2nd ♕
But the flyer, for some reason, stayed inside my pocket until I arrived at the animal shelter, where I was working part time. I had delivered back the ingredients that Mom no. 2 needed for our lunch, before I went to the shelter to waste away time. And that was when I realized why it did—why a part of me didn't remember throwing the flyer away.
"George, can you come to my office? There's something I need to tell you." These were the first words I heard from Abram, old man, as soon as I put down my worn out backpack inside my locker.
Abram slid quietly into his office after calling me. I looked at Pete, one of my coworkers here and also a good friend, asking him, "Did I do something wrong?"
"I don't know." Pete shrugged his shoulders, and then he pointed the tip of the mop he was holding to Abram's office. "Tsk. Tsk. Tsk."
"Are you really doing that? That's so lame for a guy," I commented. Since he had graduated from high school a year before me, we just saw each other here in the animal shelter. He was taking up B.S. Biology as a prep course for Veterinary School. Whenever he didn't have classes in the afternoon, he usually helped around here.
He cocked an eyebrow. "So now you're an expert on being a guy?"
"I'm just saying."
Pete turned the mop tip to my direction, and it gingerly landed on my head. "You're so cute, Georgey."
Shoving the mop aside, I warned him, "Stop calling me by that name."
"Georgey? Georgey? Oh, how I love calling you that." Pete laughed.
"Strangely, I haven't noticed," I said, readily losing interest on getting back at him.
His face suddenly lit up, as if remembering something important. "Wait, about the summer meet, will you make it? The one sponsored by those royal dudes. We'll call up some of the guys from my school and make a team. I was talking to Darcy the other day. I told her that I know someone who could fill up one of the four. Someone really good, I added."
"Is this the Darcy you're trying to land a date with?" I teased him.
"How many Darcy do you think I know?" he asked, incredulously.
"I know two, including yours," I answered. With a grin, I added, "Although, she's not yours exactly."
"Don't rub it in, dude. I'm trying," Pete replied, putting down the mop and the bucket he was holding. He usually kept his hair in minimal order. Most of the time, like now, his slightly curled dark brown locks were almost touching the tip of his eyes.
He began massaging his tired arms. Pete was lightweight for a guy, but his arms and legs were well-toned. We were both included in the track team back in high school. Pete had pioneered the act. Since he had turned out to be the only friend I had left in school during that time, he took me to the places he frequented. It was how I had ended up being a member of the track team in the first place.
Eventually, it turned out that I was good at running. It was the only thing that I could openly brag about. And because of that, I was given a sports scholarship by Triavia University. If not for Pete's insistence that I should join the track team several years back, I would have lost the only chance I had of attending college.
I had no idea what was out there for me. But maybe it was better to end up somewhere than to continue standing on the same place, still thinking. Never moving. Never knowing what could be up ahead.
"Just admit that you got turned down," I told him.
"I wasn't. Give it time," he answered.
"For?"
Pete smiled. "For love to grow."
"I can't believe you're even saying that." I shook my head in repulsion and amusement. But even if I teased him like this, I actually liked Darcy. She was nice to me. All of Pete's ex-girlfriends had always been threatened by my existence.
Pete and I went way back. It was five years now since we'd first met. He was old man's grandson, and he had been volunteering in this place his whole life. I started working here when I was thirteen. It was also around the time when Hannah, Mom no. 2, had entered the picture. At first, I ended up here in the shelter because I wanted to spend less time in our house.
Pete was the first person I got acquainted with. I stood for an hour outside the shelter's gate, debating with myself whether I should go or not. Pete had noticed me there, and then he said that I should just talk to his grandpops.
'Volunteers are always welcome here,' were his reassuring words back then. Almost all the time, Pete was the one opening doors for me, telling me where to go.
Old man still had some black hairs then. He had interviewed me. And seeing that I got a fair knowledge about animals—my thirteen year old self could correctly distinguish most—old man had took me in.
It was when I was sixteen that I had graduated from being a volunteer. There had been a huge donation made by an anonymous donor, so Pete and I were both absorbed as part-timers. By now, it had been two years since this had become my part-time job.
