“Come on! Get into formation!” Ash shouts while I struggle to fix my uniform without looking like an idiot. The photographers lining the parade route would just love it if I was caught fixing my skirt. Or worse… picking a wedgie. Yeah, that would be the media story of the week: Crown Princess Picks a Big One before Performance.
Okay, it’s safe to say that I’m officially going insane. I blame the paparazzi.
We fall into formation. All twenty five of us. We’re a pretty big dance team considering our school is pretty small. Plus, we’re the best in Northern New England, so that’s why we always get invited to Lewistown’s big annual parades. Today is the St. Patrick’s day parade.
I can hardly believe it’s already March, let alone that this is one of my last parades with my team. This senior year is going by so fast. That was made evident by the fact that I was fitted for my graduation gown a week ago. Plus, all five acceptance letters from all five of the colleges I applied for: University of Maine, Boston University, Northwestern, Harvard and University of New Hampshire. Not like they actually looked at my grades or volunteer hours. Nope, they were probably focused on my name… because everyone loves when royalty is on campus. They would sell me like a brand name if I ever went to one of those colleges.
“Ready?” Ash asks from beside me.
I nod, “Ready as I’ll ever be with all those photographers…”
She traces my gaze to where the first few of them are crouched, in front of the crowd. Their lenses are pointed at me, clicking away. I give a small smile so as not to look mad or upset—I’ve learned that’s a bad idea. Then, people think I’m some sort of stuck-up snob. I don’t know why, but that’s their way of thinking.
“Just keep your chin up and look forward,” she repeats what our coaches say all the time. “And remember to smile!”
I flash her a silly grin. The parade begins, with the sounds of marching bands—inculding ours, which is right behind us, blaring their spring marching music. Motorcycles roar a few yards away from us, along with old antique cars. Bagpipes can be heard in the distance.
The drumline taps on the edge of their drums, signaling they’re about to start. The band director waves us forward.
“Ready?!” Ash shouts.
We exchange a glance before shouting, “1, 2—1,2,3,4!”
And so the arm movements begin—no wonder my arms are so toned. It’s a lot of work. We won’t get to really dance until we reach the middle of the parade, right in front of Lewistown’s town hall, where dignitaries and politicians are waiting for entertainment.
I bet Mayor Monroe (the mayor of East Creek) is having a great time bragging about how his town has a Princess. After the winter musical last week he walked up to me, gushing about how it was an honor to have me still in town. He’s a nice guy, but a bit too loud for my taste. He’s a very obnoxious man.
At the right times we shout, “Hey!” and “East Creek!” We’re not as good at cheering as the cheerleading squad, but we sure as hell can do a better dance routine.
Out of the corner of my eye I can see the photographers running down the side of the street I’m on. Marc swats them away, while Gabe is on the other side of the road, swatting at more of them. There are also two state troopers on either side of our parade formation. They were assigned by the governor to me for today as some sort of weird honor guard.
They don’t look too happy to be dealing with photographers for this entire parade. Not very honor-guard-ish if you ask me.
Finally, we reach the middle of the parade route. The announcer shouts, “And up next we have the East Creek Marching band, but first up is the East Creek High School Dance Team!”
YOU ARE READING
Suddenly Princess
Teen FictionAnnaMaria Romanoff grows up with an adoptive family, thinking that her biological parents were working class citizens of the country of Chirnova, who died tragically in a car crash when she was just a year old. It's her senior year in high school no...
