How To Win A Crown
Error 418
This was not good. Not good at all. Her eyes scanned the crowd of girls and boys, sitting around, talking. She wasn't a camera; she didn't have code helping her find the smallest errors in this image. She couldn't tell what to do.
This wasn't code.
There was no compiling error to hint what was wrong.
"Roku, nana, hachi, kyuu…" Mimi had long forgotten that she was muttering numbers as she tore leaves out of the daisy's flower crown. Nobody noticed. If even, they'd think she was playing a silly game. Mimi loved games. More than anything, simply because games meant no loss. In a game, there was nothing to lose.
She refused to give the letter on her lap any form of response. This was no game.
Without Kyle, she was alone, but Mimi didn't particularly pay attention to this right now. She glanced at the crowd of girls and boys, in beautiful clothes, discussing things and what not over coffee and cake. None of the royals were present, thank god.
She remembered Kyle's message from this morning very well. He was still grumpy, he still refused to discuss anything but business. He felt betrayed. His crush had been obvious, but even love did not justify such a reaction. It had been embarrassing, Misa had told her, when she had heard of it. Fortunately, the public hadn't gotten wind of it.
The letter on her lap was from Misa as well. It was written in English, for the sake of logic. Why would Misa speak the tongue of Mimi's homeland with her? Not only did she not speak it fluently, the letters probably were read by the security.
Mimi had shut down any attempts in her father communicating with her in that language before they happened. She wished dearly to speak to them without such concerns, but it was too dangerous.
She didn't want to wreak havoc if she didn't need to.
"Dear Mimi," the letter began, "home is as usual. We've finally found somebody trustworthy to repair the roof. Kyle helped us; I cannot help but be glad that he's back home. He seems quite concerned though, but onto that later."
All of her step-sister's letters began with an update on the hole in their roof. For the past weeks, they had struggled to find somebody trustworthy—too many people wanted to sack the money of the family of one of the Selected.
Mimi never expected that to be an issue.
"The price we got is decent too," Misa wrote," although I feel like we are in a disadvantage when bargaining. Mum is doing her best, but everybody suddenly assumes we have endless wealth." Oh, little did she know. "I am concerned, because they decided to go with this one without bargaining more. We cannot just spend the money freely. How are you doing, sweetie?"
Mimi lowered her eyes, remembering all the secret bank accounts and money laundry she had hidden all over the internet. If she just clicked a few boxes and typed a few words, the family would be free of worries about a broken roof, rain coming in and lack of dinner. Even if the Selection compensated them well, it was only for so long until Mimi would inevitably leave.
She never had made herself hopes, of course. Hope was futile. Hope was a concept of human naiveté.
Besides, god forbid, she would not resort to illegal methods until it was too late. She would not dishonour her family. Never. Mimi clutched the dairy, smashing the little plant in the process. She did not care. Life was just as futile as hope.
"Mum and Daisuke—" the letter continued on, but Mimi stopped.
Daisuke. Not Daniel. Daisuke. Mimi's head darted up towards the other Selected, in groups and talking. Brendan and Kara—one of the few Selected she knew by name not because she had learned them but because of their reputation—were cracking up in the corner, not too far away. Some boys were talking, Kira was reading a book on mythology. Right. The ball. Fun.
Did anyone know? Did the security notice? Did they assume he was someone else? Had they given up on reading her letters? She made a mental note to check their archives later—she couldn't just leave now; it'd be too obvious. Mimi was glad that she could use their lessons and studying as excuse for using a laptop (god forbid that she had to sit through these lessons—she was a fast learner and the constant repetition was a nightmare), but that went only that far.
Thinking of that, she looked to asocial.
But who was there to talk to? Naïve people, dreamy lovers and possible talkers.
Oh, that and the salt mates.
"They probably would be the only choice," she thought with a frown, before remembering the certain footage of Kara and Ray, she had seen. Such a disappointment; she had thought more of Kara but to just give in to the patriarchal monarchy.
"They are doing well," she completed the sentence, reading slowly in her mind. Was Julia, her step-mother, still struggling with her occupation? She worked as cook, but that was the highest she could get, and she wasn't paid well. "They discussed caste changes again—for the first time in years, if you remember—but they agree that the money is better somewhere else. We cannot be sure if we can afford it without risking debts, and we cannot know if it'll be a profit. I pRay that we will find a middle way."
