Carlo district. I could take this route with my eyes closed, I'd walked it so many times before. I passed the famous Casino de Monaco and the Hôtel de Paris, walked for a few minutes, and finally arrived in front of my house in the residential part of the district. 

To have a house in Monte-Carlo was expensive, but my family was probably one of the richest in the principality. The name Lavinia gained a reputation when my father, Andrea Lavinia, became the first Monegasque dress designer for Dior. His creations had drawn the eyes of the fashion world to the city on the Rock, making him a national pride. And I, Charles Lavinia, had to carry this heavy legacy.

I opened the front door, happy to be back home. I put my bag down in the hall and headed to the kitchen to take an orange juice. Then I grabbed my history notebook and took it all into the living room where my mother was working.

"Hello mum" I said.

"Hi Charles, how was school today?" she asked me.

"Uh, nothing new"

She looked at me with an amused grin, knowing everything about my great relationship with school. I sat beside her on the couch, my orange juice on the table and my history lesson in hand. I was reading it for a few minutes when Mum looked at the pages of my notebook and said:

"You're still drawing in class?"

"Yes. I know I shouldn't, but sometimes it helps me to concentrate."