5th ♕
"Here's your dog, Your Highness." I held out the leash to him, waiting for him to take it. He only looked at me, not saying a word and seemingly amused. It was probably directed towards my sudden courteousness, which was vastly different to what had happened in this same place earlier today.
If I had found it hard to look him in the eye earlier, I find it even more difficult after he had told me that I had passed the initial interview, which I highly doubted. I didn't know him well enough to promptly discern whether he was only bluffing or was actually telling me the truth.
But I also wanted to confirm it, since it was starting to bother me ever. Honestly speaking, if I didn't want that part-time job, I wouldn't show my face there.
So grabbing a piece of scratch paper and the pen that was still located on the information desk, I wrote down: should I believe you? or are you just messing up with me? seriously.
He took the pen from me. Seriously.
how? when? WHY? as if! blah..
George—the panel head—deeply favored you. I saw your test scores after the interview. You were the only one to whom he had given a perfect ten. It was a consistent three for the others. But I shouldn't be telling you this. It's highly classified information, no?
gee... too bad, I can't undo reading and knowing it..
Ha. Ha. I have to go, or I'll be late for dinner. My mother won't be thrilled. You'll know why if you somehow manage to be the next princess-in-training and meet her.
& see that you already lost your head. she'd be devastated! P.s. i can't be the next princess in training..
Why will I lose my head again?
cause this is highly classified information and we're both going to be beheaded in the plaza
Well, that's an interesting proposition. Haha. And who knows? You convinced the other George.
right
Don't be so hard on yourself. Being different isn't that unappealing. And it's an open chance. It's a fair game.
says the one behind the one-way glass. what are you doing there, anyway? you also give scores?
He didn't write back.
what? tell me. since we're both going to be beheaded, anyway. doomed.. and whatever.
If you happen to get the top spot, I'll tell you.
OK, I get it. i'll just tell them that I plan to rob the palace if they won't choose me. and p.s. I will also burn it to ashes after. don't you think they'll feel threatened enough? i'm pretty convincing when I say these things.
Top spot. That's the deal.
you know what? forget it... i'm not interested in knowing. what's the use?
Are you sure about that?
certain. and I'll just be showing these papers to the panel, or... I don't know, the guards? they'll be thrilled to know that you're giving away 'classified information'.
You won't.
wait, the paparazzis will be very happy to have these in their hands. change of plans, I'll just give it to them. Sell it!
"And that's why I'm taking it with me." Prince Arthur grabbed the papers on the desk and folded it to fit in his pocket.
"That's so unfair," I said. It was my trump card.
Abram swiveled his chair to look at us. "Is everything okay?"
"Whoa... I'm not murdering him in broad daylight," I replied defensively, holding my hands up.
"I was just saying my goodbye to George," Prince Arthur said. He turned his head to face me. "Thank you for taking good care of Hero, George."
"You're most definitely welcome, Your Highness," I replied. Abram stared at me in disbelief. Well, even a few hours could change the revolution of the world. "I know. I'm being very polite right now, Abram. You should be proud of me."
"How did you find out?" Abram asked me.
"So and so."
"She finally decided to read the papers," Prince Arthur suggested.
"Ha... ha..." Or I went to the princess search and surprisingly found out that he was part of the panel. And that he was the prince of the kingdom.
Too bad, the joke was on me.
"Thanks for the help, Abram." His stare then grazed on me. "And George, thank you for not leaving Hero without company. You know, most girls have tried out for the search. I applaud the fact that you seemed to be very dedicated on being a volunteer. You didn't go there because you had an obligation, right from the moment you had told me that I should specify your name."
"That was a very long praise, Your Highness. I don't know if I deserve any of it, but you should save some of those for later. It would make a nice speech."
"You'll never know. Maybe you'll get to hear it again," Prince Arthur replied.
I felt that tiniest, out of place movement revolt inside me. With a dismissive shrug, I said, "Probably on national television."