Pray. Her faith, of course. It probably was the only thing that kept Misa from realising the entirety of their world's grimness. Misa went on about her twins, on how they were doing and how jealous both were. They dreamed of being Twos, just like Julia wished to be a Four. One would be a great politician, one would be a great athlete, Mimi thought, but she knew that they'd never be.
Maybe she could blackmail Brendan into something. Who knew, she didn't know his files by heart.
At least little Misaki Marie, going by what was written in the letter, was doing somewhat well. One good news in a letter of bad ones. Misa continued to disclose a secret that Mimi didn't want in the letter either. "I am afraid that I saw dad with bottles again. I am no child; I know it's alcohol, and I think that some money has gone missing again. When you left, it got better. When you left, he seemed to gain faith again, but he's fallen back into the melancholy we know too well. Mimi, I wish you were here to help him. He's thinking about Misaki again."
The letter continued with a few other things, it included sweet drawings from little Misaki and the twins' encouragement. They were still dreaming, evidently. Mimi didn't want them to volunteer for the military as they secretly planned.
They'd die.
Mimi had seen the statistics.
"Obviously," she thought to herself, "I'd place them somewhere safe, but still…"
She shook her head, folded the piece of paper, and slipped it into her bra. Later, she promised herself. Maybe she could tweak some bank account numbers just a little bit, just so that they'd be safe during the repair.
She rose. She truly knew about how bad it looked for her to be alone, especially when she said that she wanted to stay. She began walking towards the little table with lemon cake, taking a plate and one of them. Maybe she could join Miri or Evie? Kenna? The boys?
The sweet-bitterness of the cake made her want to gag. She dropped the plate, with a cake mostly untouched, back onto the table. What a waste, but she couldn't. Mimi struggled to get this little piece down.
It tasted wonderful.
That was the issue.
The goddamn issue.
"What a waste of cake," Kara Donato comment. She had added one and two together, Mimi assumed, and understood that Mimi wouldn't finish it. "Not good enough?"
Something in her wanted to shush Kara, reminding her of the things she knew, but she didn't. "Never show your cards," she reminded herself. She cursed herself too. How would that look? Ungrateful, impolite, not like the sweet, cake-loving sugary cute shoujo protagonist she was trying to fake!
Then again, it was Kara, with Brendan in company. Brendan had, miraculously, not been arrested for lèse-majesté yet, so that was a feat. Maybe Ray liked them. She remembered the old images of Endra and Ray Schreave sneaking off to one of his concerts.
Stupid, she remembered.
"It doesn't need more salt," she muttered.
Salt Mate Number One frowned. "What?"
"Nothing, nothing," Mimi gave her a sweet smile. "It tastes bitter-sweet, just perfect. Made for kings, of course. We should be overjoyed to be able to enjoy such things as mere—" She wanted to say mortals. "—peasants." She wasn't a mortal. RIVER wasn't.
Brendan picked up on the underlying irony. It wasn't that bad; even these two should be able to, she told herself. "Well, that's interesting. Not to cheerful today, Mina?"
To be fair, Mimi didn't remember a single conversation worth of notice.
"Tea? Coffee?" she replied, gesturing to the beautiful china on the table.
"I'm not a teapot."
"Truly?" Mimi rose her eyes, faking amazement into her voice. "I am amazed," she added, equally amazed.
To be fair, if it was up to Mimi to decide, without any consequences, she'd be as dry as the Sahara desert.
"Don't they have anything good here?" Kara asked, looking over the table.
"If you're looking for Vodka, no," Mimi replied. She was a good child, of course, and never touched alcohol. God knew how she'd react to it either way; with her father a dry alcoholic, she didn't want to dare.
"Drink?" Brendan assumed. "Alcohol, I mean? We could ask."
"Please no," Mimi muttered, almost laughing.
"Of course, the little sunshine doesn't drink."
"Is your father alcoholic?" Mimi muttered. She needed friends, and if she could be the little sunshine between the salt mates, she'd take it. Better a bad thing than nothing—she wouldn't survive a day between Kira and the girls, talking about how hot Ray Schreave was. "Did your best friend's family mess up thanks to alcohol?"
"Uh, no."
Weird flex, but okay, Mimi thought for him. "How's life."
"As perfect as it can be here," Brendan grinned proudly.
"Sure it it." Mimi rolled her eyes. "Probably not much difference to your usual life," she added salty.
"You'd think that, wouldn't you? It's vastly different, actually," Brendan insisted. "I'm a musician, not a socialite."
