Royal Academy Diaries I

The Plain Ballerina ⚜ Ch. 3

Svetlana sat in her first class of the day - literature - trying to bolster her courage. While the professor Wriglesworth droned on about Shakespearean symbolism in regard to the deaths of his characters, she thought to herself, Come on, weeks have passed already. I have to try being strong, brave. Otherwise it won't happen. Right. She looked around at the boys in her class, all rather handsome, she thought with a sigh. I have about as much chance of finding love as Prince Marc Arinsal making eyes at me.

Fidgeting with her necklace, she tried to think of something brave to do. Saying hi to the princes sitting close to her would be a start. With a sigh, she looked down at the vial pendant. Inside were three tiny white blossoms - the only time a boy had ever given her flowers. She knew it was silly to keep them, especially to make a necklace out of them, but thinking about it gave her a remarkable boost of confidence, and more importantly, hope.

Glancing out of the corner of her eye at the cute jock prince next to her, she did a double take. Around the edges of his notes, he was doodling - flowers.

She hid a grin behind her hand. How adorably uncharacteristic. Apparently the sporty prince was a softie.

A bold thought then struck her.

As he turned to whisper something to his friend, she acted before giving time to think. She added to his flowers and drew a little grass, turning it into a meadow.

Withdrawing quickly, Svetlana's heart pounded. What was that?! What had she done? Now he was going to talk to her! Or worse, he wouldn't. Oh no...

The prince turned around and immediately noticed her additions. A grin pulled at his lips and he looked over at her. She offered a small smile, keeping her hands under the desk to hide their trembling.

The professor's voice then cut through her thoughts, announcing something she had dreaded for two weeks.

He was going to write notes on the blackboard.

All traces of her smile faded as she began a careful procedure. Reaching into her skirt pocket, she slowly pulled out a pair of glasses.

Her worst fears were realized as a Venetian nobleman on her left leaned in. "Uh oh, need specs, sweetheart?" he taunted demeaningly.

That was it. She was never going to Italy.

Svetlana's set her jaw, taking her notes quickly, splattering ink on the page with her haste. The minutes ticked down loudly, and the moment the professor put down his chalk, she tore off the glasses. She dropped her quill into the inkwell and stuffed the spectacles back into her pocket. Everything was ready for three, two, one.

The moment the bell rang, she scooped up her things and practically ran down the aisle of desks, not realizing that her vial was ripped off the chain.

She brushed past the prince, not looking at him as tears slipped down her cheeks. All she could think of was getting to Language class before the halls filled with too many people to witness her shame.

"Hey, wait!"

She didn't look back to see the prince holding her vial of flowers.