He smiled. "What do I know? Surprises happen, no?"
"Like someone you thought was blind, suddenly... Man, you even thought he must have smelled your scent, and then, it turned out that he was just wearing sunglasses. I didn't know sunglasses could create zero visibility."
"George!" old man scolded me again.
"Careful with your blood pressure, Abram," I reminded him.
"Apologize right now," Abram ordered.
I took a deep breath. "My deepest apologies, sir."
"Apology accepted," he replied. "It was also partly my fault. I apologize as well. I'd love to stay here and have a chat, but I should go. Family dinner. Being part of the panel was not as easy as I'd imagined it to be. I got to hear everything—from passionate poems, opera songs, and some bold words I never thought was possible hearing in that situation."
"It must have been truly interesting, Your Highness," Abram said, incredulously calmer towards him. "Did you enjoy it?"
"I did, especially the last one. You should see the footage. They're working on it for the seven o'clock news."
I was stunned. "News?"
"Don't tell me that you haven't seen one, no? I'm sure you'll find the news very interesting tonight, George." Prince Arthur was grinning, smirking, and having the time of his life.
"Not really anticipating it every night." Our house had no electric power as of the moment.
"You'll also get to hear the names of the final candidates," Prince Arthur added.
"Really? Sounds mind-blowing." No. What if I would be included on that footage? Why didn't I think that the search—of course—would be televised?
"I have to go now. My mother also wanted to watch it with me." Prince Arthur gave old man and I a polite smile, before he headed off his way.
"I'll finish up with my work and go home early," I told Abram after Prince Arthur had left.
"You're doing volunteer work today, so it's fine with me. Are you also excited to see the news?" Abram asked me.
"Who know? Maybe I've decided to join the club. With all his glorious presence, the prince have lured me to his side," I said the words as if I was talking to the wind.
"You should have joined. The royals could use a bit of your absurdity." Abram laughed.
Ha.
"Their lives are interesting enough, believe it or not." In fact, they sometimes wandered around the city like a blind dude with a guide dog.
"Go and finish your work so that you can leave early," Abram said.
And so that I could barricade our home, in preparation for the seven o'clock news. What would Mom no. 2 say? Even though I didn't have her genes, I shared that lack of passion she had for royalty-related things. How did I end up worrying about things like this?
♔~♕
"George!" A little before eight in the morning, I heard a incessant knock on our door. Mom no. 2 had already left earlier this morning to go to work. I didn't leave the house, for the reason that I was afraid of the news that I didn't even get the chance to hear.
Funny, right?
"George!" the urgent call continued.
"Coming! Who's there—" I opened the door, forgetting that I might be squished back inside the house by thousands of people. The consequence of being in the news. What else could be the reason? Maybe Prince Arthur was telling me the truth yesterday. "What the... get off me. Hey, why... don't you all come inside."
"Where's our princess?"
"I need to have the first look."
"Where is she?"
"Where is George?"
"Down here..." I muttered, trying to move away from the garment hanger stand filled with clothes. The same thing that had pushed me to the corner of the house.
"Georgiette! What are you doing there? Help her. We have to save the basics. No scratch on her face, or I'll fire all of you right at this moment," Pete's mother said.
"What are you doing here?" I asked Lenora, as they—the ones I thought were thousands, then trimmed to five—helped me get off the hangers.
"I saw the news. Why didn't you tell me? What you had worn yesterday was ridiculous," Lenora scolded me.
"Sorry. I meant to keep it a secret?"
"What's happening here? Mom, you said that you'd only take a look at her. What are these?" I heard Pete's voice somewhere. He was probably at the front door, because someone just closed it. "Georgey, are you in here?"
"With the hangers. It's fun hanging out with them. Seems friendly." I pulled away the two hangers that got tangled in my hair.
"I'll take that." One of Lenora's assistants came to my rescue.
"Thanks," I muttered. Then to Lenora, I asked, "What is all this?"
