My name is Katherine Leonora Giles. You can call me Kate. My mother's name is Sandra Giles. I'm seventeen years old. My mother is just an ordinary, yet extraordinary waitress, struggling to get by, and doing a hell of a job. But you probably know of my mother as the king's mistress, and me as their scandalous lovechild. That's true, but that's probably as much as you know about any of this. What lies beneath is everything I thought we were, and everything we're about to become. The thing is, now that it's been discovered that I am the king's fifth and youngest daughter, regardless of who my mother is, I am now another rightful heir to the throne.

What the hell?

My seventeenth birthday started out just like any other. I woke up to my alarm screaming at me at 6:30 AM. Mom was already gone working third shift at Ferdy's (the owner's name is Ferdinand, okay?). I knew she wouldn't get home until 8:00, when school starts each day. I stuffed my books and binders into my backpack, threw on my boho style clothes that apparently made everybody at school want to know how to dress like me. Evidently people thought I dressed like this on purpose, carefully planning the look to appear breezy and carefree, instead of it being because I just didn't care, slapped on the nearest thing in my closet, and pulled it off by sheer luck. I was the artsy one with good taste. The truth is, I just picked things that yes, I liked, and yes, weren't hideous, but I just felt were comfortable and well, me. I always supposed that was why the look worked so well, but honestly, fashion just wasn't my area of interest. I liked books and cooking.

Classes were just like any other, too- advanced classes, a clear path to college, and all good marks. No. Excellent marks. Doing well in school was pretty much my life. I went to classes, excelled, came home, read, and when I had free time I hung out with my best friend, Gina. My mom and I had a very close relationship, but she had to work a lot. I was relieved that she had varying schedules, so I knew that there were days she'd be home during the afternoons when I got out of school. I know this was not as great for her. She didn't have a consistent sleep schedule, and hated working weird hours when she had third shift hours. It's not that I liked that she had such a crazy work schedule, or that she often had to pick up available hours to make more money. I didn't like that she had no health insurance through work and had to pay for her own plan. I didn't like that her highest aspirations for herself had been given up on years ago for a waitressing job just to make ends meet to care for me. I just liked that there were days that I could see her. It just seemed as though she'd given up on herself years ago so that she could never give up on me. It's as though it hadn't occurred to her that she could still care about herself. That part broke my heart. I had always hoped that perhaps once I moved out, got a degree, and became self-sufficient, that she'd finally give herself a little room to breathe, and to have goals, dreams, and interests again.

Though my mom had worked the graveyard shift this time, I would not see her this afternoon. I had an interview for an internship of a political nature in the city, so I'd be taking the bus after school to get there. My interview was at 4:00, and school got out at 2:30, so I had some time to take a look around and maybe grab a coffee before changing into my nicer clothes and going to my interview. Though I would not know this at the time that I met her, this would be the afternoon that I met the youngest of my four older half-siblings, Lucy. After perusing the travel section at my favorite used book store in the city, Secondhand Nature, I settled on a few books about Paris, made my purchase, and headed over to Cappuccino's Off To You for a Macchiato to thumb through a few pages one of my travel books. Quite honestly, the prospect of travelling to Paris began to depress me, as I knew that would not be an option for quite a while. I'd be lucky to make it into college with under 60 grand in debt by the time I graduated at the end of four years. I put the book away into my bag dejectedly, and pulled out the cookbook I'd purchased recently in order to discover some new recipes I could try for me and Mom. Okay, fine. I planned to cook every single one of them. Like I said, cooking was my other interest, second only to books, and as it happened, politics. This is why I was interviewing for the internship in our local ambassador's office. That was when she came up to me.

"Hey there," the most bubbly blonde you could ever meet greeted me, her blue eyes earnest, friendly, and warm.

"Hi," I said, only slightly unnerved, because of the stark resemblance she seemed to bear to me, and because I wasn't used to strangers wanting to have anything to do with me that looked like wealthy, first-class citizens. I noticed that she seemed to be taken aback herself, but only for a moment. Then she recovered.