The animal shelter was built around thirty-five years now. The main benefactors were the members of the Royal Family, as the shelter was located in Triavia City. It could hold around seventy cats, twenty-five dogs, and one or two other animals, like birds or rabbits, at any given time. A huge snake also resided here once. It was found lurking near the city walls, and the rescue team had brought it here. Pete was fascinated with it. But a few days later, it was moved to the local zoo instead, much to his disappointment.
"George, how many more minutes? I could hear you two talking outside the door. Peter, go back to work," Abram scolded us. He still got the spunk. He was far from retiring, I could tell.
"I didn't shoo away Mr. and Mrs. Pembelton, right? I didn't even come to the office, nor answered their calls. They did walk out on their own, right?" I said in almost a whisper, worried.
"No, you did not do anything wrong yesterday. You even headed straight to here from your graduation. It was a benevolent act," Pete answered, obviously teasing me.
"Oh, because wasted the night away somewhere else last year?" I said back. Hannah, Mom no. 2, and I barely had enough to last a day. So even if she wanted to get me something yesterday, she couldn't afford it. I just told her that I would go to the shelter for my shift. It was enough that she came to my graduation.
"I'm sometimes afraid of all the things you know about me," Pete replied.
"And I use this knowledge to blackmail you all the time. You did realize, right?"
Pete laughed. "I don't even know why we're friends. It's one of the errors of humanity."
"We have no choice. It's like everywhere we turn, we see each other," I said, pointing to the small corridors of the shelter.
"I'm cursed by you. But is Hannah's job going steady these days?" asked Pete, as he was standing near the back door with the mop and bucket.
"Not really. It turns out that people don't wash their clothes anymore. She's given three days a week," I answered, taking a breath. "Not enough income to feed two people. Dad's still a goner, as usual."
"Peter, get back to work. Now!" Abram shouted from inside his office.
Double yikes.
Pete headed outside the door, after throwing me a quick apologetic look. I stood in front of Abram's door for a moment, completely immobile. Abram didn't call anyone in his office for no reason.
Last time, around a year ago, Pete and I were both called in by him. Abram gave us a suspension, because we didn't remember to check the locks of the cats' cages. There were always too many of them. Abram saw Cat no. 345 walking around near his house. He was so angry that he had instantly sent both of us back home and told us to wait for his call. It took him a week before he had called us back.
With a deep breath, I bit the corner of my mouth and dug my forefinger's nail to the side of my thumb. Opening the door, I said, "Yes?"
Abram was looking outside the window. At Pete, to be exact. Pete was trying to contain the dogs that were excitedly playing in the backyard. Then old man turned around and faced me. "Take a seat, George."
I uncomfortably found my way to one of the chairs in front of his desk. "Is there a problem, Abram? Did I do something? Anything? Thing?"
"There is something I have to tell you." Abram took a deep breath. He looked as tight as I was. I could even count the lines on his face.
"Some... thing?" I tried saying again.
"The truth is, George, the fund coming in has been very low this past year," Abram said, meeting my eyes, before turning them away to stare at his clasped hands.
I swallowed.
"I don't want to do this, but getting enough money for all the staff hasn't been easy. I have no choice but to lessen yours and Pete's shifts."
"Lessen? How many days?" We were running on three a week. It was hardly anything.
He shook his head. "One."
"One?" I repeated, a form of denial building up inside me.
"I know I'm putting you in a tight spot. I won't have a say if you will find another part time job. As of the moment, I'm trying to get enough funds. When we do have enough, I promise to take you and Pete again if you still want to work here," Abram told me.
"Of course, we want to," I assured him. I'd seen this coming multiple times. The money would run out at any time. The adoptions were low compared to the ones coming in on a daily basis.
"I'm sorry, George. I know you need this job more than anything," Abram said.
"I do," I said with a mouthful, looking at my hands. "I couldn't just imagine working anywhere else but here. But I do understand, Abram. I do. I just... I'll think of something else. I'll figure it out, no worry."
"I know some stores who take in part-timers. I'll try to ask around and help you find another job," he added.
"Gee... thanks." I was touched.