Mimi rose her eyebrow. "Such a great difference, yes." She shook her head disappointed. "I'm sure your bank account is suffering greatly." Maybe it would, after today.
"I didn't always have that much money, Mina."
"And in the end of the day, you had enough to buy your way up," she replied, leaning backwards. "In the end, you're doing exactly what they want. It makes no difference if you make some music about how shit life is; believe me. I tried making a difference once. It didn't work, and I didn't just write some poems."
Cue some very long discussion and rants, going on to how messed up Illéa was and why charities were useless, at least in Carolina.
/ / /
Following yet another bunch of repetitive lessons (with one big lecture about writing, caused by Brendan's unreadable 'notes'; probably song lyrics or so), Mimi sat on one of the chairs, nearby Kara and Brendan this time, sipping her tea. She did as told, with the occasional genuine mistake, but was much more interested in the discussion between these two. Kara was telling stories from work.
Being a waiter herself, she could understand her all too well.
From time to time, she slipped in a story of herself, talking about the time she worked at a fancy restaurant in the largest city near the Clermont-Carolina border, and how a couple of Fours refused to address them as anything but 'Six'. Not even waiter.
"That's ridiculous," the resident Two commented.
"I know," Mimi agreed. "Sometimes, I wish I could have called my father and ask him to shut down their car. He's a good mechanic, but I don't have a phone."
"Touché."
Mimi remained careful not to speak too much; she pretended to just listen, but she felt some sympathy for the Salt Mates. At least they understood. Five Twos, three Threes, four Fours, One Five, Two Sixes, One Seven. Not even a thought of an Eight. Unless Mimi forgot one of the Selected, the numbers described the royals all too well. Four of the lower castes, out of sixteen. Three quarters. Not one Eight.
Surprisingly, no one had pointed that out yet. Maybe RIVER should, she wondered.
"We are going to one of the music rooms," Brendan pointed out, "after the tea party, I mean. Do you want to come along?"
"No, I'm fine," Mimi replied with a smile. "My family wrote me a letter, and I'd like to respond."
She did genuinely intend to do that, besides a few other things. So, when they were dismissed at last, Mimi excused herself with the truth, and the letter still at her heart. By no means she would let anyone look at what her family had written.
Anything but them.
As she took her sweet time walking on the marble stairs, wishing a bit too much to avoid the other chatting girls, Mimi caught someone's attention. Ray did not catch her attention though, let alone because Mimi was no ninja. She wished, but she wasn't.
"Are you not joining Kara and Brendan?" Ray asked curious. Mimi doubted, after an initial "eep!" of surprise, that he had come past because of anything but chance, and she was glad.
"Ah, no, your highness," she replied, adding a clumsy curtesy. Why couldn't she just bow like the men did? She was much more used to that, even now.
"Where are you heading then?" he asked, presumably genuinely curious. Mimi wasn't good at reading people though, she wouldn't rely on that.
"My sister wrote, and I would like to write a response as soon as possible. I miss them."
"Your sister?" Ray repeated. He looked tired, but that was no surprise. He needed to manage his work better; by no means he would achieve success as he was now. Mimi remembered the notes of the hospital wing that she had tracked after hearing the rumours of the prince fainting.
"Yes, your highness," she nodded energetic. "Misa just finished her training, and she is looking for employment. She has most time to write."
"Training?" Ray repeated, somewhat uncomfortable. Maybe because of the time he threw a volleyball at her?
"Yes, she wishes to become a seamstress. Misa refit most of her old clothes to fit me when I was growing up; I'm quite a bit smaller than her, but it saved money." They still were too large, but at least they covered her petite frame and made it less obvious. These palace maids thought being underweight looked pretty, for some reason.
"Do you have many siblings?"
"One older, three younger siblings, your highness."
"That's a full house!"
Mimi smiled at the memory of the twins and her little half-sister playing. "Yes, it is indeed. Somebody is always up to something. It never gets boring."
"Are you heading to your room?" Ray asked, surprised. She was heading downwards, so no, she wasn't.
"I am heading to the gardens. It's beautiful outside, and I would love to sit outside as I write. I hope that is not an issue?"
Maybe it was. With the royals panicking about the rebels, and the rebels targeting the Selection, it probably wasn't the best idea, but Mimi didn't mind. From what her friends had told her, no attack was planned for today. They were still buzzing about the Let It Go story.