"Hmm... since Papa already told you everything, you have to know that I must be your stylist no matter what. Now what should I do about you, George?" Lenora said to me.
"About what? What's with being my stylist?" I only volunteered at the animal shelter. The dogs and cats couldn't care less what I was wearing.
"You've made it to the top ten. Didn't you know?" Lenora asked.
"We have no electric power. I'm not aware that they've made a mistake with my score," I answered. So he was really telling me the truth. I had made it to the final interview. Lenora was here, and it would only be for something important and worth her precious time. Lenora was a very busy person, being Triavia's most prominent and sought-for designer. She'd never waste this much time and effort for nothing.
"You were horrible. From the way you talked to the way you dressed, there was nothing impressive. But for some reason, they liked your answer, my dear. And that's why I'm here. I'm here to give you a heads up and make sure that you'll be the next princess," Lenora explained to me, hands on her hips.
Everyone in our tiny living/dining room nodded.
"Why is it so hot in here?" one of Lenora's assistants asked.
"Sorry about that. You can grab some kind of fan there, if you want. I can't really fan all of you at the same time," I replied.
Lenora dialed a number on her phone. "Yes, Ronny. Can you do me a favor and send someone here to get back the electricity? 817 Nichols Street. Yes, please do it fast. I'll take care of the bills later."
"But, Lenora..." I muttered, not even sure of what to say.
"Don't put on that face, my dear. I need you to win. Having electricity in your house is a must for you to get a beauty sleep," she replied.
"Beauty sleep?"
"You're not the type who'll win just because, so we need all the help we could get our hands on. The fan, Lisbeth. Get me a fan right now," she said to one of her stylists. While Lisbeth was fanning her face, Lenora moved closer to me. "Take off your clothes. I need to see what I have to work on."
"What?" I blushed. Surely not expecting to hear that one.
"Peter, get out of here. I know you heard me," Lenora instructed. "Females only."
"Of course." Pete appeared behind another set of garment stands that squeezed their way inside our house. "Congrats, Georgey. Now you're off to being my mom's experiment. And just to inform you, she had pulled out all the clothes she wanted me to wear for the interviews if I had ended up being a girl and pulled out a stunt like yours. There are so many that you'll literally drown in them. I'm glad I didn't have to be in your place."
"You're not helping," I told him.
"Out now, Georgey." Pete laughed. "I can't wait to see what they'll come up with."
"Move faster, Peter. We only have less than a week until the final interview. George needs more than a year. So we have to work," Lenora stressed out. When Pete closed the door behind him and I was left with his mom and five of her assistants, I saw my fairy godmother appearing right in front of me.
She started waving her wand, as she pronounced my death wish. "Turn around."
"I'm not sure if I still want to do this." I kept my hands all over my body. What part should I cover?
"Nonsense," Lenora said. "You're just in your underwear, which is very unappealing. They don't even match. And you're wearing a sports bra, for the sake of—"
"It's more comfortable," I replied, shrugging.
"You need to change that. Get her size." Lie-Ann held my hair. "Lavish brunette locks that got destroyed by time. This needs haircut."
"No. I'm not going to cut it!" I protested, pulling it back from her hands.
"Relax, it's just a trim. There are too many split ends," she told me, flicking my hand.
"Fine."
"Okay, two inches. Is that all right?" Lenora asked me.
"Mid-waist is okay, but nothing shorter than that." My current back-up plan was to, still, sell my hair later. I needed every means of getting an income.
"We just have to get rid of the split ends. I have shampoos in that one case, body wash, conditioner, and everything. Use it. It's an order," Lenora told me. "My assistants will instruct you."
"Okay." Hey, it was a free toiletries. I wouldn't say no to that.
"She has a nice figure," Lenora's assistant said. I looked at her, wondering what the hell was she talking about. She smiled at me. "It's Famy, my name."