"Well, as for our Peter, he doesn't need the money. Lucky fellow. He's back to volunteering again," Abram informed me.
I nodded. "He's that guy. But I'll continue hanging around here while I find a job, too. If it's all right with you, that is."
"You know I'll never say no to that. I love seeing you here," he said, relaxing in his seat. When he'd noticed the clock, he asked me, "Hey, aren't you supposed to be back home for lunch?"
I grimaced. "I feel tired just by thinking about going back home. The entire city's in absolute chaos."
"Chaos?" Curiosity flickered in old man's voice.
"The princess search," I answered, breathing heavily. "Everyone's showing their mad love for the younger prince. Walking down the streets is one big problem right now."
"Does it start today?" Abram picked up his reading glasses and looked at the calendar.
"Next day," I answered. It was all in the flyer. "Runs for almost three weeks."
"Do you...?" Abram paused, looking at me. "You're of age. I mean, with what I just told you and..."
"No." I narrowed my eyes in disbelief, reading his thoughts.
"Never mind," Abram said, laughing a bit at what he came up with. "My thoughts are quite next to impossible."
I held my hands up. "Seventeen here, but I have no plan to be part of the princess search."
"From what I heard, the pay is high. It works on an hourly basis," Abram intelligently calculated the pros.
"Not happening. I won't even step foot there even if it's the last option I have," I replied. Princesses didn't chew gums. They didn't walk like a thug. All they did was keep a tiara rightfully in place and look extremely gorgeous with bed hair. That was far from being achievable on my part. It was, like, I had to be born again with a different set of DNA.
"If you end up being the princess, you don't have to worry about anything," Abram said, tempting me. "You can help your parents, too. Isn't that what you wanted?"
"Which of them? The panel will put a huge X mark on my paper if they'd get to see my background," I told him.
"What's wrong with your background?" a voice said from behind me.
"Oh, creep!" I was so startled that I felt my heart beating like it was its last. Turning around, I saw Pete standing right behind me, looking curious.
"Hey, Georgey," Pete said, innocently waving a hand.
"Let's watch the news," Abram suggested, looking for the remote. "George here seems to be frightened by the thought. And before I forget, The Eagles are playing today."
"I'm walking out," I said, heading for the door. But when the TV clicked on, it was the same time I heard the sound of the younger prince speaking in public.
And nobody changed the channel.
"You're going to turn around, I know," Pete quietly guessed. He clearly saw me pause from reaching for the door knob.
Busted.
And even though it was completely upsetting, I did turn around, eyes locking on the silver screen. "Just for a moment. I'm curious with what he's going to say."
"The panel interviews will be held from eight in the morning to five in the afternoon. It will run for eighteen days after the distribution of forms. It's up to you," the prince looked right at the camera, pausing for a second. Very sleek hair today, I noticed. Like every strand was pulled back to absolute daintiness. I felt something revolting inside me. Then he smirked and continued, "to do your absolute best to please the panel and get their highest scores. For those who will be getting a mark higher than eight, you will proceed to the final evaluation. The final evaluation will determine who will be the princess-in-training. Of course, there had been instances when the princess-in-training had failed to fulfill her duties, and because of that, as tradition goes, there would be three more beautiful ladies ranked accordingly. Runner-ups, as we call them. If the princess-in-training gets disqualified, the first runner-up will take her place, and so on."
"What is this? A beauty pageant?" I said, baffled.
"Shh," the other two both said at the same time.
"I wish all of you girls the best. I'm fully aware that you're all aiming for my heart, so good luck! I'm going to see you..." said the prince, pausing, again. That you had such a bad effect on me. I felt myself holding my breath with the way he said it and the way he stared. "...there, my princess."
I heard a shriek outside.
"Donna," we all said at the same time. She was also one of the volunteers here. I had no idea that she had a portable TV with her.
Then old man flipped the channel to Sports TV. "I guess that's that. Still not shaken, George?"
"As if." Lie. It felt like the you would be forever stuck in my head.
"What if you try, George? I'm serious. It will solve everything. And I get to be friends with a royalty," Pete said, elbowing me.