"You would need to be careful," Ray admitted, looking aside. He was worried. Stressed too, probably. Mimi remembered thinking that the king had to be ridiculous for thinking that Ray could handle his work load in a realistic amount of time. She knew that all too well, with her work schedule.
"Careful?" Mimi repeated innocent, despite knowing all too well what he referred to. She made a step away though, hoping to be able to spend the time of this (inevitable) conversation walking. She wanted to save time.
"There's always a possibility of an attack," Ray admitted.
Mimi smiled. "That's fine. I wouldn't be here if I wasn't committed."
"What? Pardon me?"
"It'd be inappropriate to remain here if I was afraid of the rebels," she replied. "They exist, yes, and there's little that can be done against the ideals they hold. It's sad that such a thinking exists." It was sad that people were dying of hunger. "However, it would be naive to participate in the Selection without expecting some form of opposition. It would be inappropriate to stay if one couldn't deal with it." Mimi paused. "Of course, I do not mean to offend anyone," she added hastily, "but I cannot help but... but wonder if such a person would work in your life. There's always danger, isn't it? It's about living with it; you need to be able to do that. Otherwise, life would just be torture."
Sure, she had the advantage of a backdoor, but nonetheless, Mimi was quite confident that otherwise, it'd be the same. She was committed to the Selection in her own way; she wanted the legal money, and she needed it.
If she had to, she'd die for them. Her family. Her everything.
"That is an… surprisingly elaborate view point," Ray admitted hesitant.
"Kyle and I had a lengthy discussion on it," Mimi admitted. "He was rather concerned."
"What is the deal with him?"
"An unrequited crush, I assume?" Mimi shrugged, forgetting to show that cute, innocent and naive shoujo protagonist idea for a mere moment. "Kyle was my closest friend for many years, I didn't notice, unfortunately. I wish I did; I could have told him that I don't feel the same."
"Was your best friend?" Ray repeated.
"I am not…" Mimi looked aside. "I am not entirely sure how to think of him now. Such an outbreak-tantrum-was inadequate."
"Have you remained in contact?" Ray wondered.
Mimi shook her head. "No, we haven't. Misa, that's my older sister, mentioned that his family helped mine to wind someone for the roof, but I'm not sure if he was involved. His sister usually is quite helpful. She knows many people."
Ray nodded, relieved. "That's good. He looks a bit-uh, maybe I shouldn't say that."
"It's fine, your highness. I won't speak to anyone."
No, worst case, she'd just write it down.
"I was concerned he might turn into an issue after that tantrum. A stalker, if you understand."
Mimi nodded slowly. She hadn't thought of that. Kyle could, in many ways, do that. Another mental note, she decided. She needed to check her systems for bugs. Maybe even reboot them entirely, or get a new one. Just to be safe. She was better than Kyle, but only because she was careful.
"I will inform the royal guard if I have any concerns," Mimi promised. She would, if the case arose.
"What's with your roof? Are you rebuilding?"
Mimi tilted her head. "Uh, no, there's a big hole in it, and we need to fix it. It's been broken since a hurricane two years ago, and sometimes, we don't have enough buckets for it. The money your family is providing so generously is very helpful."
"Your… rooftop is broken? Since two years?"
Mimi nodded. "It can get quite cold in the winter; the heating here is amazing! I've never seen that outside work."
"You don't have heating either, huh?"
"It's too expensive to maintain it, unfortunately. We're seven people, and most don't make money, so it's a lot about saving as much as possible."
"But your sister…?"
"She wasn't paid during the training. She'll probably make more once she finds somewhere to work, compared to me, but I'm glad I can help."
"What do you work as, again?"
"I'm a cleaning freelancer and waitress. I work at a restaurant between lunch and the evening as waitress. As for cleaning, I'm working for an agency that's gotten me work at a larger tech company, so it's mainly dust and spilled coffee," Mimi elaborated.
"When do you clean then? In the mornings?"
Mimi chuckled. "Oh, no, people are working during that time! It'd be annoying for them and me. I go in at nighttime. I usually come home around three to four o'clock, and I wake up late."
She did have a break for lunch (mostly unwanted dishes and things that couldn't be sold but were good enough to eat), and she often used that to do work that she'd then run from the company's servers, but yeah. That summarised it up.
"That's a long day."
"You can relate, I assume?"
Ray laughed out, sarcastic. "Oh, yeah, I do."