"I hate to be a pest, but I noticed the cook book you've been pouring over. I'm a bit of a cooking fanatic myself, and I was just wondering where you got this particular book? I've been making more Polish dishes as of late, and I'd love to see what kind of recipes are in this one."

"Oh, no problem," I acquiesced. "This book's got some great ones, and absolutely fattening, which means you know they're good," I added with a wicked grin. She grinned back. "I actually just bought it online, but if you wanted to write down the author and title, I think I have a slip of paper in my bag."

"That's perfect, and all I need, really. And by the way, the fattening recipes are absolutely the best. It's too bad we won't have our youthful metabolisms forever."

"Seriously. All of the best food is the stuff that you should cut back on," I lamented. I handed her a blank piece of paper and a pen, and she copied the book's information down in the neatest script I'd ever seen, including the ISBN, which caught my attention.

"You never know when that might come in handy," she said, raising her eyes at the ISBN.

"Let me guess," I ventured, "you're a book nerd too?" I smiled.

"I am!" she grinned again.

"Say no more. You must be my spirit animal," I laughed.

"Hah! I think all of us book lovers are connected by some weird spirit thing. Although the fact that you're into cooking too makes me like you even more!" She paused. "I'm Lucy, by the way. I'm on my way out, but we should hang out sometime. I have a hard time relating to most girls, especially the ones that are all about blush and eye shadow. I have a hard time relating to most girls. In fact, I never really have any friends to hang out with. It's mostly me and my three older sisters. It's a real drag sometimes. I'm nineteen, but I feel so sheltered."

"Sure, that would be great, actually. I do have one best friend, Anna, but she's the only girl I can relate to myself. I don't even have sisters, I kind of wish I did sometimes. Or a brother even."

"Ah, trust me, having siblings isn't all it's cracked up to be," she vented. "My sisters all have their own neurotic tendencies. They drive me crazy. I wish I were an only child. Or that I could have another sibling that maybe I related to, at least. Not that I don't love them," she added hurriedly.

"Well, having someone to relate to is important, for sure. So then, you live with your older sisters? Is that because you're all in college together or something?"

I should have noticed how quickly she panicked and then came up with an answer in that moment, but it didn't really hit me until I found out who I am later on.

"Oh, well, yeah, I'm going to college, and the next oldest is, and the two older are in grad school, but, ah, I mean we're not all just spoiled rich kids, ya know? Like, money is tight, and we all work, so it just cuts back on expenses. We just figured it's easier this way with the four of us. And at least if we have any roommate disagreements, they're also sisterly disagreements, so you'd expect us to fight. It's just easier. And the older ones, it's not that they just never grew up or became self-sufficient. They have obligations and things, and they're responsible and follow through on obligations they have."

"Oh, that's cool. I mean there's nothing wrong with living with your sisters at all. I was just curious as to what brought the four of you to living together if they drive you crazy," I laughed.

"Oh right." She smiled sheepishly, visibly relaxing. "Duh. Yeah, we'll just leave it at economic reasons."

"Got it."

"Anyway, here's my number," she said quickly, writing it in her perfect calligraphy again, and tearing off half of the paper I gave her for the cook book information. "I really would enjoy hanging out sometime."

"Likewise. Here's mine, too," I said, writing down mine on her half with the ISBN. "It was nice to meet you, Lucy."

"It was nice to meet you too…"

"Sorry! Kate."

"Kate." She smiled. As she was beginning to leave, she turned back to me. "Hey Kate?"

"Yeah?"

"I didn't mean to make it sound like I don't love my sisters. I do love them. And I can understand that you're lonelier being an only child. For all the ways that my sisters irritate me, we're a loyal bunch and do get along well most of the time."

"Oh, I figured. That's what all siblings will say about each other. We all just need a break and a good friend sometimes. Glad to be your break." I winked.

She smiled, nodded, and walked out of the coffee shop. I couldn't help but feel a twinge of excitement to have made a new friend. There was something almost sisterly about her, as odd as that felt. Perhaps it was because we had just talked about her three sisters, and I had none.