"Stop it. Not happening," I said. But I felt that flyer inside the pocket of my jeans. It was as if the flyer was muddling my thoughts. I should have had gotten rid of it when I still could. Now it was like haunting part of me.
Of my jeans, to be exact.
"Just what if?" Pete asked again. "There's nothing to lose but to gain."
"I don't even want to give it a shot, okay? I'm not going to wreck the peacefulness of the Royal's world by making a scandalous appearance," I explained, getting worked up.
"There's nothing wrong with you, and believe me when I tell you that," Pete told me in a sincere voice that instantly made me shut up in my place.
"Well... I don't know. And who wants to be a princess and put on a charade forever?" I asked him. "Do you? Just say you were a girl and you were in my place, do you?"
"I don't think all princesses put on a charade. Some live true to themselves. It's up to you to be who you want to be," Pete said in return.
"Well, I still don't believe that those girls can sincerely carry that level of finesse all the time. How is that even possible?" I asked them, looking from old man to Pete. "It's unbelievable that one person can be that faultless."
"You know, some of them are being trained ever since they were born that they're able to reach a state close to perfection," Abram explained.
"Since they were born?" I echoed.
"To tell you two the truth, Peter here was expected to be a girl by his mother. She prayed so hard that it was like she was hit by thunder right on the head when her earnest plea didn't come true. You know that Peter's mother is a fashion designer. She wanted nothing but for her child to be the next princess. Believe it or not, my daughter had designed outfits that Peter would wear supposedly when he would go to the first interview, to the final interview, and a gown when he would meet the prince in person," Abram went on.
I gawked. "No way."
"Come again, grandpops?" Pete was speechless.
"It's the secret behind your birth, my boy," Abram patted Pete's back. And then he walked out of the room, saying, "She'll never tell, though."
"I was made to be..." Peter's eyes unbelievingly stared at the TV, which was now highlighting a fine kick that landed a goal for The Eagle's team, our favorite. "...that person's 'bride'?"
"You know, I'm right here if ever you need a shoulder to cry on. It's hard to accept that you're in this world just for that person. Don't hate your mom, though. Every girl, believe me, has it bad for the princess status. It's very normal. Just go to Central Park and you'll see the evidence," I encouragingly told him.
"My mother did that before? I can't believe it," said Pete, holding his breath in anger.
"Yeah, we all have secrets," I said, trying not to laugh.
"I'm going to talk to my mother," Pete decided. "I'll see you around, George."
"Yeah, sure. See you when I see you," I said, waving a hand. "Be a good boy."
And before I knew it, Pete grabbed his bag and went home. I was left alone in Abram's small office. The flyer inside my pocket seemed to be alive. It was as if I could hear it beating steadily.
Try me.
Pick me
Read me.
"Get lost, will you?" I said to the flyer, which, I fully knew, was an odd thing to do.
And like Pete did, I turned back and stared at the TV. The Eagles' ace player was trying to steal the ball from the opposing team. Truth was, I wasn't comfortable with these kind of competitions. Trying to press someone down just to get up, that wasn't the kind of set-up I wanted to be caught in.
But a voice inside me said that this search was not like that. You would be judged by the panel by your qualifications. It was like a job interview. In the end, if you were fit for the job, you would get it. If you were not, you wouldn't.
You, I heard the younger prince's voice ringing in my head. I shuddered, holding my arms. I was positive that he didn't mean me. Looking from head to toe, yes, it couldn't possibly be me. But what was there to lose, after all? Like what Abram had said, it was a fine job. It was a chance. This was even Pete's mom's dream. It was a dream that never came true on her part.
And I had this freaking chance.
"Okay, I'll make a bet with you," I was saying to the TV, to the guy, Victhur Arzen, The Eagle's star. "If I don't get a job until the last day of the distribution of forms, I'll go and submit one. But if I do, you have to be easy on me and make me feel less guilty for 'not giving it a chance', like they're all saying, all right?"
Victhur Arzen made a goal. He leapt in the air, screaming, "Yes!"
Right. He didn't have to answer me that way, though.
And The Eagles won the game.