"Sleep is for the weak," Mimi chuckled. "You need to be careful though; it can be bad for your health."
"I know…" Ray sighed. "But there's too much to do."
"There's only so much a human can do," Mimi warned him. "Is there anything I can help with, maybe?"
Ray hesitated. Mimi obviously knew what he worked on (thank god for printers having no defense here), but she wasn't going to say it out loud. Thinking of it, she probably actually could help. Maybe with economics or so? Numbers were her forte, although she prefered algebra and calculus over statistics. She knew enough about them to be able to read some though…
"I'm not sure if…" He stopped.
The idea evidently sounded good. Less work meant more dating the god-knows-how-many-people-were-left of his harem too, didn't it? Or time to prepare for the ball with Italians? Maybe even time for figuring out what the rebels stole? Mimi knew the files and all, she had heard the discussions through her bugs, but still…
"It's okay, I understand," Mimi replied before he could finish his sentence.
"Well, I assume you don't happen to know much about statistics either way…"
Mimi tilted her head, again. "Hmm… I think I did quite well when we handled that at school." In return, she did fail English and Spanish entirely, alongside round about every subject that wasn't logic based… "I could try, if you give me a chance?"
"I-"
Mimi did not like Ray Schreave's hesitation. She didn't want to push too far; it'd be out of character, but she also didn't find anything else that could help her into this. So she stopped and smiled at him. "Please, don't worry. I was joking. I know that your work is secret."
Ray sighed. "It is, right…"
"I shouldn't bother you any more than I already did, your highness. I am sure you will be busy either way, especially with the Italian delegation visiting."
Ray cringed. "Oh right, I forgot… I still need to figure out the ball things… Are you prepared?" He laughed. What a sweet laugh in between that stress it was.
"I have a vague idea, I admit," Mimi replied, "but I am not entirely sure. I want to draw inspiration from my ancestors; I was thinking of the Japanese sun goddess Amaterasu, but I don't know much. I'd love to look into something based on Italy, but I cannot help but connect Italy to catholicism, and I feel like my sister wouldn't appreciate me using her religion as ball theme so... I'm also worried since everyone seems to be going for Greek mythology…"
"Oh, no," Ray shook his head. "I'm sure it'll be fine. Just talk to the staff. They can do that."
Mimi nodded. "Yes, we had a few conversations, although I'm sure Misa would appreciate them more than I can."
Ray nodded. "Surely… You know, why not. I have only so much time until my next meeting, and even if you're just motivation, it's better than nothing," he decided. "You're good with maths? Then you can run through my calculations."
As response, she gave him a surprised, but delighted smile. "It will be an honour," she announced, and followed the prince to his office. Curious, she inquired more about his plans for the ball-she had revealed her own, after all-and listened to what mountain of work the prince had before him.
Very soon, when they arrived, she didn't only end up with going through his figures, but also looking through military reports. In her chaotic handwriting, she began giving the prince notes on what was recommendable, always writing a little remark that she only knew numbers, not the subject.
"So, I can't know for sure, but this isn't recommendable, if you look at the numbers."
"The loss isn't as high as-" Ray stopped, yawning, when he realised. "But it's human lives." How tired he had to be that he didn't realise, Mimi wondered.
Mimi nodded. "Yes, I have seen many families struggle after they lost the father. They often provide the only source of income, in return for the mothers to care for children. If they lose them, it often ends terribly."
Fortunately-Mimi condemned the mere idea of military-her father had been too old for the draft.
Ray yawned. "Seriously, please don't tell anyone about this though. I'm thankful, but please, don't tell anyone. Especially my dad."
Mimi smiled and winked. "I learned nothing new today." Truth, but he didn't need to know that.
Ray leaned forward onto his desk, disappointed. "I heard these stories," he admitted. "There's so little that can be done though… We do need the troops, but even with women, men and volunteering, we end up having too few, and these have little motivation. There's nothing that can be done."
Mimi nodded hesitant. "I could only think of financial aid for these people," she muttered, remembering the time when she had actually bothered with thinking of legal ways to survive. "However, how do you determine who should have it? Why only the families of fallen soldiers? What about retired soldiers? How much? Where does the money come from?"
Ray yawned again. "I wish people would think that, before they start complaining about these things."
"People don't complain, they just say what is happening, because otherwise, nobody would notice," Mimi thought, but she didn't say that out loud. It wouldn't help Ray, so why bother say it? It'd be a waste of words.
