Chapter Two
"You'll call us when you get in to Heathrow?" my mom asked me for the fifth time that morning. We were waiting for my plane at Los Angeles International Airport. Surprisingly, I only had to put two suitcases in baggage. I used my backpack as my carry on. My collection of Cosmo magazines, the new Dan Brown novel, and a hundred hours of continuous music on my iPod would consume the ten hour trip.
"Do you have everything? Passport? Boarding Pass? Laptop? Umbrella? Underwear?" my mom was checking off a list.
"Mom! Shh, people can hear you!" I whispered desperately.
"Alright, alright. If you find that you're missing anything, just give us a call and we'll send it ASAP," she retaliated. I nodded just as my dad walked up to us.
"Well, they said you can start boarding in about five minutes," he informed us. My mother was still going over her list when an announcement came over the intercom, "We will now begin boarding Flight 987 to London at Gate K."
"Ok, that's me," I said with some hesitation in my voice. My mom was on the brink of tears while my dad comforted her.
"W-well, I'll- I mean, we'll m-miss you, s-sweetie," my mom sniffled. I hugged her and gave her a kiss on her tear-stained cheek. My dad pulled me into a tight hug and whispered in my ear, "Do your best hunny. I know you'll make us proud," then he said a little louder, "Love ya Riles. Be safe."
I kissed them both once more and gingerly made my way to the gate entrance. I gave the steward my plane ticket and with one last glance at my parents, walked through the gate and into the plane.
Once inside, a stewardess helped me find my seat in first class. My dad's company was paying for the plane ride and I was going to enjoy it for all it was worth. I settled myself at the window seat and placed my things on the chair next to me. The seat was quite comfy and judging by the television screens overhead, I could tell they were going to show a movie or two.
I took my Dan Brown book out and began to read. About fifteen minutes later, the captain came on the loudspeaker and gave the usual shpeal. Then a stewardess came around to help with take-off procedures. As the plane began to move slowly forward, I took one more glance at my home country. In the distance, I could make out the LA beaches in the sun drenched summer morning. I looked at the airport windows hoping to spot my parents waving, but I couldn't see into the tinted windows. I waved even though I couldn't see them.
"What are you waving at?" said a sarcastic voice behind me. I spun around to see a guy around my age with a ridiculous grin on his face. He had blond hair and green eyes. He wasn't exactly what I would call my type – he looked scrawny and pale, but boy! was he tall. "I said, what are you waving at?" he spoke with a British accent and looked somewhat familiar. The plane surged forward, forcing us into our seat backs.
Unable to fight the gravity pushing me into the seat, I continued facing forwards and answered him sheepishly, "I'm waving at my parents."
I heard him laugh a little while I was putting my headphones back on. I shook my head and continued to look out the window as the airport became smaller and smaller. About twenty minutes later, when the 'buckle your seatbelts' light went off, I unbuckled and pulled my feet up under me. While I was trying to get comfortable, I felt something bump me. I looked towards the aisle where it came from and saw the annoying guy – now seated next to me.
"Do you know who I am?" he asked. Geez, this guy was forward. I was starting to fear he'd be one of those annoying talker people who, no matter what you do, try to keep you in conversation the entire flight. Putting headphones on doesn't even stop these people. So I answered with the most sarcastic and annoyed voices I could summon, hoping he'd get the idea and leave me in peace.
"I don't suppose you're the Prince of England?"
"That's right. I didn't think yanks knew what the Prince of England looked like," he said in a matter of fact voice. I laughed it off knowing he was joking. I went back to reading my book until I heard a man behind my chair talking to the "Prince."
"Yes, but Your Highness, the Queen wants a word with you once you get back," the man said.
"I already told you Dash, I have a polo match at Eton."
"Shall I call Her Majesty and tell her of your delayed return?"
"Yes, that will be fine. Thank you, Dash."
I felt my face grow hot and I realized my arm was quite close to the Prince's. I quickly pulled it away and stuffed myself up against the window to give him space. I had no idea how to act around a member of the monarchy.
He looked over at me and began to laugh, "Now you believe me?"
"I-I'm s-sorry Sir- I mean, Your Majesty," the words tumbled out of my mouth haphazardly. He laughed again. It wasn't a ridiculing laugh, but a laugh at a good joke.
"I'm presuming you've never met an individual of nobility before, have you?" I shook my head and felt my face grow hotter. I covered it with my hands and tried to squish myself even further against the window.
"Am I making you uncomfortable? I can move," he sounded concerned. I looked past the prince to his assistant he called 'Dash'. He was shaking his head and I followed his lead.
Being the bold girl I am, I asked the Prince, "What am I supposed to do, or say for that matter?" At this, they both laughed.
"You may call me Will and we can talk like typical teenagers. You needn't suffocate yourself against that wall there," he said pointing out the fact that I wasn't leaving any space between the window and myself. "Now then, what is your name, Lady?"
"Lady?" I laughed causing a chain reaction to Will and his assistant, "My name's Riley."
"Riley. What an unusual name for a lady. A comrade of mine on my polo team is named Riley." And with that, we were talking eagerly and laughing heartily for the rest of the trip.
When we were getting off, Prince William asked me to come "observe" his polo match. I accepted since I couldn't go to Oxford yet. They allowed students in at the end of August. I was to stay in the Ritz in London until then, courtesy of my father's business.