"Hi," I replied. The five of them pretty much looked the same to me. Straight black hairs and same color of clothes, only in different styles. This was probably a dream, and we were all in an action movie.
"34-25-35. Pretty skinny. 170 cm. Long and very well-toned legs, I wonder where she got that. Mini dress would look lovely on her. And shoe size." Famy lifted my feet and put on several shoes. "Seven."
"Perfect. I expected Pete to be of the same built, only he turned out to be a boy. Taller. I was the same figure as George when I was a teenager," Lenora answered. "That running paid off. Pete and her were on the track team in high school."
"Explained a lot about her legs," Famy said. She grimaced. "It needs shaving, though."
"Why would you shave my legs?" I exclaimed. Shaving my underarms, I was aware of. But the legs? What for?
"Wax it instead," Lenora said.
"What's a wax?"
"Be brave, George," Famy replied.
"You'll find out soon. So going back, four-inch heels will be a good start so that you could easily reach Prince Arthur's eye level." Lenora carefully examined me. After a while, took off her coat. She was as slim as she said she was during her teenage days. Her black curls fell perfectly above on her shoulders.
"Why should I?" I asked.
"Eye contact is very important," Lenora told me, as someone pushed me down to a chair.
Then that same person had put on a black cape around me. She started to clip my hair after. I asked, "A haircut, while I'm in my underwear?"
"Don't complain, George. Do your thing, Jen. Thanks to her father, she got good genes," Lenora went on. She had met my dad once, after dropping me back home when I had ran away and camped at their house.
Lenora stayed silent while I was getting my hair trimmed. She took a seat on a chair and her assistants pulled out a variety of dresses. Three of her assistants were helping her choose and jotting them down on a notebook. Two were working on me. Mom no. 2 would freak out if she'd see this.
After an hour, the stylists were done with me. As said, my hair was a bit shorter than before and my eyebrows had received a painful threading. I had shed tears when they had waxed my legs. It was unusual not to. There was paint on each of my nails, which was also a first for me.
After everything I went through this morning, I was suddenly determined to get the job of the princess-in -training.
"You should stop chewing gums. It's the only thing I found in your bag," Lenora told me.
"I have a face towel there and bottled water," I replied.
"Also," she said, pointing to my legs, "stop shaking your legs when you're sitting."
I steadied my legs. "Roger that. Is there anything else on the list?"
"Don't roger me. Say, 'Yes, I understand, ma'am.'"
"Does it really have to be that long?"
"Try it," Lenora said. "You have to be courteous."
"Yes, I understand, ma'am," I repeated her words.
"Good," Lenora said in approval. "You have to learn a lot from now on. This is nothing compared to what they'll make you do if you happen, let's just say that some kind of miracle occur, to be the next princess-in-training."
♔~♕
"What's with this dress?" I pulled the sleeves up. I still couldn't figure out how I was supposed to wear it. Lenora had left me with a dozen of dresses she had told me to try on. The goal was to pick which one I'd like the most. The amount filled three-quarters of my room. I was trying to have a life with the remaining portion.
"George? Are you in your room?" Mom no. 2 asked.
"Mom?" I didn't realize she was home. Even with all the commotion Lenora and her team did, I had managed to perfectly put everything back in place. The only odd thing Mom no. 2 might be puzzled about was the sudden electric power circling the house again. Tired and exhausted from everything I did this morning, I still hadn't thought of an excuse.
Or maybe should just come up clean and tell her what I was up to.
"George? Did you pay our bill?" she asked.
"I... I'll be out... one sec, Mom." I was near ripping the piece of cloth that wrapped my body, almost choking me.
"What's going on?" Her voice was getting nearer. I accidentally tripped over the freaking dress and slipped on the floor. The door opened, and I saw her wearing her We Clean It Right! uniform, incredulously looking around my room. "George?"
"Hey, Mom." Nice to see you while I was sweeping the floor with my body. Easier done this way.
She lowered her gaze and saw me. "What the hell is going on here?"