"You could try and stop people from marrying and having a family before the draft," she thought aloud, before realising her mistake. "No, that wouldn't work either…"
"The people should have their right to say on whenever they want that or not," Ray pointed out.
"They don't, to be honest," Mimi replied.
Ray frowned. He looked tired. Really tired. Like she, when she had just realised that the world laid in front of her fingers, just as long as she had a connection and a keyboard. How much had he slept last night? "What do you mean?" he asked her.
"It's nearly impossible to reach means of preventing pregnancies for the poorer people. The upper classes might think abstinence is the right choice, but the poor? It's their only choice if they don't want to risk putting yet another child in a world that can't feed it, and many don't even realise that that's a way. It doesn't work either way."
"Hmm…" Ray nodded. "Go on?" Again, he yawned.
"Am I boring you?" Mimi teased amused.
"No, no, no…" he trailed off, yawning again. "Just tired." The sun was setting outside, yes, but they still had a whole evening, including dinner, in front of them.
Mimi leaned forward. "I, for example, skipped lots of school in favour of working. From what I saw, the sex education was abstinence. and sex makes babies. The teachers are predominantly Threes, they feel like it's the only thing you need, because once you marry, you have everything you need for a child. An environment, and you have the social and financial basis."
"Go on."
"My older sister was the reason her parents married."
"Her?"
"Patchwork family."
"Oh."
"Neither her birth or the twins, or my little sister were planned. All just happened, and no one could stop it. If they really had wanted a child, they'd have nothing stopping them, yes, but there was nothing stopping them from
"Change the education on it? Make contraception methods more available? Make abortion easier? If you're onto it, you probably want to overhaul the whole public sex education. If you look at statistics, straight people are more likely to contract STI, but everyone thinks gay people have aids."
Was that true? She wasn't sure. She had heard it somewhere sometime, maybe connected with the prince's coming out. However, if it helped her appealing for a good cause-stopping people from putting even more innocent children in this terrible world-then she was happy to do that.
At least he seemed thoughtful.
They continued going through the reports and things Ray dealt with, but eventually, after reading the finances about the Selection (very interesting, and god knew how long her family could live merely on the average costs of her clothes), she found that the prince stopped listening. Ray's head had fallen onto the desk at some point, he was sleeping.
Mimi gave him a half-hearted smile, and fished an empty piece of paper from the pile. If they were evidently done, she decided, she could finally do what she planned for the whole day-write to her family.
"Dear Misa," she spoke with herself as she wrote, "please tell everyone that I am very well and happy. I love and miss you all dearly."
She glanced to the sleeping prince. "Please, do look after father. I share your concerns, but I can't think of anything that could help. I am aware that Julia is very busy, and that stressing her out is probably not a good idea, so maybe ask Rose to help you with watching him?"
Rose, Kyle's sister. Right. "Concerning her and the Writers, please, if Kyle does anything, really, tell me. I am concerned about his behaviour when he left the Selection-he seems to be a bit too interested in me, and me staying… I think he did not take that all too well. I'm concerned for you all, although I do know that Kyle isn't the physically strongest.
"For little Misaki, tell her that if she wants to be a princess, she needs to study her maths very hard. I spent the afternoon with him today, helping him with his work. It's lots of statistics and numbers, so maybe you can use that to convince her to study a bit more. It'd be a dream if she could have a scholarship…" Misa didn't need a particular reason on why she was with the prince today. She'd accept it, she wouldn't question it. Now that she thought about, Mimi questioned her motives though. There was nothing to gain, and she could have spent the day outside...
"For the twins, tell them that I love them. I hope they do know that I don't want them to die as soldiers. It's dangerous nowadays." She couldn't say more without risking trouble for revealing about the attacks. She did not want to risk anything. "I am happy to stay here though. I hope you can fix the roof too. I am thinking of asking if somebody can lend me a camera and develop photos, so I can show you. The palace gardens are magnificent, and I love my room here.
I hope you do well. Lots of love, Mimi."
She wasn't sure if Ray had listened to her. Maybe he had, maybe he didn't. Strangely, Mimi didn't mind.
One more time, she looked at the letter, still hidden in her bra,, and the little writing scribbled onto the back. A note said it was a reading exercise—her father was teaching her his mother tongue or something—but she knew better. Even if Mimi could read only little of her mother tongue, she understood this just fine.
"No, she's not," Mimi muttered. "No, she's not."